Stepbrother Tormentor 1 of 2: A Steamy Romance (2 page)

Apparently Dad is a good for nothing bum, who Mom wasn't shy to put by the side by the road when I was barely a year old. It was just me and her until she met Dan, building her business and income. Afraid he'd be archetypical horrible stepfather, mean and demanding, I really felt relieved when he turned out to be the kindest guy ever. Funny too, when he wants to be. And just as impossibly handsome as
him
. It’s a shame his only son had to inherit the looks but not the kind nature.

"Sweetheart," Mom said, her hands on my shoulders and warmth in her eyes that made me feel guilty. If only she knew the true reason why I've been avoiding him and am trying to get away from a full day in his presence. "I know things haven't been easy around here lately. With your stepbrother suddenly appearing, and all."

And him being a complete ass
, I thought but didn't say. Neither did she, but we both knew she was thinking it too. If only she knew how bad things really were. Two months in and I was already dreading going home after class. What was once a sanctuary had become my own personal trial grounds. The Hunger Games would be a walk in the park; at least they die and have it over with.

"But you barely know each other," Mom said, smiling in a way I know is meant to be encouraging. It does nothing to make me feel any better, though. "You have to give each other a chance to become friends," she added, almost imploringly.

"As if I want to." Avoiding eye contact, hoping that the coloring of my face would be interpreted as a sign of frustration, not an indicator of the raw lust that always peaks when he's on my mind—more times than I care to admit. Ready to act out the part of obstinate teen, one look at Mom's unhappy face was enough to convince me not to. "I'll try," I said, my heart sinking fast at what I already knew was going to be one miserable day.

"You have no idea how happy that makes me, sweetie."

"A weekend with my dear stepbrother from hell. Great," I said, rolling my eyes and sighing theatrically.Mom broke out laughing and I couldn't help but join in. But it was a short lived laugh when she pulled me close for one of her killer-hugs, dread already building at the prospect of a weekend with him.

"I'm certain that once you two get to know each other better, you'll be happy to have each other around," Mom said when she released me. "He is family too, Cassandra."

Yeah, as if I needed reminding. I'd be a lot happier if he was just that unattainable guy at school. The one you can safely admire from afar. The one who you know is bad news and who you just know will break your heart if you let him near, but instead I have to face him on a daily basis and feign indifference, day after cursed day. Not that he is around much.

Popular since day one, he had no trouble hooking up with the
cool kids
. The ones who have parties in the forest and the fake IDs they need to buy booze—one of the hallmarks of their coolness. Not that he needs it to intimidate and be cool. But that's been his life since he arrived. Arriving home in the middle of the night, not shy to wake me from a restless sleep that, to my shame, is plagued by him. Naked. Hot. Hard muscles pressed against my aching body. The sheets wet from more than just sweat.

No doubt the only thing Mom sees these days is an unhappy teenage daughter who just can't get along with her asshole stepbrother, not the lovestruck mess that I've become. Let's hope I can keep it that way. If she were to ever find out the real cause for my sadness, she’d think her daughter is a freak.

Three days later and I'm looking up and into
his
face, after wading to the riverbank like a wet puppy, his eternal smirk firmly in place. Ignoring his outstretched hand, I  crawl out of the water on all fours while telling myself no one will remember this moment in a year or so. Of course, I just
have
to lose my balance when I stand up straight, only to fall right back in with a huge splash and a scream.

Judging from the laughter, I'm a great entertainer these days. Even Mom and Dan look away, trying to hide their amused grins behind hands that fast go up to their faces. And my cousins are doubled over. I almost hope all that laughter hurts.

When Dan comes over, offering his hand, I know better than to challenge fate. One more involuntary dive and drowning would probably be a relief. So I take it and smile, like you do when you have a toothache, when he offers me words of consolation. "Slippery here, eh?" he says. "Almost happened to me too," he lies. It didn't. He landed just fine. So did all the others, except Anthony, who protested loudly when he was told he was too young, the promise of an extra large ice-cream bribing him into acceptance. Even Mom did great. Screaming as she soared over the water. But hey, I'll take the excuse with both hands.  

