She frowns when she opens the door to her room. A Norah Jones record plays in the background and there’s papers and books strewn across her bed.
See what I mean? It’s a fucking blazing hot Saturday afternoon during the last summer before she goes and works herself to the bone at college in New York. She’s got the house to herself or at least parent-free, and she’s studying.
I mean give me a fuckin’ break.
“What,” She says, scowling at me.
“Wanna come for a dip?”
She wrinkles her nose; “With you?”
I roll my eyes; “No, with the guy standing behind me. Yes, with me.”
“Then no.”
I shoot her a look; “So are you gonna spend the whole summer not going in the giant ass pool in your own backyard?”
Paige sighs, like I’m wasting her time; “I hate swimming; not my thing.”
I smirk; sure; “No you don’t.”
“I do too,” She says, huffing at me and her cheeks getting that adorable shade of pink they get when she’s mad or embarrassed. I can’t stop my eyes from dropping to the freckles on her collarbone under her tank-top, and the swell of her breasts further down.
“Oh, so you’ve just got that swimming trophy over there on your bureau for like, decorative purposes?” She cringes a little as her face goes dark red; “Is that like an aesthetic or something you’re going for?” I’m grinning when she finally looks back up at me and makes a face; “Well, suit yourself princess. You know where to find me.”
*****
I’m lounging in the shallow end, smoking cigarettes and drinking a beer when I hear the door to the patio open behind me. I whirl, dipping the beer beneath the edge of the pool on instinct, but then I practically drop the cigarette from my lips.
It’s Paige. She’s wearing this one-piece bathing suit, but what a one-piece. She’s standing there looking awkward and twisting a towel around in her hands, but damn does that girl rock the shit out of that piece of lyrca. The thing hugs every curve, slipping high over her hips and tight across her tits in a way that has me suddenly glad my lap is under the water right now.
“What?”
I blink and drag my eyes away from her perfect body up to her eyes, which are frowning, per usual; “Huh?”
“You’re staring.”
I shrug; “You look fuckin’ hot.”
Paige’s face goes dark red and she starts to turn back for the door.
“Oh c’mon!” I laugh; “Stay, I’ll be good, I promise.”
She turns and shoots me this skeptical look like she doesn't believe me
She shouldn't.
“Beer?” I hold a can her way as she slinks down the steps into the water.
“Um, no? Hello? We’re eighteen?”
“Suit yourself,” I shrug, cracking a fresh one.
Paige stands in the middle of the pool, eyeing me and watching me drink from the can; “Ok, fine,” She finally says, shaking her head; “Give me one.”
I laugh; “You sure you can handle it?”
“I can handle it just fine, thank you very much.”
Right, like princess honor-roll, debate-team, model-U.N. is some sort of seasoned drinker.
But she cracks the beer none-the-less, and even takes a seat on the submerged bench on the side of the pool next to me. And somehow, after that it’s just normal. I’m not trying to needle under her skin, she’s not being frosty to me, and we’re just two teenagers doing what teenagers do in the summer. We’re cracking jokes about terrible pop-songs, I’m telling her about bikes, and she’s explaining traditional counterpoint in classical music to me, even if it is basically Martian to my ears.
The sun starts to dip low in the afternoon, and as we just sit there, getting closer and having fun, I realize that I’m honestly having the best time I’ve had since mom moved us into chez-Joseph.
And of course, that has pretty much everything to do with the girl sitting next to me; her long red hair pulled back in a ponytail, her blue eyes twinkling, the freckles across her nose looking adorable, and her perfect pink lips pulled back in a wide grin as she laughs at something I say.
She laughs again, and the movement has her throwing her head back and suddenly her knee is touching mine like some sort of electric spark through the water. I’m still grinning at her, but I’m frozen inside; every single synapse inside my head focused on the point where our skin touches. Her knee is smooth, and warm, and the place where we touch like that feels this buzzing sensation that slowly creeps through my whole body. And I’m waiting for her to pull back; to realize what her knee is against and move it away.
But she doesn’t.
Bad idea; real bad fucking idea.
But all I can think about is the smoothness of that skin against mine. All I can think about is that heat building there, as if that one-inch patch of skin is a match being held against a powder-keg ready to blow.
She smiles again as she looks up at me and pushes a lock of her hair behind her ear, as if she’s totally oblivious of the effect that small touch is having on me. But that one little motion of tucking her hair back like that is the final straw for me, and I just go for it.
