by Jenika Snow
Because of You
Jenika Snow
Contents
Synopsis
Chapter One
Chapter Two
Chapter Three
Chapter Four
Chapter Five
Chapter Six
Chapter Seven
Chapter Eight
Epilogue
BECAUSE OF YOU
By Jenika Snow
www.JenikaSnow.com
[email protected]
Copyright © February 2019 by Jenika Snow
Cover design by: Read Me Romance
Editor: Kasi Alexander
Proofreader: Read by Rose
ALL RIGHTS RESERVED: The unauthorized reproduction, transmission, or distribution of any part of this copyrighted work is illegal. Criminal copyright infringement is investigated by the FBI and is punishable by up to five years in federal prison and a fine of $250,000.
This literary work is fiction. Any name, places, characters and incidents are the product of the author’s imagination. Any resemblance to actual persons, living or dead, events or establishments is solely coincidental.
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It started with a kiss.
It shouldn’t have led to anything more because of what we were to each other.
But I loved him, even if he was my stepbrother.
He was called a bad boy, a degenerate, and was rough and raw in every male way that counted.
But I loved him still.
And that one night, those taboo touches, the softly, filthily spoken words he whispered changed my life forever.
He gave me his baby.
Before I had a chance to tell him, he was sent away, ripped from my life and leaving this open wound.
But I waited for him.
A year has passed and now he’s back, wanting us to start where we left off.
And I want that, but I can’t hide the truth anymore. He has to know this baby is his.
Chapter One
Sutton
I was hard, so fucking hard I just wanted to pull my cock out and jerk off as I stared at Catherine. I was being a fucking voyeur, watching her sunbathe in that little red bikini, my heart beating so damn hard it was liable to burst out of my chest.
Catherine.
The only girl who’d ever put me in knots.
The only person who made me want to do filthy fucking things.
Catherine.
My stepsister.
She sat up and reached for the sunblock, squirting a dollop of white cream on her hand before setting the bottle aside. She rubbed her palms together and I found myself groaning, leaning in closer toward the window to get a better look. She first ran her hands over her arms, down her sides, and then over her belly. And then she moved those small, delicate fingers up her ribcage and lathered her breasts.
Sweet Jesus.
I was breathing hard, hyperventilating. I reached out and grabbed the frame of the window, curling my fingers around the wood until I heard it creak slightly from the force.
And like a fucking pervert, I reached down and grabbed my cock through my jeans, giving the length a squeeze and grunting as pleasure shot up my spine. She stood and walked over to the pool, the sun beating down on her alabaster skin. Her long dark hair was pulled up into a ponytail and my fingers itched to reach out and take those strands, wrap them around my hand and tilt her head back so I could devour her mouth.
She dipped her toe into the water and moved her leg around. I followed the length of her calf, over her thigh, and stopped at the roundness of her ass. I lowered my gaze and focused on that perfectly apple-shaped bottom.
Fuck.
The bikini she wore didn’t cover the mounds fully, a V of material that just barely concealed the luscious crack of the most flawless, delectable ass I’d ever seen.
If she knew all the filthy things I thought about, the images that slammed into my head every time she walked into the room, she’d run in the other direction or call me out as being a pervert.
But this was how I’d felt for the last two years.
When my father married her mother and they moved into our house, all I’d been able to think about was how I wanted to have every single inch of Catherine.
Was it wrong to want my stepsister? To society maybe.
Did I care? Fuck no.
“Sutton.”
My father’s booming voice came from downstairs and I made a low sound in my throat, not wanting to move away from where I was, from the voyeuristic scene before me. She was in the pool now, doing lazy laps, moving onto her back and closing her eyes, her breasts gently bobbing out of the water.
Christ.
I could cum in my damn jeans from this alone.
“Sutton, get your ass down here.”
I growled low and turned away from the window, stalking downstairs until I stood in front of my father. I knew what this was about.
He exhaled slowly, that look of disappointment I was so familiar with covering his face. I already knew what he was going to say. He held up his cell phone, as if that was going to explain everything.
“You know who I just got off phone with?”
I crossed my arms over my chest. “Maxwell Davis?” That pompous, arrogant little rich asshole whose father got him out of every single shit hole he dug himself in. Of course, I didn’t say any of that because it wouldn’t have made a difference.
“Marshall Davis, Sutton. His father.” He closed his eyes and pinched the bridge of his nose. “Why is it you can’t keep your nose out of trouble?”
My father, a military man through and through, had been disappointed that I’d showed no interest in following his footsteps. Instead, I was labeled a bad boy, a troublemaker. And I was, there was no denying that.
I gave no fucks when it came to the majority of things.
Until Catherine came into my life, that is.