"That was awesome," says Tom, my eleven-year-old cousin with a thick mop of red hair and freckles that are testimony to his Scottish heritage, between fits of laughter.

"Again," his brother, Anthony, demands. He is seven and I know my clumsiness has just made his day.

"Maybe later," I say, trying not to sound bitter and blinking fast to hold the tears back.

"Now, leave Cassandra alone, boys," my aunt says, hurrying over to drag them away to a safe distance. Probably to prevent them from pushing me right back in. Although, judging from her amused look, I bet she wouldn't object if I repeated that blunder. Ha ha ha. Let's hear it for funny me.  

So where did things go wrong? With
him
, of course. It's
always
him. Up to now, things were actually going much better than expected, and I’d even had a bit of fun playing with my cousins, pleased that Mr. Asshole had decided to keep his distance. That was good, I told myself. Disappointing too. But only to the girl with the big secret that no one must ever know about. The one that can never be.

Mom cajoled me into riding with him in his new pickup truck. Grateful that he didn’t try and talk to me, I just sat out my time in silence, taking sneak peeks and admiring the way his shirt sleeves were stretched tight around his muscles and his three-day stubble. By the time we arrived I was glad that I wasn't leaving a wet spot on the seat. Eager to get away from Mr. Cool, and his shades and the messy hair—all a reminder that unlike him, I actually do have to pay attention to my looks.

Unlike him, my hair is all frizzy and my breasts need augmentation. Sitting next to him in my favorite summer dress, yellow with horizontal stripes, only served to make me feel that much more depressingly common. A painful reminder that even if he was just a guy, not my stepbrother, girls like me don't date guys like him. Not on this planet.

Keeping to himself, his answers were short whenever someone tried to engage him in small talk, his eyes hidden behind his shades. The kind of short that made it clear he wasn't interested in talking. The kind of short that tells you you’re dealing with a Grade A
jerk
who never had to try a day in his life to get along. With his looks, he must be used to everyone wanting to be his best friends anyway. Not that I was complaining, Silence serves me just fine. Better than making a fool of myself by saying something stupid.

Even the weather was co-operating to boost my mood. Sunny with a refreshing breeze. A perfect day, if he hadn't been there. And my cousins never fail at cheering me up with their jokes and endless laughter.

But whatever confidence I had that I would make it through the day unscathed was blown to pieces when it was time for fun and games. Mom's idea, of course. Swing across the river by a damn rope. Folks love it, apparently. Enough to pay for it. Granted, it's not much of a river, but that only makes it worse, not better. It’s maybe eighteen feet wide and, with a little help and encouragement from my uncle, even Tom made it across. Easily.

"Mom," I said, eyeing the rope and the platform from which we were supposed to make the jump, unease creeping up on me, "I don't think—" Before I could finish she had thrown an arm around me, pulling me close and gushing how much I'd love it. Right.

Allowing Dan to pull me out of the water, my dress clings to me like a second skin, and I want to kick myself for not insisting sitting this one out. I just
knew
I'd screw up, and all thanks to
him
. Stephan. My stepbrother and tormentor.

"We need some comic relief too, sweetheart," Dan says, giving me a playful wink. All, no doubt, meant to encourage me to drop the sour face and laugh along. But I can't. Not when I feel months of frustration and suppressed anger rising to the surface. Just the thought of fake-laughing over yet another humiliating screw up makes me want to scream and stamp my feet.

"Don't I know it," I say sourly just when my right feet starts to slip and slide over the slippery grass. Thank God Dan has me, but the cousins are in stitches again. Half-laughing herself, my aunt tells the boys to have some mercy, only making it worse.

