Save Me: a Stepbrother Romance (8 page)

I see you.  I know.

Still shell-shocked and a little out of my mind, I nuzzled my nose into his neck, inhaling the deep, masculine scent he had left on my pillow that night.  Callum froze.

“Natalie?”

We met eyes for the first time since he sat down.  His gaze lowered, fixing itself on my lower lip and the way it opened and quivered for him.  His tongue ran along his own lips as he watched me, and the pulse in his throat throbbed hard.  His fingers pressed into my skin, drinking in the feel of me underneath his strong grip. 

Something glowed behind his eyes, something hard and hungry and fiery.  It had started warm, but now it was burning.  It was something that made my stomach do little flips and my hands tremble.

Callum Gatlin wants me.

No.  Impossible.  Ridiculous.

But then why was he looking at me like that?

Why was his grip on me tightening?  And not in the threatening way that Nate’s did, but a new, strange one.  One that made my trembling hands want to run their fingers through his dark hair.

No!  He was my stepbrother.  

Like I said, impossible. 

The shock was tricking me.  I was out of my mind.  I was hungry for his warmth and concern and reading too much into it because I was desperate for someone.  I should be ashamed.

“I should go to sleep,” I said, closing my eyes and forcing the words out.  I hated to say them.  I didn’t want him to go.  But I had to get him out of here before I did something stupid.

“Are you sure?”

Cal’s voice was strained.  He didn’t want to leave either.  But I couldn’t think about it.  I couldn’t do anything I would regret later.  I shook my head, taking every last bit of will to force myself to give in to reason. 

I was weak right now, and I was fucked up.  I couldn’t let my weakness fuck up another person too.

“I’m sure,” I whispered.

The rest of the week was hell. 

Nate avoided me, disappearing at lunch and refusing to pick up his phone.  Jess stayed with me.  She explained that she have told me before had she known I was unaware about Nate cheating, and she dutifully handed me tissues under the bathroom stall door whenever I needed to cry alone. 

It killed me to find out about all the girls Nate had ploughed through, and it killed me even more to know that he was too much of a coward to admit it to my face.  But as the week went on and the initial shock wore off, I nursed a deeper wound:

The problem of Callum.

My cheeks burned with embarrassment every time I saw him, humiliated by my actions that night.  I couldn’t help but remember the way I had felt in his arms, the way I nuzzled his neck, the way his lip looked so bite-able.  Or that I had let him see me cry and even let him stroke my hair.  How could I be so stupid?  So hormonal?  So imperfect?  Callum Gatlin was beginning to captivate me.  He made my act break down, and that terrified me.  For the first time in forever, someone was opening me up, seeing me for what I really was. 

I hated it.

By the Friday of that week, I had mostly cleaned up.  Or at least I was sure I could go out wearing mascara and not cry it off.  But I still I needed a plan.  I couldn’t let Nate win like this.  I couldn’t let him have the satisfaction of seeing how badly I was taking this whole thing. 

And most of all, I needed to get out of the house, because being alone in a bedroom with Cal Gatlin and his strong arms and his delicious scent was the last thing I needed. 

I slapped on some lipstick and called Jess. 

“Do you need ice cream?” she said, answering the phone on the first ring.  “I can be over with some Ben and Jerry’s in, like, ten minutes.”

I smiled.  “No.  We’re going to the football game.”

I could sense her smiling back at me on the other side of the line.  “Thank God,” she mumbled.  “I thought you were dying.”

Close, but I wouldn’t give Nate that, either.  Sobbing pathetic Nat was gone.  Here comes vengeful bitch Nat.

“You know he’s going to be there, right?” she asked, as if she could read my mind.  Then again, we were best friends—she probably could.  “Nate, I mean.  Are you sure you want to go with him there?  I, uh, I heard he was going with Vanessa….”

Shit.  That stung.

“Good.  I want him to fucking see me.”  I pulled my t-shirt off and sifted through my closet.  This changed everything.  This wasn’t just some empowerment mission to make me feel like a functioning member of society—now I was angry.  “I’m wearing Maneater, then.”

Jess laughed.  “God, Maneater?  To a football game?”

“Desperate times call for desperate measures.”

“True.”  She snorted a laugh again, and I heard the jingle of her car keys.  “I’ll be over in ten.  Wear a push-up bra too, he’ll hate that.”

I ended the call and threw my phone on the bed.  The sky was turning golden with the sunset, which meant I had about thirty minutes to pull on something sexy and get down to the field before the game started.  My closet wasn’t cooperating, and I dug through it harder, searching for the blood red silk I needed.  I had almost forgotten I was half naked when I heard the creak of the door being pushed open.

