Blended Hearts #2 (An Interracial Stepbrother Romance Book)

BLENDED
HEARTS #2

By
Alycia Taylor

Copyright
2015. All rights reserved.

 
 

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CHAPTER 1

When I opened my eyes to
reality – the reality of what Daniel and I had been doing, I couldn’t believe
what happened. It totally freaked me out. How could I let this happen?
What an idiot you are, Madison!

I sat up, turned to
Daniel and shook his shoulder.

“Hey? How could you?
You’re just like every other guy – got to get into every girl’s pants. Is that
what we were doing?”

Bewildered, Daniel looked
up at me. He was still on his back catching his breath.

“What are you on about,
Madison?” he blurted. “What did I do that you didn’t want me to do? Why didn’t
you stop me if you didn’t want to? You enjoyed it as much as I did…”

“Get out of here, you
bastard! You know this is all wrong. We’re brother and sister, for heaven’s
sake.”

“Exactly – but the law
does not dictate how we feel, does it? Besides, as you said, we aren’t really related.”
He got up and slipped into his shorts.

“It’s still wrong,
Daniel.” I got up to put my night shirt on again. “You can’t tell anyone about
this. Do you understand me?”

“Oh I understand you
alright: You’re a real piece of work, you know that? But don’t worry about it –
mum’s the word. Why would I brag about it? We’ve just had the best time, but
I’m no kiss-and-tell. So you don’t have to get your old knickers in a knot,
dearie.” He wrapped his arms around my waist. I pushed him away. He grabbed my
wrists and pulled me back to him.

“Why are you acting all
crazy like that?” he asked me softly. “There’s absolutely nothing wrong with
what we did. There’s not a reason in the whole wide world why two strangers
shouldn’t have sex together, is there?”

“That’s just it, Daniel,
we are not “strangers”, we’re related…”

“No, we’re not, Madison!
That’s the point. You are not my father’s daughter. And I’m not your mother’s
son.” He released me.

I stared.

“Get out of my room! And
don’t you come back. Understand?”

I was unable to get a
hold of my feelings. I could not make sense of what just occurred. Not only did
I let him make out with me, but we had sex.
SEX!
On my bed!
My next thought was even more frightful.
What if someone heard us? What if someone saw us?
I knew Richard
and Mom were out for the evening, but I couldn’t be sure…I was literally going
crazy with worry.

I was totally convinced
that someone was going to find out what we’d done. We were going to get caught.
In the midst of these tergiversations, my nose told me that I needed to get rid
of the smell that permeated my room now. It smelled like sex. I got a clean
night shirt out of the chest of drawers and practically ran to the bathroom.

Still thinking that my
mother – or worse Richard – would find out what we did just by smelling me, I
scrubbed myself so hard that if I hadn’t watched it I would have been as red as
a lobster when I came out of the shower.
 
I sprayed myself with deodorant everywhere I could think of and donned
the clean night shirt.

Next, I went back to my
room to check if there was anything new or “revealing” on my social media pages.
I checked my phone and wondered if Daniel would keep his word and shut his mouth
about what we had done. Of course, I found nothing remotely relevant.

Lying on my bed, I relived
those intensely lovely moments with Daniel. It was as if I had made love in a
dream – in another place, at another time – I couldn’t come to terms with the
reality of it all. Daniel took my virginity away, and I let him do it.
Correction: I wanted him to do it. I wouldn’t have been satisfied with anything
less than having sex with him. I had to face the truth. Avoiding him was a must
now. I had to make a decision: I would never do this again with Daniel. He was
totally off limits, as far as I was concerned.

 

I was trying to make
plans to best avoid Daniel when I heard the garage door open. I practically
jumped out of my bed. At first, I thought of staying where I was – as usual –
but if I didn’t find out if they knew anything about Daniel and me, I wouldn’t
be able to sleep. I ran down the stairs and caught them as Richard was pouring
a night cap for Mom.

“Hey there,” I said,
whisking my way into the living room. “How was the show? Did you have a good
time?”

Mom was staring at me –
mute. Then she said, “Madison. Are you okay?” She looked genuinely surprised to
see me. “What are you doing up at this hour?”

I went to sit on the edge
of one of the living room chairs across from her.

“Just heard you come in
and I thought I’d come down to see if you enjoyed the evening.”

“Yes, it was fun
actually. I had never been to a cultural show before, and I tell you, it was
very interesting. They had these dancers…” She frowned. “But why are you
asking? Did something happen while we were out?”

I shook my head, a little
too vigorously maybe. “No-no, it’s not that. I mean nothing happened. I was
just curious, that’s all. You two”—I looked up at Richard—“talked about this
for so long, I thought I would ask how it went.”

“It was very
interesting,” Richard said, handing a glass to Mom, “as your mother said. And
perhaps we should book some seats for all of us when the Indian drummers are in
town; I hear they’re excellent.”

I had no intention of
sitting and listening to drums for two hours, but I had to smile – just to
pretend and go along with my own cover-up.
Boy
this is awkward, and silly!
I thought.

“Okay then,” I said,
getting up from the chair where I had been sitting since I came downstairs, “I
guess I’ll go to bed now.” I smiled insanely. “Good night then,” I added,
trotting up the stairs but stopping on the landing. I was still paranoid.
Let’s hear what they have to say….

