Stepbrother The Hard Trainer: A Stepbrother Romance Book Collection

by Anna Restrepo

  Today had been a dream, I was almost convinced it hadn’t happened.

  For years I'd imagined what it might feel like to hold Emily's naked body in my arms, to feel what it would be like to hear the soft cries of her passion, to feel her body quiver as she reached the pinnacle of pleasure.

  I wanted to pinch myself, to make sure that I hadn't imagined the entire thing.

  It'd been better than my most vivid fantasy and her body had been even more perfect than I could've imagined. Her skin was softer beneath my hands than even the highest thread count sheets I'd ever touched. Holding her was like holding a warm, flawless cloud against me. I wanted to vanish inside her, to bury my face in her breast and never have to leave.

  Rubbing sleep form my eyes, I turned over onto my side and slid my palm over the cool blankets, seeking out the warmth of Emily's beautiful body.

  Instead however, my fingers brushed the cool silk of the empty pillow. I patted down the sheet, but there was no one else in the bed beside me.

  She was gone.

  I snapped up to my knees on the bed, scanning the empty room and listening intently for the sound of the faucet or shower running in the bathroom, but every light was out and the room was eclipsed in dark, still quiet.

  "Em?" I called quietly, slipping from the bed, but she did not respond.

  Had I imagined it all?

  Had our time together been nothing more than a fever dream induced by lack of sleep and muscle fatigue?

  It wouldn't have surprised me.

  Even fifteen years after leaving her, I still dreamed almost daily about the curve of her pink lips and the way her chest rose with every breath she took. Those dreams were always so vivid and real that I woke almost expecting her to be laying overtop me, porcelain thighs straddling my hips.

  For once, I’d been sure that dream had become a reality.

  No other experience would ever compare. There would be no one in the world that could ever match the intense pleasure that Emily gave me.

  It was more than just a physical pleasure, it was more than just a one-night stand, it was a pleasure now deep rooted in my soul. She’d exposed me to something that I never felt within me, something I wasn’t sure that I could ever be able to find with another woman. I couldn’t even imagine ever being with another woman now, I was consumed by only her.

  It'd been better than anything else in my entire life. Better than any touchdown I'd made or pass I'd blocked. There would be nothing else that would ever even begin to reach this pinnacle.

  As I walked across the room, my toe caught on a tiny pink sock that was definitely not my own. I bent down, picking it up and inspecting it. It certainly wasn't Cynthia's either, she never wore socks or shoes that would require such a middle-class object to tarnish her sophisticated flesh. She only ever wore some various brand of thousand-dollar stilettos. I'd gifted her most of those shoes and clothes and diamond crusted accessories. The more presents I gave Cynthia, the less I had to interact with her. It would shut her up, making her beam with joy.

  It wasn’t like it was difficult to buy her things. I didn't even have to think about it. I'd just point to the most sparkly, or most large, or most expensive thing on the shelf. I couldn't even remember the last few things I’d bought for her, I'd spent so little time on the task. I'd even gotten Lucas to pick out the gifts on more than one occasion when I was playing an especially grueling level of Candy Crush on my phone. Now that Cynthia was out of my life, I would never have to buy another one of those overly gaudy gifts again.

  I ran my finger over a smudge of paint on the ankle of the sock.

  It was definitely my stepsister’s.

  At least I knew for sure that she'd been here, that she'd graced my room and my bed and my body. I could still feel her nails digging into my back as she arched against me and moaned my name with that beautiful voice of hers. She was addicting, heart and soul. I needed her again and again.

  Why had she decided to leave without saying anything?

  Did she regret our time together? Did she regret the way we'd clung to one another and rocked together in ecstasy?

  My heart ached at the thought, going still and hard as a rock inside my chest. If I had hurt her in anyway, or convinced her to do something that she didn't want to, it would kill me. I'd run to keep Emily happy, I'd kept that enormous secret inside of me to keep Emily happy... I would do anything to make sure that was the case.

