Beautiful Brute: A Stepbrother College Romance (Court University Book 3)

by Eden O'Neill

  After a beat, the road found his attention. “Found an apartment off Lake Shore. Been staying there.”

  Lake Shore was very nice, the best really. I might be staying there too had I wanted to bleed my parents out of their cash—which I didn’t. Just because I could live lavishly didn’t mean I took every opportunity to do so. “Why?”

  Another smirk. “Don’t even.”

  “Don’t even what?”

  His green eyes flashed in my direction. “Look. You hate me. I get that. But you don’t have to make small talk just because I’m giving you a ride home.”

  But the thing was, I wasn’t. I wanted to know more about him.

  In fact, I always had.

  He’d been the one to throw down the gauntlet and remove the desire. I hugged myself within his jacket, the thing smelling so good. Smelling like him. “I’m not just making small talk.”

  “Well, aren’t you?”

  I shook my head. “I want to know.”

  Those words were thick in the air, another sigh on his end.

  “I guess I thought I was making it easier,” he said. “Easier for the both of us.”

  He thought about… me in that decision? I found that hard to believe.

  His jaw shifted. “Anyway, it was easier, right?” he asked, swinging a glance in my direction. He faced the road. “Easier without me?”

  I supposed it had been.

  I played with the sleeves of his jacket in silence. The thing swallowed me up and was incredibly warm. I shrugged. “Maybe.”

  “Maybe?”

  I nodded. “You just make things hard.”

  The understatement of the year, and though he may have expected that, I observed a noticeable shift of his jaw, like he actually cared what I thought about him.

  Of all things.

  “And hate is a strong word,” I said, catching his gaze again. “I’m not sure about that either.”

  Because I wasn’t, hard for me to actually hate someone. I mean, I’d thought it more than a few times when it came to him, but that didn’t make it true. I supposed I wanted it to be true.

  I really wanted it to be.

  Like I said, he made things hard, and I found I couldn’t keep his attention. I drifted my sight outside the window, easier to study the dark waves along the passing beach. Time traveled by, and soon enough, Jax got us back on campus. We cruised to the dormitory in his sleek ride, and no one was more surprised than me to show up to the place in one vehicle when I’d left in another. The fact the second car belonged to my stepbrother? Well, yeah, I wouldn’t have bet on those odds.

  Jax parked right outside the doors, the soft purr of his engine running. The car was a stick shift, so even idle, it sounded ready.

  “So you’re really not going to tell me who this dipshit is you went out with?” He’d asked more than once so I wasn’t surprised by another. He’d been steamed when he got me, like he really would go for Lawson if I let him. The whole thing was terribly confusing. Why he came to get me. Why he cared now… He frowned. “The fucker needs to know that shit isn’t okay.”

  “You going to go hurt him now?” I asked, curious. I slipped off his jacket. “There are worse ways to hurt people, you know.”

  Like completely owning their heart for an entire night only to crush it, to betray their trust in the worst possible way. He’d done that. He did that. He’d done worse than that. I handed him the jacket, and though he took it, he said nothing.

  “Thanks for coming to get me,” I said, suddenly very cold now. I wasn’t completely sure it was the absence of the jacket either. There was so much space between us, something more than physical distance. I felt like I was finally letting go of him.

  And he was letting me.

  He took the jacket back, placing it in his lap. I started to open the door before his throat cleared.

  “You okay, then?” he asked, so quiet in his purring car. I turned, and he was bunching his hair a little. He shrugged. “I mean, are you all right now? Okay?”

  I didn’t know exactly what he was asking. If I was okay about tonight or okay after him. I didn’t know if I would ever be okay.

  I mean, I still felt him in my skin.

  Part of that was the jacket, yes, but there was just something else. Something gnawing at me. I didn’t know what it was, but whatever that itch had been caused me to sit back in the bucket sit.

  “You wanna come up?” I asked, his eyes twitching wide. Believe me, no one could have been more surprised by the question. I shrugged. “I mean, to get your stuff.”

