Crude: A Stepbrother Romance (21 page)

“I think I’d like you to be my first, you know,” She mumbles again, making me grin and once again try and ignore how hard I am and how entirely naked she is.

Talk about about temptation.

“Me too, princess,” I murmur, pulling the sheet up over her body; “Me too.”
 

I start to slide off the bed when I feel her hand on my arm; “Stay with me?”

I pause for only a second before I nod and lay back in her bed “OK.”

She curls up against me, her eyes closed and her breathing rhythmic as she lets her head down on my chest.

“Sleep tight, princess.”

I wake to the sound of a lawn mower outside, and I’m cringing at the light piercing through my closed eyes. I wince as I shift, feeling a lance of white pain shoot through my head and dull queasiness in my stomach.
 

So, this is a hangover
.

On a night of firsts like last night, apparently this is one more for the checklist.
 

The lawnmower growls past my bedroom window and fades away again as it moved back around the side of the house, and I groan and start to turn over in my bed when I suddenly freeze.

Oh holy shit
,
why is Knox in my bed?

That particular part of the night starts rushing back at me in faded, cringe-worthy segments, like the most embarrassing highlights reel of the worst movie ever.
 

But suddenly what’s worse is the parts that
don’t
come back to me; like, for instance, why he’s in my bed.

And then suddenly with a horrible feeling, I realize something else-

I realize I’m
naked
.

Oh God, oh please God tell me I didn’t do what I think I did. Please tell me I didn’t lose-

I squeeze my eyes shut against the sudden wave of nausea rolling over me before I force myself to haltingly pull back the sheets and glance beneath them.
 

He’s wearing pants, thank
God
.

I also feel like I’d be, well, sore, if that’d happened last night. At least, that’s what always happens in movies or books when someone has sex for the first time.

I cringe again, frozen there in bed while Knox sleeps next to me.
God
, I almost lost my virginity last night, while completely drunk, to
him
.

To my
stepbrother
.

And then the rest of the night starts to trickle back as well; the humiliating way I put the most pathetic moves in the world on Josh -
gay
Josh, the pictures Knox was texting me at dinner, and- I frown suddenly; the story about Knox and that
woman
. The married woman and the
mother
of that poor kid Josh knew.

Ugh
.

The nauseous feeling comes crushing back over me at the mere thought of him and someone else like that, especially someone like
that
.

As if on cue, he stirs next to me, grumbling as he slowly wakes and opens his eyes. I watch him have the same sudden shock I had at finding a person next to him, but he obviously takes it in better stride than I did.

Thank God I was the only one black-out drunk.

“Well, well,” He turns, grinning at me; “The life of the party awakens.”

“Get out.” I’m scowling at him, clutching the sheets to my naked body and narrowing my eyes at him.

Knox frowns; “Excuse me?”

“I said get out of my room, Knox,” I hiss.

“Jesus, Paige-” He rolls his eyes and sits up; “Look we didn’t do anything if that’s what you’re implying.” He smirks; “You took your own clothes off, just for the record.”

I can feel my face burning at the hazy memory of...oh
God
. I cringe as more of the blanks start to fill themselves in, and I turn away from him; “Please just go.”

“Paige, look, it’s
fine
. You were drunk, it happ-”

“
Go
, Knox; please.”

His eyes narrow at me for a second before he shakes his head; “Fine.”

I’m storming around my room, shoving things off my bed and poking around through pants pockets looking for my cigarettes before I remember I smoked the last of them last night waiting for
her
to get home.

Waste of some perfectly good cigarettes if you ask me.

I’m tempted to go jump on my bike and grab some more, but I’m also smart enough to know when I’m too angry and too out of my own head to drive it.

Fuck it, I should quit anyways.

Instead, I slump back on my bed, glaring up at the ceiling as I hear Paige come into the bathroom and start the shower. Before, I’d be coming up with sneaky and yet charming ways of getting myself in there with her. I’d be coming up with a funny and yet sexually loaded line to drop on her as I snuck my way under the spray of that shower with her.

Except now, no matter how close things got to getting
really
intense last night, I want no part of that. I was a fucking idiot to latch on to her like this, and it’s what I’ve been saying to myself all along, which is even more annoying. Why the hell was I following her around like a damn puppy-dog anyways? What, ‘cause some of my usual hookups are out of town?

Fuck that.

The shower is running, but instead of picturing her naked under the water, I’m still just glowering about the events of the previous night. I mean where the
fuck
does she get off judging me like that? Where does she get off getting
mad
at me for something that happened before I even knew her. And fuck that anyways! I’m not her fucking boyfriend.

Plus, she doesn’t even know the whole story. No one does because no one ever
asks
. At best, it’s jokes or a high-five when people hear about Cynthia. No one’s interested in
my
side of things; no one’s interested in how it felt to be
used
like that by a woman like that who
knew
I was way too young to be part of that.

The shower shuts off, and now I can’t
help
but think of her naked, nude and wet as she steps out of the shower and reaches for a towel to wrap around her soft, supple body.

Jesus, I need to get away from this.

The west wing of the house that’s been under construction since mom and I moved in isn’t
technically
ready until next week, but fuck that; I’m going to play pioneer. A little sheet-rock dust never hurt anyone anyways.

I immediately start grabbing up some pillows, a blanket, my laptop, and my bike helmet before storming down the hallway. The doorway leading into that side of the house still has plastic wrap over it, but I rip it aside as I make my way into the white-walled, newly finished rooms.
 

“Mr. Shepherd?” I turn to see one of the rotating cast of maids I keep seeing around the house peering at me curiously from back in the hallway. I immediately feel like a douchebag seeing as she clearly knows my name and I don’t know hers.

“Mr. Shepherd, your room in the west wing isn’t ready yet.”

“I know, it’s cool.”

She frowns; “But it’s still under const-”

“Yeah I’m really into carpentry. Just wanted to be around the work more.”

She gives me a strange look before nodding; “Well, OK, we’ll start moving your things right away.”

I roll my eyes; “No- I’m sorry, I don’t know your name.”

“Elsa.”

“Elsa, I’ve got it.”

“It’s ok, we can-”

“Look, it’s fine, I can move my own things.”

She smiles; “It’s my job, Mr. Shepherd.”

Jesus, King Joe and his fucking slaves, or whatever.
 

“Fine, whatever,” I growl, shaking my head and stomping towards my new room.

There’s no furniture in here yet, so I just dump my bedding and pillows in a corner. I’ll drag my bed or a couch in here later.

I’m slumped in the corner in my shitty excuse for a bed later when Elsa and two men I don’t know if I’ve seen before start coming in with boxes and bins of my things from the old room.

Jesus, Paige and I...we’re seriously from different fucking worlds. I mean, this girl is
going
places. She’s going to run a company or some shit, and play Lincoln Center on the side most likely.
 

Me? I glower and stare out the window as one of Elsa’s helpers brings in the last box of my clothes and nods before leaving. I let my head hang. Me? I’m gonna be pumping gas is what I’m going to be doing if I don’t get my shit together.

And suddenly, this whole shitty morning with Paige is
fine
, because it all makes sense finally. I’ve been kidding myself and living in a fantasy escape messing around with a girl like that
 

And it’s time to start facing the reality.