Stepbrother With Benefits: An Opposites Attract Romance (Mason Family Book 2)

by Hazel Kelly

  "My company didn't make it fly by?" he asked, glancing at me with his usual playfulness. But there was something else there, too. A darkness. Something tormented. Like he didn't know if he was happy to be home.

  "Your company made it something alright," I mumbled, leaning my bike against the aluminum siding of the garage and unwrapping the lock from under my seat.

  "At least your precious baby got home safe," he said, triggering the backyard’s floodlight as he nodded towards my Schwinn.

  "That is the most important thing," I said, slinging the lock through the front wheel and sliding it shut. I dug for my keys in my purse since he’d made no move for his and headed for the door, trying to ignore the way his eyes followed me. And as my hand trembled towards the lock, the shadow of his broad shoulders drifted over mine.

  "You're shaking."

  "No, I'm not."

  His hand covered mine when I wrapped it around the knob. "Brie."

  "What?" I breathed.

  "Can I ask you a question?" His deep voice was soft, and it pulled at my chest.

  I turned my head to the side. "What?"

  "Did you used to have a crush on me?"

  I swallowed. "When?"

  "Ever."

  I looked the rest of the way over my shoulder and moved into his shadow so I could see his face. "Yes."

  "When?" he asked, his solid body so still it made my own feel heavy.

  "When I was a kid," I said, my heart thumping. "When we were kids." With the floodlight overhead, I could see the way the silhouette of his jaw hardened. "I think it was because you were the first guy who was nice to me. I don't think it was personal or anything."

  "It felt personal."

  I blinked up at him. "You knew?"

  "It still feels personal."

  "James—"

  "I'm not done."

  "You have to be," I said, overwhelmed by the charged energy coming off his body. "Please. Don't say something you can't unsay."

  "Why?" His eyes searched mine. "Because I've gotten so good at leaving things unsaid? Maybe I'm tired of that. What if I'm ready to say the things I should've said a long time ago?"

  "I wish you wouldn't," I said, turning fast into the house and leaving him on the stoop like the big chicken I was. Then I went straight to the fridge. Partly out of habit and partly because I needed to busy myself with something besides the way it felt to stand in his shadow. It was like being under him. Like the weight of his body was on me, part of me. I let the cool air blast my face and closed my eyes to the blue glow of the fridge, but when I felt him behind me, they popped open.

  "Brie."

  "What?" I squeaked.

  "What you want isn't in there and you know it."

  I could feel his charged body behind me, but he wasn't touching me anywhere. I held still, longing for him to slide his hands around my hips and dip his face into my hair, into the crook of my neck. But he held his ground, the kitchen clock ticking somewhere in the distance. "How do you know what I want?"

  He was quiet for a moment before he finally spoke. "Because you're not the only one who wants it."

  "James." I spun around. "If we do this—"

  But I never finished the thought because he stopped my lips with his.

  T W E N T Y O N E

  - James -

  I felt lighter the moment I kissed her, like a hundred winged anvils had flown from my chest. But that wasn't why I did it. Hell, I couldn't have known how it would feel. All I knew was that I couldn't spend one more day in this purgatory of not knowing if the pull between us was all in my head.

  And she kissed me back. Gently at first, her startled lips softening against mine and then parting curiously, right around the time she should've pulled back and slapped me across the face. Except that didn't happen. Nor did a bad taste rise in my throat like I was doing something wrong.

  Maybe I should've talked to her about it first, but I feared talking would only lead to more frustration, more words. And I couldn't handle another drop of frustration. As for words, I wanted more from her, and she deserved to know that.

  She laid a hand on my chest, and I braced myself for the shove that was coming. But it didn't come. Instead, she tightened her fist around my shirt and pulled me closer. I shoved her back against the fridge and kissed her harder, grabbing her hips and letting her feel her effect on me, the swell of my need hardening against her stomach.

