Chapter 8 My Stepbrother And I

Chris's fingers continued their sojourn, slipping over my panty line and reveling in the damp of my desire as they slid past my soft split, entering the tight, welcome of my sex.

"So fucking tight."

My breathing changed, and I loosed a whispered moan, more of a whimper really. Answering me, he thrust his fingers deeper, claiming me with three digits as he reveled in the taste of my skin, his mouth covering the curve where the neck meets the shoulder. He was impossibly hard now. Hot and ready to take me right there if he wanted to.

"Chris, I-"

"Yeah, babe?"

Chris eyes blinked open when he felt her hand brush his away, his fingers immediately releasing her.

"I can't do this."

He grinned, stupidly assuming I was being coy.

"Yet, you haven't said the magic words."

Chris watched my jaw clench, and I averted my eyes, but when I looked at him again, there was a steely resolve in them that made it clear he'd not been able to change my mind.

"Walk away, Chris." I finally said.

Pushing gently against him, I slipped out of the corner he'd backed me into, and with a faltering glance back, I lifted my chin and pushed my way out of the door, practically leaving him there with a hard on cock.

----

I headed straight to my bedroom, my whole body trembling from what had just taken place between me and Chris. He had just had his fingers up my skirt. And I'd let him. I couldn't imagine facing him, let alone ever talking to him again. But that would be absolutely impossible since I now live under the same roof as him.

I obviously couldn't be trusted around him, and that left one option: avoid him. No matter how difficult it would be since they were now living together. I was ready to try my best to avoid Chris at all costs. The farther the distance I could create from him, the best chance I'd have at giving us both an opportunity to move on, and forget what had transpired between us.

There was just too much chemistry between us to trust what was sure to go down if we found ourselves in a room alone together.

With a sigh, I plopped on my bed. This whole situation with Chris was stickier than I had presumed.

I lay on my bed, staring up at the ceiling, my heart still racing from what had just happened. My skin tingled where Chris had touched me, the memory of his fingers skimming over my thighs, teasing me, claiming me. My breath hitched as I clenched my eyes shut, willing myself to erase the sensation-the way my body had reacted to him, the way I had almost let myself give in.

But I hadn't.

I had stopped it.

I had walked away.

That should have made me feel proud, victorious even, but all I felt was turmoil.

Because the truth was, part of me hadn't wanted to stop.

Rolling onto my side, I hugged a pillow to my chest, letting out a long, slow breath. How had I let it get this far? I had been in this house for barely a day, and already, I had crossed a line I never should have approached. It was madness.

Chris was dangerous. Not in the way of a villain, but in the way a bad decision could ruin you, make you crave something you shouldn't have. He was the flame, and I was the foolish moth, drawn to the heat despite knowing I could get burned.

And now, I had to live under the same roof as him.

The thought made my stomach twist uncomfortably. Avoiding him was the only logical option. No more lingering glances across the dinner table. No more accidental brushes of our skin. No more stolen moments in dimly lit hallways.

It wouldn't be easy, though. Chris was persistent, arrogant, and cocky. He would see my avoidance as a challenge. And if tonight had taught me anything, it was that he thrived on pushing my limits.

I groaned into my pillow, frustrated with myself.

The best thing I could do was stay away. Act indifferent. Pretend that nothing had happened. If I treated it like a mistake and moved on, maybe, just maybe, he would too.

A sharp knock at the door jolted her from her thoughts. My body tensed.

No.

It couldn't be him.

I sat up slowly, heart thudding in my chest. "Who is it?" she called out, voice steadier than she felt.

"Stella, it's me," my mother's voice came through the door.

Relief flooded me, though it was quickly replaced by annoyance. I wasn't in the mood for another one of my mother's gushing speeches about the wedding or how lucky we were to be here. But avoiding Chris also meant playing along with this whole charade, and that included putting up with my mother.

"Come in," I said, forcing my voice to sound neutral.

My mother entered, all smiles, dressed in one of her fancy silk robes, looking every bit the woman who had finally secured the life she'd always dreamed of. She sat down on the edge of the bed, reaching out to tuck a strand of my hair behind my ear, a rare show of maternal affection.

"You left dinner so abruptly," she noted, studying me with slightly narrowed eyes. "Is everything alright?"

I nodded quickly. "Yeah, just tired. It's been a long day."

Her mother sighed, giving me a knowing look. "I know this is a big adjustment for you, sweetheart, but I promise it's for the best. This life... this house, this opportunity-it's everything we've ever wanted. You just have to give it a chance."

We?

I bit back the bitter retort that threatened to spill from my lips. This was what my mother had always wanted, not me.

But I didn't argue.

I simply nodded, forcing a small smile. "I know, Mom. I'll try."

My mother beamed, pleased with the answer, before leaning forward to kiss my forehead. "Good girl. Get some rest, tomorrow's a big day. We need you looking your best for the photo shoot."

With that, she stood up and left, closing the door behind her with a soft click.

I exhaled slowly, sinking back against the pillows.

Tomorrow was a new day. A new chance to start fresh, to put some much-needed distance between myself and Chris.

I could do this.

I had to do this.

But deep down, I knew-avoiding Chris would be far easier said than done.