I turned around, expecting to see Mom, but froze when I realized who it really was.

Callum.

“Sis, you got any—”

He froze in the doorway, and his eyes grew wide.  My mouth went dry when I saw his gaze lower, falling on my chest.  My breasts were just barely covered by the black lace of my bra, now rising and falling with my panicked breaths. 

The cold air of the room gave me goosebumps as it carressed my soft, exposed flesh—or was that Cal’s gaze I was feeling?  Mom hadn’t given me many of her curves, but what she did give me in the chest department was nice.  Callum apparently thought so too, because he opened his mouth as if to speak, but was speechless. 

He licked his lips, trying to find something to say.

“Cal,” I rasped.  “You should have knocked—”

“Shit, sorry!”  He shook his head, snapping out of it.  Crimson ran to his cheeks.  “Jesus, Nat, I’m sorry.   I should have—I should have, uh, knocked….” 

He wants you, the annoying voice in my head whispered.

Shut up, I snapped back.  Why was I so angry at the voice?  Was I worried it was true?

I crossed my arms over my chest and watched as Cal turned away, his neck blushing red.  He reached up and rubbed the back of his neck, obviously embarrassed as hell.  Cal Gatlin?  Being ashamed of something?  I couldn’t help but smile.  It was strange, feeling that comfortable with him that I could smile at something so awkward.  But it was real.  It felt safe.

“You want something?” I asked.  “Other than a peep show?”

Cal gawked.  I did too.  Did that really just come out of my mouth?  Bitch Nat was a bold woman.  I liked her.

“I—I don’t remember,” he stammered.  His eyes darted to the door, looking for an escape route.  I really was making him nervous.  My smile grew.  Adorable.

“I mean if you wanted to look at my boobs, you could have just asked.”

He rolled his eyes. 

“Look, do you have anything to say?” I asked.  I glanced at the setting sun outside my window.  “Because it’s getting late, and I have somewhere to be.”

“Where?”

“Football game.  I’m goddam full of school spirit.”

He snorted.  “You know that douche will be there, don’t you?”

“Jesus, does everybody in this town know what he’s up to besides me?” I snapped, throwing my hands up.  My breasts bounced, and Cal’s eyes glanced down again.  Then away, his cheeks even redder. I was absolutely devastating this boy. 

I wrapped my arms back over my chest again for his own protection.  “Anyway, yeah, I’m still going.  Deal with it.”

“You can’t,” Cal growled.  “Not while he’s there.”

“Don’t fucking tell me what to do.” 

That was the one thing I had decided I was done with: stupid ass teenage boys deciding they get to control my life.  Been there, done that, never doing it again.  Even if this teenage boy in question happened to be wearing those thin sweatpants that revealed a little too much and made my mouth water. 

“You sound like Nate,” I added for good measure.

Cal winced.  I hit him in a weak spot.  Good. 

“You know that’s not what I meant.  It’s not safe.”

“I like to live dangerously.”

He rolled his eyes again, this time even more exaggeratedly.  “If you’re still going, I’m coming with you.”

“Like hell you are.  The last thing I need is another fight.”

“You can’t go out alone with him there, Nat.  It’s dangerous.”

“I won’t be alone.  Jess is coming with me.”

“Because she was so great at helping you avoid his dickishness before.”

“Don’t talk about Jess that way.”

“Sorry.”  He frowned.  “But it doesn’t change things.  I’m coming, whether you like it or not.”

I groaned.  God, he was persistent.  And I could tell I wasn’t about to win this one.  As distracted as he was by my still exposed breasts, Cal could be a stubborn ass when he wanted to be.  And with the sun setting so fast outside my window, I had no time to waste in trying in to convince him.

“Jesus.  Fine.”  I turned back to my closet and resumed digging.  “Make sure you wear something decent, otherwise Furst will follow us all night.”

“Yes, ma’am.”  The way he said ma’am made my heart flutter.  “Do you need to hire me a babysitter, too?”

“Oh, fuck off.”

He chuckled, and the dark, sweet sound did something to me deep inside.  I squashed the feeling down, desperately trying to ignore it and focus on the search for Maneater as his footsteps padded out the door.  They paused.

“And Nat?” his voice called.

“What?”

Cal leaned in the room again, this time all traces of shame gone from his face.  He was back to being Cal Gatlin, the asshole, though maybe not as bad of an asshole as I had taken him to be.  His gaze slithered down my body one more time, this time slow and sensually.  A shiver trembled through my spine.

His gaze reached my eyes again, and there was that look in his face, the hungry one.  Like he wanted to grab me, drag me to his bedroom by the hair, and just ravage me. 

His cocky smirk played across his face.