  She gasped for breath and I kissed my way down the side of her face, my lips lingering where her jaw met her earlobe, the smell of her jasmine-scented bedroom filling my mind with blossoms and filth.

  "James."

  She’d never uttered my name like that before, as if she were pleading with me and surrendering at the same time. The sound made me harden on the outside and soften within. I sank my fingers into her hips and sucked a slip of her neck between my teeth, eliciting a whimper from her that made me forget everything: who we were, why it took me so long to do this, why it shouldn't continue.

  My hands drifted towards her waist, sculpting her body beneath my palms, beneath her shirt.

  "Stop," she whispered. "Please."

  I did as she wished, planting my hands on the fridge behind her but leaving my head where it hung against the curve of her neck, my heavy breathing the loudest sound in the room.

  "We can't do this."

  I looked up at her. "It's too late."

  "We can still pretend this never happened."

  I pushed off the fridge and straightened up, my eyes trying to figure out how pink her bee-stung lips would've looked in a brighter light. "Is that what you want?" I asked, my stomach churning at the thought.

  "I don't know."

  I scratched the back of my head and put another step between us. "Do I owe you an apology?"

  She shook her head, her eyes shining in the dark. "No."

  My shoulders dropped with my relief. "Good."

  She cocked her head.

  "There’s nothing worse than an insincere apology."

  She nibbled her lip and studied me. "I don't want us to do something we'll regret."

  I leaned back against the butcher block, suddenly aware of the head rush that had come on from kissing her. "The only thing I regret is not doing that ten years ago."

  "What?"

  "You heard me," I said. "And you kissed me back."

  "I know."

  "So what's the problem?"

  "You've been drinking."

  "Cut the crap, Brie. I had two Bud Lights and then walked all the way home."

  "I need time to think."

  "About what?"

  "This!" She gestured between us. "What do you mean about what? Have you lost your mind?"

  "Have you?" I asked, stepping up to her. "Seriously. Can you give me one good reason why I shouldn't kiss you again right now?"

  Her lips fell open, but the reasons never came. Or maybe I kissed her again before they arrived, swallowing them with her breath, my body surging as she squeezed the tops of my arms and tasted me back with lips that were anything but bitter.

  "Sorry," I said, pulling away so her exhale fell between us. "You were saying?"

  She lifted her fingers to her lips for a moment before berating me again. "Don't be a smartass. This isn't funny."

  "Couldn't agree more."

  “You know this is crazy."

  "Crazy runs in the family."

  She groaned. "Do you have a clever quip for everything? This is serious!"

  "Seriously hot," I said, struggling to catch my breath. "And you fucking know it."

  "I can't do this," she said, raising her palms.

  "Do what?"

  "You!" She shook her hands towards me. "I can't do you."

  I smiled.

  "Don't laugh at me."

  "I'm not," I said. "I would never."

  "You are."

  I shook my head.

  "Then why do you have that stupid expression on your face?"

  "Because I'm thin
king of all the things I'd rather do than laugh at you."

  "Well, stop," she said, lifting a finger between us. "Stop thinking about all those things."

  "No chance."

  "James."

  "You want to know what some of them are?" I asked, stepping into her space again. If she meant to object, she failed to do it out loud, because all I heard was the sharp exhale that fell from her lips. "I’d rather make you sweat," I said, locking my eyes on hers. "Rather make you beg."

  Her chest rose and fell with her shallow breaths.

  "Rather make you come."

  She swallowed.

  "So excuse me if laughing is about the furthest thing from my mind, but I already know we're good at that." I tipped her chin and dragged a hand down her neck until I could feel her heart pounding through her chest. "I want to find out what else we're good at."

  She wrapped a hand around my wrist but didn't pull it away. "What about everyone else?"

  "They're not here," I said. "This is none of their concern."

  She dragged my hand down the center of her body, between the mounds of her breasts, and I snagged my fingertips on the waistband of her jeans before letting my wrist fall away.

