Jai’s grin widens. “You like hot dogs, too?”
“I don’t eat hot dogs,” Jess says, shuddering. “So I don’t have a comment about that.”
“Oh, well, Emma loves hot dogs,” Mom says.
Jai snorts with laughter and tries to cover it up by pretending it was a cough.
“She always has,” Mom muses. “And sweetie, if you want to eat your hot dogs with ketchup and mustard, and if you want to have your coffee with cream, then by all means, go right ahead.”
“I’ll have to make sure to get some hot dogs for our cookout later on,” Zack says. “I didn’t know you were such a fan, Emma. I did get sausages.”
“I reckon she probably likes sausages even more,” Jai says. “Since they’re bigger and all.”
My jaw drops as everyone laughs, like this is the funniest thing they’ve ever heard. But no one seems to think that it’s strange or completely inappropriate, him saying something like this.
I find that I can’t actually eat anything, but to keep myself distracted I push the food around my plate. I try not to look at Jai, try not to even see him out of the corner of my eye, but he’s right there next to me, eating his eggs, drinking his coffee, an affable smile on his face.
“So,” Mom says. “I think we’re all going to have a really nice time here. It’s beautiful, isn’t it?”
Jessica and I murmur our agreement. Zack beams.
“This place has always been a respite of sorts,” he says. “And I’m so happy that I can share it with you. And I’m so happy that my son has made the voyage across the pond to be here with us, too.”
“Why, I almost feel like next you’re going to tell us to all join hands and sing Kumbaya or something,” Jai says. He’s totally joking, but my mother’s eyes widen as she grins.
“Why that’s a lovely idea!” she says. She puts her fork down. “We don’t necessarily have to sing—though if anyone feels so inspired, by all means—but yes, I would like us to all hold hands for a moment.” She spreads her arms, offering one hand to me, one to my sister.
“Uh, Mom?” Jess says.
“Are you serious?” I look at my mother’s outstretched palm. She gives me an encouraging nod.
“Yes, girls, I am serious. Why don’t you just humor your mother and do this? Jess, if you just slide over a little, you’ll be able to reach Zack’s other hand, and Emma, you and Jai don’t need to move at all—”
“Here, I’ll slide a little closer,” Jai says, and he sidles his chair over so it’s right against mine. “Let’s make it as easy for her as we can, right Stephanie?” I turn my head to look at him, right in time to see him give my mom a look that says, God, she’s difficult, isn’t she?
“Fine,” I say. I take my mother’s hand, and Jai reaches for my other one, and then we sit there, five grown ups, holding hands. I expect that someone’s going to say something, but no one does. My insides start to squirm a bit, from the sheer ridiculousness of it. Across the table, Jessica’s expression mirrors my own, though she’s also trying to bite back a smile. Jai slips one finger around to my inner wrist and starts tracing light circles.
“Okay,” Mom says, after what feels like forever. She lets go of my hand. Jai holds on a few seconds longer, but I pull away. He lets his arm fall, and when his hand lands on my thigh, he keeps it there. “Thank you, everyone, for indulging me. That was nice.”
They go back to eating; Jai too, but his hand remains, inching higher and higher until his thumb is resting in my thigh crease. He presses on that sensitive muscle and I feel a twinge, though I manage to stay in my seat, face impassive.
And somehow, his hand remains there for the rest of the meal, and no one has any clue. Not that I would want them to know, but it just seems so ironic, the way my mother keeps going on about us getting to know each other better, spending quality time bonding. When the meal is finally over, I want nothing more than a shower and a chance to try to figure out what the hell I’m doing. I can’t spend the next two weeks like this, him feeling me up at the breakfast table, us having sex in the bathroom, knowing that we’re going to be stepsiblings.
I escape upstairs and hope that Jai will stay down there with everyone else and shoot the shit, but no such luck. There’s a gentle knock at the door.
“Come in,” I say, knowing exactly who it will be.
“Breakfast was quite nice, wasn’t it?” he says, stepping into the room, partially closing the door behind him. “Though I couldn’t help but notice that you didn’t eat that much. I would’ve figured you’d be ravenous.”
I stand there facing him, arms folded across my chest. I don’t have a bra on and even though the t-shirt is baggy enough to leave most things up to the imagination, I am suddenly aware of the fabric against my nipples and of the strong desire I have for him to touch them. I take a deep breath. “Jai, listen to me. We can’t do this anymore. Anyone could’ve walked in and seen us last night, do you realize that? Do you know how fucked up things will get if someone finds out? We have got to stop. And that whole thing at breakfast.”
