Who drove the midlife-crisis-mobile?
I edged out of the car, and my heels clicked against the walkway. The front door abruptly opened.
A little blonde bunny slipped outside. She squeezed Zach’s hand goodbye.
Oh. He had to be kidding me.
I crossed my arms and let my arched eyebrow do the talking. Blondie got the hint. She fluttered her hair over her shoulder and batted her eyelashes at Zach. Her baby-blues stared at him with some intelligence, but she was still screwing around with a guy in a house that didn’t belong to either of them.
He was such an asshole. My shoes were too good to kick his ass out.
First a snotty professor who insulted my character, and now a step-brother man-whore who disrespected my home, inheritance, and my father’s estate?
No wonder he earned his nickname. The bastard got hard for anything that let him get close enough. If his petty officer waggled near me again, he’d be wise to go on high alert—defcon one. One word, and I’d go nuclear.
“Zach.” The blonde had a soft, sultry voice, and she wore a perfume to match. I’d never get that rosy scent out of the furniture. “Promise me you’ll do as I say.”
He smiled, but the dimples didn’t dig in deep. The dog knew he got caught. I was surprised he could even feel shame.
“Always, Gretchen.”
She hummed. “Why don’t I believe you?”
“Because if I listened, I’d never have to call you again.”
“You’re probably right.” She donned a pair of designer glasses and glanced me over before turning back to him. “I’ll see you next week.”
I pushed past him into the house. He scheduled his sexcapades in front of me!
Goddamn it. He teased me with a promise of a night of blind, perfect, passionate sex to mirror the amazing night we had before. Had I less willpower, morals, and a hell of a lot more alcohol in me, who knew what might have happened!
I didn’t care how many centipedes he dispatched for me. He was a no good, perverted, fiend who probably had a girl in every port. Now I was sure of it. He wanted to get with me so he could humiliate me and take my family’s money. Unbelievable.
The front door closed. I stormed into the kitchen. His dirty dishes cluttered the sink, including a glass with a lipstick print on it.
Gross.
Zach followed me. He should have crawled on his knees to apologize.
“This isn’t how it looks,” he said.
I turned, facing a man who thought only with his cock. “Oh, so you didn’t invite Goldilocks over to my house?”
“Our house.”
“Don’t start.”
“Look, Gretchen is a close friend of mine. She was helping me with—”
“Stop,” I said. “I don’t need the details. I know exactly what she helped you with. The same thing I helped you with two weeks ago.”
“Shay—”
“You know what?” I took a cleansing breath. “You’re a grown man. You’re entitled to do whatever or whoever you like to do.”
“Listen to me—”
“I don’t care what you do, Zach. Drink the milk out of the carton. Invite over all your friends. But you will stay out of my way.”
“What does that mean?”
“It means, from now on, we’re two separate people in this house. I’ll live my life, and you’ll have yours. I’m done with you.” I shoved the dirty plate and two glasses into his arms. “You can buy your own food, wash your own dishes, and keep out of my rooms. I want nothing to do with you.”
He laughed. “You think you’re just going to…ignore me? We live together, Shay.”
“No. We share the same house. That’s it.”
“The least you can do is hear me out.”
“Oh, now you want to talk?” I poked at his chest. “Where was that initiative two weeks ago? We needed to have a very important conversation before you decided to fuck your sister.”
“For Christ’s sake, you’re my step-sister.”
“You’re only after what doesn’t belong to you. And not just me. This house. The money.”
He had the audacity to get irritated. “The house and money are legally mine.”
“Not for long. Once you’re gone, I’ll be glad to get your ass-print off my furniture.”
I left him with his dishes. He yelled after me.
“So you’re giving me the silent treatment?”
That was the plan.
“It won’t work, Shay.”
Watch me. I didn’t answer. He didn’t deserve it.
He chuckled from the kitchen, setting the plates back in the sink.
Unwashed.
“This is going to be a fun game, Shay. Just you wait. You’ll break before I do.”
Like hell. Nothing else was going to break around here. Not my resolve. Not my anger.
And not my heart…even if a tiny fragment already cracked.
Used and hurt.
Chapter Nine - Shay
Sex dreams didn’t count as incest…right?
I mean, people couldn’t control what they dreamed about. What flashed in my head wouldn’t damn me forever as a perverted, reprehensible sex-fiend. It just meant that the heart-pounding, muscle-rending, core-clenching visions were the result of my subconscious—a part of my mind that was much more deviant than I realized.
I tried to avoid Zach, but three days of radio silence was hardly a punishment. We still lived in the same space, and the mansion somehow shrunk to the size of a walk-in closet. We bumped on the stairs. Brushed hands in the garage. Accidentally blessed each other when we sneezed in the hall.
Zach grinned whenever he saw me, and I fell for the dimples every time.
I stayed away from him during the day. But at night?
My dream had us meeting in the garden, embracing under the roses, and committing delicious sins right there in the dirt. It was where we belonged. We were sex-crazed, immoral menaces, and it nearly ruined our lives.
Zach thought our indiscretions were harmless. After all, our parents weren’t married that long. It was easy for us to rationalize, but if our friends or families found out? That was a shame I couldn’t confront yet.
Hell, I couldn’t even approach Zach after having the sexiest dream of my life. I hid in my room all day just to steer clear of him. I longed to busy myself with lesson plans, but nothing for my classes or student teaching gig had been assigned yet. I checked the calendar. Four months until I graduated from college, one semester early, all thanks to Dad. He bought me a couple extra credits my freshman and sophomore year because I planned to get out into the real world as soon as possible.
Everyone—even my family and friends—assumed I wanted to inherit my trust early.
They thought I was in it for the money, and I hated having that reputation. I wasn’t a money-hungry, trust-fund baby, step-brother humper. That was not the legacy I wanted to leave on this world.
Fortunately, I could get rid of the step-brother easy enough. As soon as I got my trust, I’d buy his stake in the mansion, and he’d be out of my life quicker than I could say skeleton in the closet.
But first, I had to live with the man-whore. Except who was I to judge him? I slept with him, a complete stranger, just to have a quick, one-night stand. It was the greatest sex of my life, but it didn’t make me a pillar of morality.
Still, there was a big difference between me and Zach. He was an unrepentant playboy who propositioned me, was rejected, and then immediately leapt into bed with the first bimbo he could find.
A woman he brought into my house.
It shouldn’t have hurt as much as it did.
I abandoned my laptop and ducked into a cold shower. It didn’t dull the fire in my belly or the dreamy, forbidden fantasy that swirled in my mind. He wasn’t worth my anger. Hell, he hardly deserved the passing glance I gave him when we headed to bed last night.