Stepbrother's Secret

He removes his suit jacket and loosens his tie, sauntering to the balcony door and staring out across the park while rolling up the sleeves of his white dress shirt. “I owe you an apology, too, Cate.” Brows drawn together, he looks back at me over his broad shoulder. “I should have been more careful about who I hired. Impeccable credentials don’t speak to a person’s character. I won’t make the same mistake again.”

“You don’t have to ’pologize.”

“Yes, I do. Your feelings being hurt is unacceptable.” He holds my gaze. “If anyone does it in the future, you’ll tell me immediately and I will handle it.”

This time he’s not even touching me and I feel tingly. Everywhere. In the tips of my breasts, my lips, my fingertips. “Okay,” I murmur. “I will.”

He turns, crosses his arms, looking so mighty and powerful, I have the urge to kneel. “How am I going to make it up to you?”

Kiss me.

I almost say it out loud, but manage to refrain. Maybe the tutor was right. Maybe I am trash, wanting my stepbrother to plant his big body on top of mine. To rut on top of me, the way I once saw Daddy do with Mama. The way the animals do in the marsh. “I, um…” I swallow, looking around for a distraction, and my attention snags on the remote control. “Could you maybe show me how to work the television?”

Tristan stares for a moment, a line bunched in his cheek, then nods. “Of course.”

Slowly, we approach the couch from opposite ends, meeting in the middle. His gaze trails down my neck, lingering on my breasts, his lips parting slightly on a rocky exhale. Is it because he likes my breasts? Or am I wearing the wrong thing and he disapproves? The whole time the tutor was here, she frowned at my chest, like it offended her. Does it offend Tristan?

Not knowing what else to do, I sit down on the couch.

And I spy that hard part of my stepbrother, protruding thickly from his lap, straining the zipper of his black suit pants. I know the male appendage is there for reproduction. Learned that much from the books I used to sneak from the town library, right before closing so no one would see me. But I didn’t know it remained stiff all the time. Tristan’s has been hard since the first time I met him in the glen, the rough bulk of it pressing up between my thighs. It’s taken everything inside of me not to rub against it, instinct compelling me to do so.

Now, my curiosity gets the best of me and I lift a hand, trailing my fingers down the stiff ridge and Tristan curses vilely, grabbing my wrist. “Jesus Christ, Cate. What do you think you’re doing?”

Heat prickles my cheeks. Lord, can I go five minutes without embarrassing myself or causing trouble? “I…I’m sorry. I jus’ wondered why…”

“Why what?” Tristan snaps, adjusting the bulge so it’s not as prominent.

Oh my, the sight of his hand there makes me feel sweaty and achy in odd places. And my voice sounds unnatural when I speak again. “You’re…it’s just that, i-it’s always hard.”

“It’s not always hard. It’s…” He shoves a hand through his hair and sits beside me on the couch, leaving only the barest inch between the outsides of our thighs. “It’s complicated, Cate.”

“It is?”

He closes his eyes for long moments, as if attempting to control his breathing. “How much do you know about men and women?” His throat bobs. “About sex?”

“Not too much. I know it’s how people make babies.” Talking about such intimate things with my stepbrother makes me feel shameful and excited all at once, my fingertips curling into the couch cushions. “And I accidentally walked in while my parents were, um…bein’ together once. So I know how b-bodies fit together.”

Tristan’s eyes trace up my thighs.

He wets his lips.

“A man gets hard when his body decides it wants to be inside of a certain woman,” he rasps, tearing his eyes from my lap with seeming effort. “Sometimes…a man’s body doesn’t have the ability to discriminate whether it’s right or wrong. Do you understand?”

“I think so,” I breathe, caught off guard by the warm pooling of moisture between my legs. The urge to squeeze my thighs together tightly. “Your body…likes mine? And it shouldn’t?”

“That’s it exactly.” Tristan swipes at the perspiration forming on his upper lip and I can’t help it, I can’t help but devour the sight of that huge ridge behind his fly. He’s just admitted it’s stiff like that because of me and again, shame and excitement clash like swords inside of me. “You have a very beautiful body, Cate. It’s so tender and ripe. And Jesus…” He shakes his head, curses. “I shouldn’t be saying these things to you.”