  He’d left his entire life behind, everything he’d come down with. I didn’t recognize what he wore now and assumed he’d started over with new things.

  He obviously wasn’t hard up considering his choice of ride.

  His jacket bunched between his fingers. “I can always come back when you guys aren’t around. No big.”

  Kit wouldn’t be around considering she had to work, and since he appeared to actually be on his best behavior now, I didn’t see the harm.

  “You can if you want,” I said, wrestling with my hair. He made me really nervous despite myself, awkward and shy. I huffed. “Anyway, Kit’s not here so…”

  Feeling kind of dumb, I started to get out, but he held up a hand. Next thing I knew, he was shifting the car back into gear. He pulled us around the building, and using his fob to gain entry to the dorm’s private parking, he parked, then unstrapped himself.

  I did too, watching as he pocketed his keys. We got out together, then he followed me with a heavy cadence to the back entry.

  Things had gotten kind of late so there wasn’t much activity as my stepbrother and I strode the halls. I felt him really close behind me, nearly on me. I knew because when I stopped in front of our door he physically touched my back.

  My shoulders bare I felt everything, hot lava and his large presence loomed over me. Rather than confuse myself with it, I opened the door, then let us both in.

  “Everything’s where you left it,” I said, watching him close the door behind us. “We haven’t messed with anything.”

  Not that he’d left us anything to mess with. He’d kept all his stuff in his room, his door locked.

  I mean, we’d checked.

  In a rage, Kit and I both wanted someone to pay for how Jax had treated me over the weekend. His stuff was the next best thing, but he’d kept his door locked.

  I was happy about that now as he circulated the place. My stepbrother seemed generous now, calm, but who knew what would happen if he’d noticed all his things violated. He eased his hands in his shorts’ pockets. “Thanks. I’ll just make a few trips then.”

  Nodding, I left him to it. I noticed him watching me as I left, but I paid no attention to it. I couldn’t.

  Instead, I decided to shower and wash the evening off. I still felt Lawson’s hands on me, and I wanted to remove the sensation as soon as I could. I exited the room with my shower caddy and a change of clothes. I assumed Jax was gathering things since his door was open and light spilled out into the hall.

  Moving quickly in an attempt to avoid him, I went right to it with the shower. I didn’t use the communal area after the incident with him and stayed behind a private curtain. Something told me I wouldn’t have a problem tonight, though.

  It seemed I was right, a completely quiet and easy shower. More than nice, I relished in the heat awhile before wrapping it up. When I got back to the room, I figured Jax would be done, gone, but I noticed his light still on down the hall. I didn’t hear anything so I figured he’d just left it on.

  Padding lightly in my shorts and tank, I snuck a look into the room. He wasn’t in there, the area completely cleaned out outside of the bedspread and a few clothes in the walk-in closet. Since he wasn’t done I started to leave until I noticed the picture frame on his desk.

  It had my father in it.

  Well, my adoptive father. Truth be told, I hadn’t seen my biological dad in years. He’d stopped paying ch
ild support at eighteen, and outside of a few “How are you doing?” texts, I didn’t hear from him at all. He checked up on me, of course, from time to time, but had moved on. He’d even remarried.

  I guessed like Jax’s dad.

  But it wasn’t my mom and me in the photo with Rick Fairchild, but another family, a past.

  There was a crazy beautiful woman in the photo, like crazy beautiful, and I assumed that was Jax’s mom Sherry. Blond, her hair breezed in the wind of whatever beach they were on. A younger version of my adoptive father, Rick was on the other side of her. He appeared so, so happy, a smile I’d seen many times, and to the left of Sherry, I found it hard to identify the boy under her arm.

  Jaxen was so young, eyes far from anger as he held the waist of his mother on the beach. He maybe looked ten in this photo, if that, and the smile on his face he wore for days. It was obnoxiously huge like he was trying to win an award for it, on the tips of his toes. It was as if the very expression attempted to pull itself out of him, so much joy on his face as he grinned directly at the sun. I really didn’t recognize him, or this family. My adoptive dad held both his wife at the time and Jax, his reach that extensive. He held them both, his entire family gathered up under his arm.