After Mom decided to play survivalist, I could hardly refuse, could I? I'd be the spoil sport. The one to ruin the party. Mom and Dan would have be cool with it, but the rest of the family would know me for the boring girl I guess I am, wouldn't they? So, with false bravado, I joined in, insisting on going last, as if waiting for a miracle that would save me from what I felt was certain disaster. 

He
, of course, had no trouble. Casually, as if he'd done it a million times before, he just grabbed the rope. And like Tarzan reincarnate, jumped back and, with feet forward, arced smoothly over the water. My eyes on his broad back, I knew I should have looked away when I felt my knees go weak.

Landing with the grace of an Olympic athlete, he casually let go of the rope and set up camp in the shade of a tree while I was dealing with the heat that exploded between my legs. That's how I stood there, baking in the sun and my own horniness, until it was my turn, with all eyes on me, the back of my summer dress as soaked as my panties.

"You'll see, it's easy," Dan shouted from across the river.

Unable to resist, my eyes turned to
him
. Standing there like he was the main character in a Hollywood movie, leaning against a tree. Cool. Collected. Not even as much as a smile breaking through. The cool guy, putting up with lesser mortals. Us. Me in particular. His cool demeanor felt like a personal attack on me. Even the smoldering heat didn't seem to bother him, and the sweat spots on his shirt reminded me of his musky smell.

Tearing my eyes away, nervous, I looked down and shut my eyes.
Just breathe
, I told myself.
Just breathe
.
You got this
.
Girl power and all that. Screw him, and his shades, and muscles, and sexy as fuck voice. Just pretend he isn't there!
When I opened my eyes, the first thing I noticed was his absence. Miracle of miracles! It felt like the first good thing that had happened that day. Not wanting to think about where he had gone, I grabbed the rope with renewed confidence, certain that as long as he was out of sight, I'd make it.

"You can do this, honey," Mom yelled.

"Swing your legs forward," Dan encouraged. You'd say he was coaching junior league, hunched forward as if physically trying to propel me into action from across the river. 

"If I can do it, anyone can," Aunt Diane yelled. Thank God Uncle Peter kept his mouth shut.

Not the cousins, though. "Go! Go! Go! Go!" they chanted, the naughty gleam in their eyes betraying what they really wanted: for one of us to screw up and hit the water. Preferably their favorite cousin. Smiling, believing this might just work out after all, I jumped back and pulled myself up as I stuck my legs out, already feeling victorious when I started my forward swing through the air.

Then he had to ruin it by stepping away from behind the tree where he'd retreated. Bare-fucking-chested. I swear the universe stopped dead in its tracks just as the grey part of my brain flatlined. And just like that, he stole my chance at making it safely across. Gone was the sense of impending victory. My brain focused only on the muscles and tattoos, and the perfect smile that he threw in my direction, standing in stark contrast to the eternal smirk that I had gotten used to, his thumbs casually hooked in his pockets.

I’d never believed in the instant chemistry that his presence taught me is so very damn real, and I’d never put much faith in
feeling like fainting,
either. Not until that moment. My heart jackhammered and heat exploded in my belly; my muscles went slack right when I was in midair. Feeling the rope slip from between my fingers just as I was at the highest point of the arc, only on a rudimentary level of reality registered: I wasn't going to make it. Not even by a close shot.

Next thing I knew, I hit the cold water. Another humiliation for the silly and clumsy girl with the secret crush.

Dan gave me a concerned look; I guess in my wet dress and with my chagrined look, he feels sorry for me. Good. I deserve it. I feel sorry for myself too. "I'm fine," I lie. Forcing out a smile hurts and my body is still in emergency mode, my mind telling me I need to get away from
him
. Did he do that on purpose? Wait until it was my turn to take his shirt off? Does he suspect? Or is he so used to girls drooling all over him that it is just a game? Humiliate the stepsister for kicks and giggles.

"Are you certain?" Dan asks. Mom tells me she has spare clothes in the car. I don't know what is worse: that she knew her girl probably wouldn't make it, or that I'm still in a state of shameful excitement over the sight of that muscular bare chest.