  I'd leave town this second and never come back if that was what I had to do.

  She deserved nothing but the best, even as a teenager I knew that, and I knew that to have the best I would have to be out of the picture. I couldn't be there constantly pining for her and trying to conceal it. It'd only be a matter of time before I did something that I would regret.

  I'd only been standing in front of her for minutes when I revealed my feelings for her... Maybe it had all been too much. Maybe I had driven her away.

  She’d come to find her brother, after all, not a lover. When she raced toward the security guards she thought she would have a joyous reconciliation with a long-lost family member, she hadn't expected that long lost family member to reveal their love for her.

  I couldn't blame Emily in the slightest for wanting to get away from the heaviness that would follow our night together. If that one day was all that I would ever have with Emily, I would gladly accept it.

  Frowning, I let the sock slide from my fingers and looked toward the clock on the desk.

  11:45 PM blinked back in me red, blocky numbers.

  I'd slept all day.

  With a sigh, I took one look at the empty sheets of the notepad beside the bed, hopeful for even a quickly scribbled message from Emily, but she hadn't written anything down.

  I wondered if her handwriting had changed from when she was a teenager. I'd collected scraps of notes just to look at her swirly cursive and heart dotted 'I's.

  Was that going to be the last time I saw her? Had she run down the hall with tears in her beautiful caramel eyes and wished that she could take back the love that we'd shared between my sheets?

  I reached for my phone, wishing that I could call her and make everything all right. Before my fingers could even grace the small device however, I drew my arm back to my side with a shake of my head.

  I had to leave her alone.

  If she really did regret what happened, my insisting on speaking with her would only make things worse.

  It was almost funny, in a depressing sort of way, that it was her who had been vying for us to spend time together and now it was her who was putting distance between us.

  For a long moment, I stared at the cellphone as if I was waiting for it to start ringing and show her now familiar number on the screen. It didn't, however, and I was forced to finally leave it behind when my stomach rumbled and demanded food.

  The hunger didn't reach me, though. It was like everything was numbed except for the disappointment of waking without Emily in my arms and the soft ripples of ecstasy that made goosebumps dance along the muscled lines of my strong arms.

  It was a strange feeling. I wasn't used to feeling so utterly satisfied after laying with a woman.

  It was like Emily was the one person that I’d been waiting for my entire life, the one body that fit perfectly with my own.

  If only she wasn't my stepsister.

  Sighing, I tiredly dragged my shorts back up my hips, eyes lingering on the bedsheets. I wondered if they still smelled like her, if her sweet perfume still clung to the blankets that her body had writhed and tangled in.

  I smoothed my palm over the blanket, then pulled it up to my face and inhaled deeply.

  When I closed my eyes, it was like she was still there. I could see her perfect, naked figure lain out before me like a painting.

  With another cranky rumble of my stomach, I let the sheets fall back on the bed.

  Once I was fully dressed, I didn't pause to even brush my teeth before grabbing my hotel key and my wallet and s
lipping out of the room.

  "There you are."

  I whirled in surprise, turning to face the familiar voice.

  Cynthia stood in front of me, makeup still making tracks down the curve of her cheek and her eyes glistening with a fresh set of tears.

  "I've been looking for you," she offered quietly, her voice so hoarse that it made me pity her.

  I felt bad for Cynthia and her desperation to be loved by one of the men on the team. She would find someone, someday, who treasured her. I was sure. Hopefully she would treasure them as well instead of using them as a stepping stone to get to where she wanted.

  "Cynthia, I'm sorry," I mumbled, crossing my bulky arms over my chest, "It was wrong of me to lead you on these past few months."

  "It was," she responded, jaw setting slightly.

  When she inhaled her breath was shaky, like she'd been sobbing for days even though it'd only been hours.

  I had nothing left to say, however, and all I could do was gaze at her. I knew nothing about Cynthia, I realized, as I watched her. I didn't even know what she liked in bed though we'd slept together multiple times since meeting.