  "Can I ask you a question?" she whispered.

  "If you really think talking is going to make any of this—"

  "Are you fucking with me right now?"

  I turned an ear towards her. "I'm trying to. Am I being too subtle? I thought—"

  "I mean it." She stepped back and looked up at me, her eyes brimming with an insecurity I hadn't seen in them before. "Are you fucking with me right now?"

  "Brie."

  "Tell me!" she said, her face filled with pain. "Because if this is the Mason kids’ idea of a funny joke, you're all more fucked up than I thought."

  "Whoa." I pressed the air between us with flat palms. "What are you talking about?"

  "Why did you kiss me?" she asked. "Tell me the truth."

  "You want the truth?"

  She nodded and wiped a tear from her cheek.

  "Because I'm sick of not kissing you."

  "It's not a joke?"

  "If it is, it's not on you."

  "What's that supposed to mean?"

  "Did it feel like a fucking joke when I kissed you just now?” I asked. “When you kissed me back?"

  "Look, I don't know where you think this is going or where you think it could go, but—"

  "I haven't thought about any of that. I just wanted to know…" I groaned and ran a hand through my hair.

  "What?"

  "Whether you would kiss me back, okay? That's all I wanted to know."

  Her eyes searched mine. "So you have your answer."

  "I do."

  She pressed her lips together, and they looked deliciously wet when she released them. "Goodnight then."

  My jaw dropped as she walked away, but when I realized she didn't seem mad or upset, a warm glow spread through me. "That's it? You're just going to walk away?!"

  Her feet hit the stairs when she rounded the corner, and I took long steps to reach the bottom before she disappeared into her room. "Hey!" I called after her, my ears straining for noise from above. But all was silent. Including her bedroom door, which meant she was still on the landing and could still hear me.

  A floorboard creaked beneath her feet, and she appeared beside the bannister overhead. "Hey, what?"

  I stared up at her, my heart swelling when her lips finally curled towards a shy smile. "I don't get a kiss goodnight?"

  Her smile spread wider, lifting her rosy cheeks. "Maybe tomorrow."

  T W E N T Y T W O

  - Brie -

  Maybe tomorrow? Why the hell had I said that? Okay, so I knew why. Because my brain was a cloud of cotton candy in that moment, and my heart was pulsing like a lovesick, cartoon skunk’s.

  But that was then, and this was…tomorrow.

  I wrapped my hands around my reusable travel mug and smiled down at my lap as the warmth spread from my palms all the way up my arms. Then I looked up at the silver-blue lake ahead and took a deep breath.

  So this was what it was like to get kissed by someone you wanted all over. I pressed my lips together, my mind flashing back to the way they buzzed from his attention. They felt like a more prominent part of my face today, so much so that I half expected the woman at Beans to Meet You to ask me why they looked different.

  But she'd served me like nothing had changed. How wrong she was. Even if the grey clouds moving through the autumn sky opened over me in that moment, I don't think I'd even feel the rain. Even if lightning struck the bench I was resting on, I don't think the shock would be enough to jar me from my reverie.

  After all, I was a leading lady now in a romance all my own, a romance full of magic and intrigue, and as long as I didn't stop feeling and start thinking, I'd never have to question whether these flowery feelings were okay. Because I needed them to be okay. Because there hadn't been a moment last night when his touch felt wrong or dirty or anything but pure and right and long overdue.

  I hadn't even had time to question yet how far he might’ve taken things if his kiss hadn't been so overwhelming. But in a good way. Usually overwhelm made me feel heavy and anxious. But that kiss was different. And the second one was even better. Like lifting off in a hot-air balloon. Or like the moment the ramp of an icy ski jump drops from under your feet and you go soaring through the air. Not that I'd ever done either of those things.

  Just like I'd never kissed my stepbrother before.

  Maybe tomorrow.