I had been this way right after my mother died. He blamed it on that, trauma, thought I was acting out because of my grief. And maybe that was the case, but it made no difference now. At eighteen years old, I’d just graduated high school, same as Catherine. I wouldn’t be the type to go to college, not like her. She was smart as fuck on top of being gorgeous.
I’d probably surprised the whole school, hell, the fucking town by getting that diploma. And I knew that sooner rather than later I’d have to move away. I couldn’t stay here, not with my father looking at me as if I were a disappointment, and the very real temptation of Catherine.
Besides, why he hell would I want to stay when even my own father saw me as a stain on the “family name”?
“Answer me, son.”
Frank Charles Caldwell.
Even my father’s name could bring fear into someone with how stern and clipped it sounded.
“He started the shit,” I said without any remorse, but my father held up his hand and shook his head. It was clear he didn’t want to hear the real story, and instead went off the word of a prominent member of the town, even if it was nothing but lies.
“I don’t want to hear it. This isn’t the first time you’ve gotten into this kind of trouble, and it’s not even the worst of it. I know it won’t be the last either. This is how you’ve been for years.”
This melancholy feeling slammed into me, and I instinctively moved away from my father as if tentacles had wrapped around me and were pulling. I didn’t let it in though. I was used to him talking down to me, never listening to what I had to say. Maybe that was why I did the things I did, got into fights, got in trouble with the police, did everything and anything to feel something other than this hole that had grown an
d festered inside of me.
“Mr. Davis said you stole Maxwell’s wallet, then proceeded to instigate a fight, which lead to him almost getting a broken nose. You’re lucky he’s not pressing any charges.”
I snorted at the story that had been told to my father. “Did he happen to also tell you that Maxwell was harassing a girl at the park? Did he tell you that he copped a feel and assaulted her, which led to her slugging him in the face and that’s why he almost got the broken nose?” I shook my head. “To be honest I should’ve kicked his ass until his legs were broke.” My father stayed silent. “And the wallet situation—” I shrugged, lifting my hand and rubbing it along my cheek, feeling the stubble start to come back in from my morning shave. “I don’t need to steal anything from that prick.”
I could see that he didn’t believe me by the way he narrowed his eyes, exhaled slowly, and shook his head.
“Always stories with you. One day you’re not going to catch a break. One day you’re going to get sent away or locked up, and that’ll be good because finally you’ll learn to stay out of trouble.”
Well, fuck you too, Dad.
With that, he turned away from me, grabbed his keys off the counter, and headed out the front door. I stood there for a moment just staring out the kitchen window, feeling my annoyance and anger rise. My father would believe a virtual stranger over his own son.
I turned and froze, seeing Rochelle, my stepmother, standing in the doorway of the kitchen. She had a sympathetic look on her face, never breaking her focus from me. I didn’t want her to feel bad for me, didn’t want anything from anyone.
After my mother passed away I’d learned to crawl into myself. It was my safe spot, one where no one could touch me, one where the hurt couldn’t find me. And over the years I let that grow into the black hole that now consumed me.
I walked past her without saying a word and grabbed my running shorts and sneakers. I headed out the back door. I needed to get out of here, go for a run until I could barely walk, work off this extra aggression.
I saw Catherine climbing out of the pool and immediately froze, this instant reaction in me at her presence, at the very sight of her.
“Hey,” she said softly and walked over to her lounge chair to grab her towel. I tried not to stare, but the way the droplets of water moved down her body had everything in me hardening, tightening.
“Hey.” My voice was rough as fuck.
“What’s wrong?” She had the towel wrapped around her slender form, but it did nothing to hide her from me. In fact, it showed her curves, the terrycloth molding to her perfect shape.
“Just the same old shit.” She knew how my father was. Hell, she knew how I was.
“I’m sorry,” she said but it wasn’t laced with sympathy; instead, it had this underlying tone of understanding.
Seeing as I was working hard—when I wasn’t a menace, that is—saving up to get out of this hellhole, away from my father who made me feel like shit more times than not, I kept pushing through the thick bullshit. But then I’d think about leaving Catherine and something inside of me would tighten painfully. I didn’t want to leave her, and how fucking crazy was that?
My stepsister, the girl I’d lusted after for the past two years, the person I’d never even told how I felt.
The girl I’d fallen in love with.
Shit.
I ran my hand over the back of my head and gave her a sheepish smile, not wanting to drag her into the mess that was my life.
“You have plans tonight?” she asked and smiled, taking a few steps toward me. I felt my body tighten at her close proximity, her sweet scent not being masked by the chlorine from the swimming pool.
“Aside from getting into mayhem or doing something illegal?” I gave her a lopsided grin and she chuckled softly.
“Yeah, aside from those things.” We stood there for a moment, not speaking, both of us smiling, the air lightening. She made me feel better, made the darkness that I had growing inside of me break down enough that her light could come through. As lame and clichéd as it sounded, that was the goddamn truth.