  It took me a moment to realize I was being watched and another to gather my wits as I’d somehow come to hold the keepsake. Jax, my Jax today, had his big body lounged up against the room’s empty desk, his arms folded and ankles crossed like he’d been there for a while.

  “Sorry,” I said, completely flustered as I put the photo down. He pushed off the desk, coming over, and honestly, I didn’t know what he’d do.

  “Sorry for what?” he asked, analyzing the photo before studying me. I stood so close I could taste him, his spicy aftershave.

  Overwhelmed, I looked away, and he reached to take the photo himself. I shrugged. “I was just checking to see if you were done. I saw the light on and came to turn it off. I didn’t mean to get into your stuff.”

  The truth, but I wrestled with my hands as if I were guilty. I had kind of sort of gone through his stuff. It wasn’t mine, and I had no right.

  A shake of his head as Jax returned the photo to the desk.

  “No big,” he said, all the attention he gave to the photo. I noticed it was one of few things he’d left in this room beyond his bedspread and clothing items. Had he been intending on leaving it? He cuffed his arms. “I am almost done so… just doing one more sweep.”

  Nodding, I thought to leave him to it, but was curious when he passed the photo completely and started getting his clothes out of the closet. Gathering them up, he shoved them all in a box he had at the foot of the bed.

  I watched him pack away, staying out of his way. I thought he’d get the photo, but all he did was close the box.

  He picked it up. “I’ll be 5230 E. Lakeshore Dr,” he said, a subtle lift of his broad shoulder. “You know. Just in case.”

  In case what? In case he forgot something?

  Maybe even he didn’t know. Because he said nothing as he passed me with the box. I stopped him, grabbing the photo. “You’re not going to take this?”

  He looked at it again, frowning. “I have others. That’s not my favorite. I look like a fucking goober in it I’m smiling so big.”

  I thought it was cute, smiling myself. I touched his little face. “Where did you guys go?”

  “Uh, St. Clare,” he said, sliding the box down and taking the photo. His gaze drifted to the ceiling in thought. “Like a summer or two before the divorce or something. One of our last family trips.”

  There wasn’t any emotion behind what he said, and maybe it’d been so long ago there wasn’t any emotion.

  I lounged back, gripping his desk. “My family’s was at Disney. World, not Land. It was a good time.”

  A great time really. We had no worries back then, no drama.

  And we’d had Nathan.

  He’d only been like two and would never have remembered the trip if he were alive today. I barely did, all of it fading so much.

  Jax’s hand slid down the photo. “You still talk to your dad?”

  I nodded. “Here and there. He sends a text every once in a while. But it was like, once I turned eighteen, he just kind of was gone. He struggles a lot. Gambling. Drinking. He got so bad after…”

  I nearly said his name, Nathan.

  Almost instantly the sickness rose, but it didn’t used to be this way. I could say his name. It’d been okay. I wasn’t okay, but I’d gotten myself to a place where I was.

  I guessed after last weekend, things were really fresh.

  Again, Jax’s attention was on me. He completely put down the photo once more, just staring at me. He opened his mouth, as if to say something, but I realized in that moment, I think I overstayed my welcome.

  Playing with my braid, I passed him, but when I clipped his shoulder, Jax angled himself in front me. He was full blown heat, height and body, and none of it, I had any idea what to do with.

  “I’m sorry again for getting into your things.” Instead, I chose an apology, easy and my default. My guilt had returned, guilt surrounding my lost sibling, and I thought maybe, apologizing for something else, would help. Help anything going on inside me. Giving myself always made me feel better. But no amount of volunteer or charity work ever completely removed the pain. I had an eternal debt, a sin that would always plague me.

  Jax was one of them. Because no matter how much I wasn’t supposed to feel attracted to him, I was. I couldn’t stop the feeling of wanting to touch him, taste him, which was precisely the reason I didn’t back away.