  When I said that, there was no doubt in my mind that I wanted to kiss him again. But at the time, I was still reeling from the force behind his kiss. It was so loaded. As if his lips were divulging years' worth of confessions. I’d never felt so irresistible.

  But I should feel guilty now. Dirty. Nauseous. Surely by now, the gravity of the situation should've sunk in. So why did I still feel like goddamn glowworm?

  I took another deep breath as my new phone began vibrating in the bottom of my purse. I would've bet anything that it was Crystal calling to explain why she was late, but it wasn't. It was my mother. "Hi."

  "I'm so glad I caught you," she said, her voice warm and her vowels drippy.

  "You caught me," I said, surprised at how close she sounded. Maybe I needed a new phone more than I realized. "How's the Florida sunshine treating you?"

  "So good," she said. "I've been lying in the sun like a teenager."

  "Except no teenager wears SPF 50 all over."

  She laughed. "True."

  "Where are you guys now?"

  "Just outside Naples."

  "Wow," I said, trying to guess how far that was from Orlando. "You guys are covering a lot of ground."

  "There's a lot to cover," she said. "And we've loved every place more than the last so we decided it would be better to leave no stone unturned than jump the gun and settle."

  And leave no cliché unturned, I thought. "Well, don't exhaust yourself or you'll need a vacation from your vacation."

  "Oh, you know us," she said. "We like to stay busy. Idle hands, as they say."

  Idle hands what? I wanted to ask. Drink bathtubs full of white wine? Except it was better to keep the jokes to myself. I knew better than anyone how fragile she was, how constant her fight to stay sober. And then the most horrible thought crossed my mind. I told myself it was ridiculous, but what if it wasn't? What if this thing between James and me made her reach for a drink? I swallowed the lump of horror that rose in my throat.

  "We also want to make sure we pick a place with a cool Bible study group."

  I exhaled the breath I was holding, insisting to myself that what she didn't know couldn't hurt her…so long as she never found out.

  "They haven't all been winners," she said. "Bill fell asleep in one of them."

  I freed a fake laugh, but it seemed a more supportive reaction than “yeah, well, Leviticus isn't exactly a page turner.”

  "I had to elbow
him to wake him up."

  "Did anyone see?" I asked, admittedly curious about this mysterious book club she belonged to that insisted on reading the same book every month.

  "I don't think so," she said. "It was an old crowd. I think half of them were reading from memory when it was their turn anyway because they hadn’t thought to update the prescriptions in their reading glasses."

  "Jesus."

  "Brie."

  I scrunched my nose and apologized even though I wasn't sorry. I didn't think for one second Jesus would be offended by my using his name like that. What celebrity would be? If you told Justin Bieber or Lady Gaga that their fame would be so pervasive their name would be used as an expletive in two thousand years, they’d be delighted.

  "How's James?"

  The question caught me so off-guard I snorted coffee up my nose, making my eyes water. “Good,” I coughed.

  "Are you alright?"

  "Yeah." My hoarse reply was unconvincing. "Wrong pipe."

  "Oh dear. I hate when that happens."

  I cleared my throat and shook my shoulders back. "Why do you ask about James?"

  "Bill was telling me last night about the nightmare he's going through with his house,” she said. "It sounds awful. Though I admit I'm happy you're not home alone."

  The irony was that my idle hands would get into much less trouble on their own.

  "Anyway, I hope you're making him feel welcome."

  I bit my tongue.

  "Brie?"

  "I am, yeah. Not that he needs an invitation to make himself at home."

  "You know what I mean."

  "I'm not sure I do."

  "Don't be difficult," she said. "I'm only asking that you be a gracious host."

  My left hand tightened around my mug.

  "Or at least, don't do anything to embarrass me."

  My blood simmered. God forbid I even the score.

  "Did you hear what I said?"

  "Yeah," I said, my coffee-soaked tongue going bitter. "Just trying to figure out when you started giving a rat’s about your reputation."

  "Don't be argumentative."