“Rico Barre is throwing a party tonight and although I’m sure you heard about it, I wanted to know if you’d like to go with me, you know, keep me company, be my wingman?”
I wanted so much to tell her that I secretly loved her, that I was dragging my feet on leaving this fucking town because of her. But she was so fucking smart, had a future ahead of herself. I, on the other hand, would probably be working at some garage as a grease monkey for the foreseeable future, and maybe doing some less than favorable things on the side to make ends meet.
“A party might be the last place I need to go.” I chuckled humorlessly. Parties and I didn’t exactly get along, mainly because there was always some drunken asshole who grew balls of steel with a little liquid courage. I usually found myself caught up in defending someone that shouldn’t have needed defending. But I wouldn’t sit back and let some prick start shit with someone they deemed lesser than them, or assaulting a woman because they thought she wanted it.
No, I wasn’t that kind of guy, and I didn’t give a shit if they labeled me a bad boy troublemaker because I’d beat anyone’s ass who rubbed me the wrong way. Which was normally what happened and why I was in this particular situation.
And as I stared at Catherine, I thought about her at that party, some drunken bastard rubbing up on her, claiming she wanted something she didn’t.
I curled my hands into tight fists at my side and exhaled slowly. Although I shouldn’t go to the party, I was going to because Catherine would be there. I’d be her shadow, keep her right by my side.
And if anyone wanted to mess with her they’d have to go through me first.
Chapter Two
Catherine
I didn’t know why I had asked Sutton to come with me to this party. I knew it was a testosterone free-for-all at these things, what with everyone drinking and partying, and with Sutton’s reputation for putting people in their place going strong. Not to mention all the shit going on with his father and their strained relationship.
Selfishly, I cared more about spending as much time with him as I could, rather than wanting to get his mind off everything else.
Because what I felt for him, that secret longing, that intense emotion, was eating me up and I knew I couldn’t keep it inside any longer.
We headed inside the house where the party was already in full swing. It was crammed with people, the music loud and vibrating the very walls. The house was out in the country, off the main road and situated on five acres. Rico’s parents, who were the owners, were currently away on a business trip. That meant a party that had all of the recently graduated upperclassman, as well as some of the sophomores and a handful of freshman in attendance.
Underage drinking wasn’t too uncommon where we lived, since it was more a ‘drive your tractor to school during spirit week’ kind of town.
We were currently in a strange limbo between high school and college, those few months where you sucked up as much social time with your friends as you could before you went off and started your adult life.
The crowd was thick, pushing into us like a wave in the ocean. I bumped into Sutton’s side, and he wrapped his arm around my shoulder, pulling me in closer. I felt chills from that touch, his hand so big, so masculine, curled around my upper arm, no doubt his fingers able to touch for how small I was in comparison. I felt very feminine compared to him. At six-foot-three he towered over many of the guys we went to school with, and if that didn’t make all the girls melt I didn’t know what would.
I tipped my head back and looked up at Sutton, his short dark hair slightly disheveled, as if he’d run his fingers through it. He looked so masculine, older than his eighteen years. With his tall stature and muscular build, he was all man.
And I sure as hell felt feminine when I was with him.
He led us into the kitchen where I could see a couple kegs set up. A bunch of the jocks were
standing around, red plastic cups littered on the counters and overflowing the trashcan. Out back there was a swimming pool, the lights focused on the scantily-clad girls sitting on the edge, giggling to each other and being painfully obvious as they checked out the guys.
I was pushed and shoved inadvertently by the crowd, and Sutton reached out and took my hand in his, keeping us tethered together.
“Fucking watch it,” he shouted to the guys butting into me. They muttered their drunken, slurred apologies before swerving off into the living room.
Sutton was my stepbrother, had been like family for the past two years, but the truth was I didn’t see him as any of that. My feelings for him had grown from curiosity, affection and desire, to full-blown love. In those two years since I’d moved into his home, our family combining as one, my desire for him had gone from teenage lust to intense love.
Never had I felt anything like this for another person, never even thought I could feel such strong emotions for someone. But as I looked at Sutton and felt butterflies in my stomach, felt my heart racing and my palms sweating, I knew that not having him close was its own kind of torment. That eventually I would have to be honest with him and myself, or risk losing what we could have altogether.
And that time was tonight, hence the party vibe where alcohol would give me the courage I needed to be honest.
He grabbed us two beers, the foam going to the top of the red plastic cups. A few of his friends started talking to him, stuff I had no clue about: suspensions, chassis, carburetors and other car-related lingo that went in one ear and out the other. I wasn’t an idiot when it came to some vehicle things, but they talked about it as if they had degrees, as if it were a science.