I drop my hand down to her knee - to both our knees, really - and just let it sit there. She freezes for a moment, stiffening slightly, but she’s not moving away, and instead she just casually takes a sip of her beer.
“So, put any more thought into what you’re doing this fall?”
My mind is firing off lightning flashes and fireworks all while I try and play it totally cool that I’m sitting so close next to this girl that we’re touching, and my hand is on her knee; “Um, no, not really.”
She rolls her eyes; “I mean, you should really think about it. You don’t want to stay here, do you?”
Jesus, does she not realize where my hand is?
“Hah, yeah, no way,” I say evenly, trying to get my head back into the game. I’m losing my cool here, and the fact that she’s so seemingly oblivious to the raging need to touch her roaring through my veins has me tripping over my words even more.
I move my hand fully off my own knee and onto hers, and still, nothing.
“I mean you hate it here now, can you even imagine how much less fun you’ll have when I’m in New York?”
Is she flirting? Is this sheltered book-nerd Paige’s way of flirting?
‘Cause, it’s working.
My cock is like an iron bar in my suit, and I’m thankful again for the refractive nature of the water around us. I mean, touching Paige’s knee is one thing; doing it with her noticing my cock tearing a hole through my shorts is another thing altogether.
She takes another sip of her beer, and this time when she turns to me and smiles, her tongue darts out to catch a drip of beer on her lips, and I practically groan out loud.
Fuck it.
My hand moves before I can even overthink it; slipping slowly up the smoothness of her thigh. Her eyes go wide for a second, but they never move from mine as she slowly bites at her lip, staring right into my eyes. I start to lean forward, my hand slowly rubbing that creamy smooth skin halfway up her thigh, and suddenly, the entire mood of the afternoon shifts.
We’re no longer dancing around the tension; no longer covering flirting with casual banter. No, we’ve moved into high-gear here.
“So, you’ve never done anything, have you.” I say lowly, leaning closer to her and watching her breath catch as her chest hitches.
“That’s none of your business,” She says quietly.
“I’m making it my business.”
Her eyes grow even wider, and sucks at her bottom lip as she slowly shakes head.
“How about kissing?”
She rolls eyes; “Of course I’ve kissed.”
“Uh no, princess, I mean really been kissed.”
“Of course I have.”
“I doubt it,” I say lowly, my eyes locked on those pouty lips she’s chewing; “Not a real kiss.”
&
nbsp; “Yes I have,” She whispers, her eyes darting around my face.
“Liar.”
And then I kiss her.
And it’s not just some kiss, it’s a fucking KISS. I press my lips to hers, and my head reels at the feel of the pillowy-softness of them as she latches her mouth to mine. I press against her harder, searing my lips against hers, feeling her tremble. And when she pushes back into the kiss, pressing her lips softly and firmly to mine and moaning into them, it’s like letting the throttle go wide on bike as I’m roaring down a highway.
There’s a roaring in my ears as my free hand goes up to her neck, into her hair, grabbing her and pulling her close. Paige whimpers into me and as I open my mouth, her tongue slides out and meets mine.
I'm lost in this; like holy shit type lost. I’m off balance, spinning out of control, and it’s all because of those lips and that whimper, and the girl they belong to who’s actually kissing me back. I’m pushing every thought about how not cool this is out of my head as I pull her to me, groaning into the heaven of her lips. This isn’t something illicit or something “wrong” anymore in that moment, and Paige isn’t my “soon-to-be stepsister” or anything weird like that. She’s just a girl, and I’m just a guy, and this kiss is fucking perfect.
We’re getting into it then, tongues curling and twisting against the others as we moan into each other. Her hand comes up to my cheek, her fingers grazing across my jawline, and it like stoking the fire. I push the hand on her thigh higher, tracing lightly over her skin beneath the pool’s water. She whimpers into me, and I growl into her and push it even higher up her leg; higher until I’m touching the place right there in the crook of her thigh where her suit meets her skin. She trembles, and I’m seeing stars as I feel the heat of her there and start to move my fingers against that seam-
And then there’s the sound of a car in driveway and that’s when the moment just shatters like glass.
Paige pulls away with loud gasp, her eyes wide and full of fear; “Oh-my-God, oh-my-God, oh-my-God-”
“Paige-”
“Oh my GOD!” And then she’s jumping - no, leaping - out of the pool and away from me; “Hide those!” She hisses a the empty beer cans.