  And let him get closer.

  His hand on the desk, he angled his body near mine in a way our chests nearly brushed. His lips wetted, his head dipped. “Why didn’t you tell me about your brother, Girl Scout?”

  My heartbeat punched a hole directly through my rib cage, my eyes flashing wide at him. “How did you know about that?”

  Had he always known? Had he always played me for a fool? Did he know about my brother before pretending to drown in that water? A million questions in my head, Jax wrestling with his hair.

  “Rick,” he said, frowning. “He said that’s why… Last weekend?” Another wrestle of his hair. “I wish you would have said something.”

  So he hadn’t known.

  Complete silence on my end. Because what could I have said? I freaked out because my actual brother died in that same way? I freaked out because I felt guilty.

  Because I’d basically killed him myself?

  I did by neglecting him, letting him fall in that pool. My little brother’s death was my fault, only mine and no one else’s.

  No, I wouldn’t say any of those things to my stepbrother now. I wouldn’t have him see me weaker than I already felt.

  Hugging my arms, I started to shoulder away from him, but he grabbed me.

  He grabbed me.

  My hips fell into his heavy hold, his jaw worked so tight his temple pulsed, and the vein in his neck protruded. “Why would you ever go in that water after me?”

  I had no words for him, because each word was one I didn’t want to hear. That I cared about him.

  That I more than cared about him.

  That the concept of life and death and fear—I didn’t think about that day. I just thought he’d been drowning.

  “You were…” I started, my lips trembling. “I thought you were drowning.”

  “But why—” His lips opened and closed, his voice thick and gravelly before he gripped his jaw. “But you didn’t know how to swim.”

  “I do,” I said, clearly surprising him when his head shot up. “I just forgot. I… I panicked.”

  I spoke the words weaker than I meant to, that I had panicked, seeing him. It had brought back so many horrible memories for me.

  “Panicked because of your brother,” he said, closing his eyes. He shook his head. “Why would you ever take that risk? That risk on me.”

  His words had bee
n quiet this time, and though not weak, they were laced with just as much emotion.

  “Jax…”

  “You know I want to fucking hate you,” he started, my eyes twitching wide. “I want to, but you make it so goddamn hard.”

  But why? Why did he want to hate me? Hurt me? I started to touch him, but he backed away as if I’d burn him.

  He swallowed. “But the worst part about this? Is that he wins. Every goddamn time, he wins.”

  “Who wins?” I rushed to him, but he just angled away again.

  His expression fell. “I want to hate you. I need to hate you. I don’t want to…”

  He didn’t finish. Because in the next moment, he was reaching for me.

  And cradling my face.

  His mouth actually trembled over my lips, light before crashing hard. He tasted my tongue, aggressive as he gripped my hair and pulled my head back. This gave him better access, his mouth completely devouring mine.

  “Why do you hate me?” I gasped but for some reason, kissed him harder. I felt his ache, the force of it quaking through his lips. It surged off him like raw heat. He was Lucifer in the depths, a fallen angel.

  He didn’t answer me as he spun me around by the hair. Closing the door, he pressed my body up against it, his cock pillowed between my ass cheeks.

  He ran himself up and down, dragging his mouth through my hair and making my nipples burn.

  “Just let me have this,” he retched, as if he actually needed it, needed me. Gathering my breasts, he pulled me to him. “I need inside you.”

  “Please…” My only response as I faded into vapor in his hands, every touch a scalding hot burn I actually wanted to mar me. His mark was truly needed.

  And had been for so long it actually hurt.

  I’d dreamed about his touch more than one night, fantasized about it. I wanted my stepbrother, my bully.

  I really had come to him.

  I was beyond caring at this point, Jax biting my lips from above. He undid his pants while he backed us up to his bed. He forced them down and when he picked me up, he tossed me on the sheets.

  “Girl Scout,” he dragged over my mouth, so hard through his boxers. Since I was only wearing sleep shorts I felt everything, his body a simmering force of want and warmth. “God, if you don’t fuck with my head.”