Stepbrother's Secret

So low I can barely hear her, she mumbles, “She was mean.”

My stride hitches, anger rearing its head inside of me, sharp and ugly. “She was mean to you? How?”

Cate starts to tell me something, but changes her mind and looks down at her bare toes. “Never mind. I’ll go back and pay good attention.”

“No.” I tip her chin up and herd her closer to my body, knowing damn well I’m playing a dangerous game. We’re blocked from view by the SUV now and my driver is discreet as they come, but anyone could walk past, not to mention her apartment building looms across the street, hundreds of windows facing our direction. “If she was unkind to you, sweetheart, I want to know about it.”

My stepsister shakes her head, mouth in a stubborn line.

“Cate.”

After a moment, she sighs. “She told me I had to get rid of my accent fast. Because I sound like gutter trash.”

Red blooms behind my eyes, my temples pounding.

How dare anyone insult this guileless girl?

How could anyone live with themselves after treading on her spirit?

I hear footsteps behind me on the curb and turn to find the tutor coming in our direction. “There you are.” She laughs nervously and hands Cate a pair of sandals, which my stepsister puts on quickly. And I definitely don’t miss the way the tutor’s eyes harden when she looks at Cate. “After you jumped out of the tree, I couldn’t find you. Shall we resume your lessons now?”

“No. She won’t be resuming anything. Not with you.” I turn my body, so I’m blocking Cate from view. “You’re dismissed. Permanently. But you’re going to apologize to my stepsister first or you can count on me to be your worst reference. I doubt a bad review will be taken lightly coming from the governor.”

Justine’s pinched mouth drops open. “I didn’t…I was only trying to impress on her the importance of—”

“Still waiting on that apology.” I tug Cate up against my side. “Direct it at her, please. Not me. And you better hope she accepts it.”

The tutor bows at the waist, sputtering. “I’m so sorry, Cate. I was terribly out of line.”

“Keep going,” I say coldly.

“No, Tristan,” Cate whispers softly, pulling on my sleeve. “Please, no more. I accept.”

“Lucky for her.” Not wanting Cate reminded of the woman’s insult for another second, I take her soft arm and guide her across the street, back toward her building.

“Are you comin’ up with me?” Cate asks, hopefully, jogging to keep up with my stride.

I slow down to match her pace. “I have to work, sweetheart. I’ve already postponed…”

Her crestfallen expression has me trailing off in the middle of what was saying. Jesus. Disappointing this girl is like a knife carving up my guts. But being alone with her is self-destructive. I’m hard. So fucking hard. Jealous over the male attention she courted in the park. All I want to do is rip that dress off her fresh, supple body and bury my cock between her thighs. Turn off my phone, forget my responsibilities and spend a week riding her in every position. I’d die to ignore the fact that she’s my much younger stepsister. Career suicide in the flesh.

But I can’t do that.

I can’t.

Still, she blinks up at me and the world around us becomes an afterthought.

There’s only her. This sweet firefly fairy from the glen.

“I can come up for a little while,” I say, my voice like gravel.

4

Cate

Trying not to stare at Tristan as he makes himself comfortable in my apartment is an impossible challenge. He’s so gloriously vibrant and strong and heroic. How quickly he’s become the man who saves me. Pulling me down into his arms from the tire swing. Rescuing me from that mean woman who seemed to loathe me on site. And he touches me.

Remembering the sensation of his solid arms holding me close, I clamp my lips together so I won’t moan out loud.

I haven’t been touched much in my life at all. Before my parents started fighting all the time and Mama left, she used to give me hugs. Back when I was in school, others students used to brush up against me in the hallway, but until Tristan hugged me in the glen, I didn’t realize how much I’ve been craving skin to skin contact.

Although I don’t have a lot of experience being touched, I know there is a difference in the way Mama hugs me and the way Tristan does it. There’s also a vast difference in the way my stepbrother’s touch makes me feel. Ticklish and tingly between my legs. Breathless. Like my heart could up and race right out of my body. I don’t know if that’s the right or wrong way to feel when my stepbrother holds me, but I don’t think it’s something that can be controlled.