“Paige, will you just-”
She whirls and runs into the house, slamming the patio door behind her and leaving me alone with my empty beer cans, my stormy thoughts, and a raging case of blue balls.
Well, fuck.
I can feel my heart hammering in my throat as I dash up the back staircase. Downstairs, I can hear my father and Amanda laughing and talking loudly as they come in through the front door, but it’s almost muffled with the roar of my own pulse thudding in my ears.
Holy shit, holy shit, holy shit.
I kissed Knox; and what a kiss.
“Of course I’ve kissed.”
“Uh-uh, no, princess, I mean really been kissed.”
“Of course I have.”
He was right, of course. I’ve never in my life been kissed the way Knox just seared that one across my lips. I’ve never even conceived of a kiss being like that. It’s hotter than any scene I’ve ever seen in a movie or read in the pages of a romance book; so hot in fact that I can still feel my head swimming as I slam the door shut to my room and lean heavily against it. And it’s not from the four sips of beer I had, I know that.
I’m panting for breath, and it’s not just from running up the stairs either. Because in my head, I’m still there. I’m still sitting in that pool with Knox’s hand on my leg, touching me there, while his tongue explores mine and shows me things I’d only dreamed about. Oh my God, how did I let that happen?
Because you wanted it, that’s why, dummy.
I could have pushed him away, I know that. Knox is bigger and stronger than me, and cocky and arrogant, but he’s no predator or anything. If I’d said no, or told him to stop, I know he would have.
Except I didn’t; I didn’t even think about stopping him.
I can hear Amanda laughing at something my father says downstairs, I’m quickly locking my door and running to the bathroom to rinse the four sips of beer from my mouth with mouthwash. I look up from the sink, catching myself in the mirror, and I know there’s just no denying the glow I can see there in my face. It’s not a blush either, though that of course comes the second I notice it; it’s a glow. A buzzing, electric sort of vibrancy in my eyes; eyes that have been opened to something entirely new.
I shake my head and splash water on my face as I start to yank my bathing suit off. It’s not like I can’t have been swimming with Knox, and it’s not like anyone would assume I was out there making out with my stepbrother, but I’d just as soon not give anyone any ideas about me feeling anything short of indifference to Knox.
I’m hanging my suit up in the tub and grabbing a towel when the door to Knox’s room suddenly flies open, and I gasp. I whirl, clutching the towel in front of me as my eyes go wide at the sight of him. He’s still wet from the pool, water droplets dripping down his muscled chest and abs, his swimsuit clinging wetly to every inch of him, and a look of pure fire in his eyes. Smoldering, that’s what they call it. He’s looking at me like his eyes could sear me to the floor right there.
“Knox!” I hiss, “Get out of-”
He crossed the room in three steps, and I’m gasping as I step back quickly into the shower door, the glass cold against my bare back. He’s right in front of me, eyes burning into me, lips inches from mine, and his hands on either side of me flat against the door behind me.
“Knox, what are you-”
And then he kisses me again, and I’m right back there in the pool, right back in that moment. I’m forgetting everything around us and falling right back into him, moaning into his kiss and pressing my lips to his.
“Paige! Knox! Guys, we’re going out for dinner in a little bit!”
The sound of my father’s voice from downstairs has me jolting back into reality, and I’m suddenly breaking the steam of that kiss and pushing him away; “No, we- we-” I’m stammering; “Just stop it.”
“Not a chance, princess,” He growls; “Not this time.” His voice is hot in my ear, and I all but whimper as I feel his body press against mine.
I can’t look at him. I can’t look up into those eyes or I’ll be lost, and there’s no telling what I won’t be able to say no to, right here and right now.
“Paige,” He growls; “Look at me.”
I shake my head.
“Just look at me.”
Slowly, biting my bottom lip between my teeth, I drag my eyes up to his.
Oh, fuck.
And right then, I know I’ve got no defenses left.
He kisses me again, hungrily, and this time I’m melting right into him. I’m clutching the towel to my bare body tightly with one hand while the other trails up his arm to his shoulder, pulling him into me. He moans against me, his arms dropping to the bare skin of my thighs, making me shiver with nervous anticipation as I feel someone else’s hands on a part of my body for the first time. I might be holding the towel against myself, but that doesn’t stop his hand from moving up.
Crude: A Stepbrother Romance Page 7