  Emily, though, I could tell anyone what Emily’s favorite painting was, her favorite color, how much she'd loved when I ran my fingertips up her spine to tangle in her hair...

  My body shuddered and Cynthia didn't miss the movement.

  Unlike how little I knew her, Cynthia knew me almost as well as she knew herself.

  She stared at me as though I had stabbed her, lips slowly pursing hard into a thin, glossed line.

  "Is that why you left me? You found someone else?"

  "Cynthia—”

  "No, Jaxon, tell me. Is she younger? Is she prettier?" Tears flooded her eyes as she wrapped her arms around herself.

  I didn't answer, despite the fact that Emily was probably ten years older than Cynthia was, I doubted it would help her feel better.

  She inhaled deeply, then sniffed and gazed at me with her piercing eyes.

  "I didn't come here to yell at you," she finally mumbled, arms still wrapped tight around herself., "I need to tell you something."

  "If you need money to get home, you know I'll help you."

  It was the wrong thing to say, I realized it the instant the words left my lips. Her mouth pursed hard one more time before she gave a sharp shake of her head.

  "No, it's nothing like that..." She paused, trailing off, her shoulders shaking as she squeezed her eyes shut then opened them once more to gaze pleadingly in my direction.

  "Jax," sShe breathed, taking one step then stopping herself, her hands folding tight in front of her chest, "I'm pregnant. I've known for a few weeks. I didn't know how to tell you..."

  Chapter 12

  Emily

  I didn’t normally stay out late.

  I liked to be at home and in my cozy fleece pajamas by the time my favorite TV show started at eight. I would make a cup of soup or put something on for Rick when he got home, and I would curl up on the couch with Ralph and spend the hours of my evening there.

  Today, however, would be the second day in a row that I did not follow my typical routine.

  It was late when I finally pushed open the door to what I once considered my home, at least midnight though I suspected it to be even later than that.

  The door felt foreign under my hand as I slipped the key in the lock and pushed it open before me.

  I'd thought, when Rick and I first moved in together, that this apartment was the start of my forever. That for the rest of my life, I would walk through this door and take a deep breath and bask in the comfort of knowing that I was with the one I love.

  Meeting Jax had forced me to question all of that. He made me question something deeper though. he made me question why I had ever agreed to date Rick to be with him, to live with him.

  Honestly, Rick was what I thought I deserved.

  "Where the hell have you been?" Rick asked angrily as I stepped in the door.

  "Susan, Emily just came home. Thank you," he growled into the phone, hanging up and dropping his cell on the couch.

  Ralph looked at me, head cocked to the side slightly.

  "You called my mom?"

  "Of course I did, I couldn’t find you anywhere. I've called you at least twenty times." He glared at me, face contorted into anger.

  I swallowed, giving a small shake of my head, "I'm sorry for worrying you. I'm fine. I forgot my phone."

  "That doesn't answer my question. Where were you?"

  "Painting." I mumbled with a shrug.

  I wasn't in the mood for these questions. I was ready to be done with Rick, to be done with this life that I had only been pretending to enjoy. it all felt so hollow now, so empty.

  Jaxon had lit a fire inside my soul and I was not about to let anyone extinguish it. I wanted to get back to him, even if it was just for one more night.

  "That's a lie." The anger melted off Rick's face, replaced with the scary shadow of cold suspicion.

  I stepped back slightly toward the door but Rick strode forward and slammed it fully shut, nudging me toward the couch.

  When I hesitated, he grabbed my wrist and dragged me toward it, pushing me so that I was seated on the cushion. A low rumble emerged from Ralph's throat at the rough way that Rick handled me, but one icy glare from the tall man and dog instantly silenced.

  "No, I was just late at the studio, you know how I get sometimes," I gave a slight shrug, staring intently down at my hands.