“Well, wasn’t that a
little bit of a surprise?” Richard said to Mom.

“I wonder what’s gotten
into her. The three of us haven’t had a real conversation for weeks – since the
wedding actually – and all of a sudden, here she comes all interested in what
we’re doing.”

“Exactly my thoughts,
sweetie,” Richard answered. “She reminds me of a frightened animal – I don’t
mean she’s an animal, but you know what I mean.”

“Yes, I know precisely
what you mean. She jumps out of her skin at a mere touch or if you look at her
the wrong way, she goes and hides. I’ve never seen her act that way.”

“Do you think you should
have a chat with her?” Richard asked.

“I could try, but I don’t
want to pry. If something is really bothering her, I’m still hoping she’ll come
to me.”

Fat
chance, Mom,
I told myself.
There’s no way I would pronounce even a syllable about Daniel and me.

Yet one thing was clear,
the only reason they would begin suspecting that something might be wrong would
be because of my strange behavior. As my mom said, all of a sudden I wanted to
have a conversation when the three of us hadn’t exchanged five words between us
in weeks now. Granted we had been out for that one bowling afternoon, and we
had a bit of a chat at the dinner table on occasion. I had to admit, my frayed
nerves were starting to show and I was the one planting a seed of doubt in my
mother’s mind. As for Richard, I had to wonder if he was going to question
Daniel about me. I just had to hope Daniel would keep his word and say nothing.
But this was different. It would be father and son talking. Maybe Daniel would
let the cat out of the bag, thinking that talking to his dad wouldn’t be the
same as talking to Gill or any of his friends.

I had to get to bed. This
wasn’t helping anyone, least of whom me.
 

I got up from my hiding
place and tiptoed my way back to my room. I closed the door silently and went
back to have a look at who was on line. Maybe Gaby wasn’t asleep yet. I looked
at the clock on the screen – 2:00 a.m.

Come
on, girl, get yourself to bed, otherwise tomorrow you’ll be totally wasted.

 

CHAPTER
2

Monday mornings were
always a drag. There were three successive periods of subjects that really
rattled my chain. First, math with the fat jerk, Mr. Collins; I truly couldn’t
stand the guy. He was the most freaky when it came to having all these sorts of
phobias. I heard that he would never eat at a restaurant table unless the
servers would change table cloths, napkins, glasses and cutlery in front of
him. As for knowing his subject, I must admit he was
extreme!
The guy knew his stuff. Perhaps that was the only reason
why my grades in math weren’t as bad as one would have expected. I mean I
wasn’t all A’s – far from it – or anything close to them, but I wasn’t bad.

The next period I would
have to sit tight – political history was the subject. Not one of my favorites
either. Why should I have to sit tight, you ask? The woman was a
bitch
. She loved women. Nothing wrong
with that, but let’s leave our sexual preferences outside of the school walls,
shall we? Thank you. But again, the woman knew what she was teaching. And
frankly, I didn’t mind her that much. It was an interesting subject.

As for the third period;
God, I wish I could have hidden under my desk and stay there for the entire
period. Physics! Me and physics, we were definitely not getting along. The class
was truly not my cup of tea; which is a remark most apropos when it came to Mr.
Albertson. An English gentleman himself, he would bring his bone-china cup and
saucer to the class, and sip on his tea while expounding on the parabolic
effect of gravity’s pull on objects projected at a speed of 125 miles per hour,
such as a tennis ball across the net at Wimbledon!
Really? Who bloody cares? I sure don’t.

You probably heard it in
my voice by now, but I was totally unnerved that morning. I took an early bus
to avoid Daniel and was in the cafeteria, sipping on my orange juice when Gaby
came to sit across from me.

“So, how was the
weekend?” she asked, dropping her books on the table with a thud.

I looked up at her. “What
weekend?” I shrugged. “If studying and getting my room in some sort of order or
washing my clothes represents anything close to a fun weekend, than I had loads
of fun. It was hilarious!”

“Aren’t we snippy this
morning?” Gaby said. “What happened to put you in such a fantastic mood?” She
took a muffin out of its plastic wrapper and opened a little tub of yogurt. I
had to admire her. She was sticking to her diet. And I had to say, she started
slimming down a bit.

I shook my head. “Nothing
really. I’m just allergic to Mondays, that’s all.”

“You mean you’re allergic
to math, physics and political history, right?”

“Right. I am in no mood
of even trying to understand the “parabolic effect of gravity pull…
yackity
-yack” or “the value of x when y is 10 and z is 2.”
And as far as Ms.
Ludson
– that’s another matter altogether.”

“Wow! Can I ask you what
you had for dinner last night? You sound like a dog whose bone has been stolen.
Seriously. What happened?”

“And I told you
nothing happened
, okay?” I shouldn’t
have said that, certainly not in that tone of voice. I was turning into a real
obnoxious idiot.

Gaby closed her tub of yogurt,
wrapped her muffin, put both back in her bag, grabbed her books and tablet and
left me alone with my miserable mood. I wanted to cry and feel sorry for
myself, but what would that accomplish? Nothing. I was the one who let Daniel
go “for the works”, didn’t I? If someone was to blame, it was me. I was an
adult. I only had to say: “get out of my room” before it all happened, didn’t
I? And now I was behaving like the proverbial bear with a sore head.

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