  I could feel fury radiating from Rick as though he were a furnace, scorching my skin with the flames of his ire. I’d told Jax that I would keep his secret, that I would never tell anyone about what happened between us. I certainly wasn’t going to break that promise to be truthful to Rick.

  "I called the damn studio, Emily."

  I stiffened, spine going straight as a wooden board. My throat felt tight and my skin suddenly went clammy. I couldn't help but to feel like a criminal under one of those bright investigation lamps, I could practically feel the heat on my face.

  "Listen, Rick—"

  "No, you listen to me, Emily. While I was on the phone with them I asked why they had so many classes on weekends all of a sudden, and you know what they told me?"

  He prodded me roughly in the ribs, waiting for me to respond. Instead, I gave a small shake of my head and waited. I could feel a bruise forming under where he had thrust his hand roughly against my skin.

  I deserved his anger. I'd cheated on him. I should have left him first. There was no denying that.

  "They told me they're not open on the weekends. Where the hell have you been going for the last few months? Why have you been lying to me? I don't understand this."

  Hesitantly, I lifted my chin to gaze up at him.

  His cold black eyes churned with disappointment and sadness and rage.

  It was frightening.

  "I've been watching my brother's games,." I whispered.

  "He's not your brother," he snapped, "He's a stepsibling who ran away."

  "Well, I've never missed one of his games. You don't like watching them so I go to other places and I watch them."

  "Where do you?" he glowered, "Do you go to a bar? Do you go there to meet men?"

  I shook my head instantly, almost reaching out to grab at his hand like I normally would have during one of his jealous fits. This time, however, I remembered to keep my hands in my lap. It wasn't my duty to comfort him anymore, not after I finally told him what I wanted to say.

  "I usually go to the coffee shop off Magnolia Drive."

  Rick blinked once, his irate face growing even more so. His cheeks were flushed an angry red, the color of cherry soda or an apple.

  "You certainly weren't there yesterday. I had a business meeting there all morning."

  I opened my mouth then closed, biting my lip as the rage on his face burst like a balloon. He lifted one hand and I almost expected him to hit me, but then he let it fall back to his side.

&nb
sp; "Enough with the lies," he growled.

  "Jaxon is in town. He played at the stadium yesterday. That’s where I was."

  "And all day?"

  "I was with him all day yesterday and today."

  Rick climbed to his feet, hands digging into his pockets as he passed back and forth. He frowned at me the entire time, keeping an eye on me as though he was afraid that I would vanish when he blinked.

  "I'll have to call him and corroborate this." He finally muttered in irritation, "Since clearly I can't trust you at all anymore. You lie and lie and lie, Emily. What am I supposed to do?"

  "Rick, we need to talk," I whispered quietly, hands folding in my lap, "I've just been thinking lately and—"

  His sudden laughter cut me off.

  It wasn't a joyous laugh, like one that you would hear at the circus while a clown does a funny trick. It wasn't the type of laugh that makes you feel warm inside. It was an angry chuckle, one that rippled through him like a fiery plume. It was alarming.

  It boomed out from him like a cackle, echoing against the walls and thudding against my ears. It made my blood run cold.

  "We need to talk?" he growled, whirling to face me.

  Ralph climbed to his feet, keeping a careful eye on the situation.

  "You're really going to tell me that we need to talk, Emily?"

  "Rick, please..."

  He stalked forward, sticking a finger in my face.

  I shrank back from his sudden lurching movements, my back pressing hard against the back of the couch as a lump formed in my throat.

  "Tell me, Em. What do you want to say?"

  "I think... I think we should..." It was so hard to piece the words together when Rick was glowering at me so dangerously. He made me doubt every inch of my resolve.

  Somehow, I had to press through the uncertainty that his furiously glowing eyes infused me with

  "We're not going to work out, Rick." I finally whispered, and it was only then that I realized how intensely I was trembling, “I’m sorry, but we’re over.”

  I was sure Rick could see how much I was shaking as well, feeding off my uncertainty and fear like a beast in the night.