“I know—that hand-holding really was something. Though I do think we should’ve sung Kumbaya. Really would’ve rounded out the moment.”
“I’m not talking about that. Well, maybe a little, it was weird, but that’s just my mom. Who’s going to be your stepmom. Which means we’re going to be stepsiblings. Why does that not bother you? Why do you think it’s still okay for us to be having sex?”
He gives me an amused look. “I really am starting to believe that this verbal resistance of yours really is your favorite form of foreplay. It’s a bit unorthodox, I admit, but I like it.”
“It isn’t anything except me trying not to engage in incest. Which might seem a bit unorthodox to you, but is actually something I strive to stay away from. And considering, up until now, I’ve only ever had a sister and I’m not a lesbian, it hasn’t been that difficult.”
“Well, I’m thrilled to hear that. And nothing has to get difficult, if you don’t want it to. But I’ve got this growing suspicion that you might actually like things to be difficult, at least a little bit. Because it presents a challenge or something. I think you like the idea of part of you pretending that you’re completely aghast at the fact that we have sex—and, might I add, really fucking great sex—and you think it’s something you shouldn’t be doing. But then there’s this whole other part of you who is completely thrilled and turned on by the fact that you’ve found someone who knows how to give it you just the way you want it.”
He keeps talking, and I struggle to remain impassive, because what he’s saying is absolutely true. And how infuriating is it to have someone tell you the truth about yourself, especially when you’ve been actively trying to deny it?
But I’m not going to let him know this, just like I’m not going to let him know that just hearing him say he knows how to give it to me is majorly turning me on. It would be so easy to reach out and grab him, throw myself into his arms, wrap my legs around his waist, kiss him all over. He would be totally delighted by that, I know it.
“I have a question,” I interrupt.
“By all means,” he says.
“What would you do if I ripped those pants of yours off and got down on my knees and gave you a blow job right here, right in your beloved childhood lake house? With the chance that any one of our poor, unsuspecting family members could walk by?”
“Now this is more in line with what I’m talking about. What would I do? Well, let’s see. I’d congratulate myself at being one of the luckiest blokes alive to have a beautiful girl dominate my cock like that. It’s every guy’s fantasy, you know, I don’t care how macho they are—every guy would like his cock to be dominated by a gorgeous woman at some point or another. I’d have you look up at me. Not the entire time, because that’s creepy, but I’d like to look down at you, have our gazes lock, and see the way your mouth is full of my cock. I’d let you blow me for as long as you wanted. We could maybe even make a contes
t out of it—who’s going to give out first? My cock or your mouth? I’d let you think perhaps you were going to win, but that simply wouldn’t be the case. So then I’d bend you over the ottoman right there, I’d marvel at your beautiful arse before I slid my cock into your fanny, which will be—”
“Uh, hold up,” I say. “There will be no cock-sliding into any fanny, especially not mine. My ex-boyfriend tried to whole anal sex bit with me and it was probably the most painful experience ever.”
Jai smiles. “You’re not familiar with many British colloquialisms, are you?”
“No, but I know that fanny is your rear.”
“In America, yes, in Britain, no. Fanny is the same as pussy. Which makes the whole concept of your American fanny packs pretty amusing.”
“That is so completely besides the point. I don’t even know why I brought that up, the part about the blow job.”
“I know why. Because you’re horny as hell and you really want to do it, despite the fact that we’re going to be stepsiblings.”
“No, I don’t. I guess I brought it up because I wanted to prove to myself that I don’t want to do it, and that we’re not going to do it. No more sexual contact between us, okay? I really mean it. And if you respect me—as a person, as a woman, as your soon-to-be-stepsister—then you’ll stop trying to get into my pants.”
“Your knickers.”
“Whatever.”
He rubs a hand across the lower part of his face. “Ah, Emma. We are both adults, are we not? And we’re not doing anything wrong. We’re really not. You’re being a bit silly, if you want to know the truth. Let’s just say our parents weren’t getting married. Then what? Would that change the way you’re feeling?”
“Of course it would!” I snap. “If our parents weren’t getting married, then we wouldn’t be stepsiblings. That’s the problem that I have here. That you, for whatever reason, seem totally fine with. You don’t think there’s anything wrong with this?”
“I think you’re being rather uptight. I’d say you just need to get laid, but . . .”
“But nothing. If we can’t be around each other without wanting to engage in some sexual activity, then we’re just going to have to avoid each other, all right? Really. We’re being selfish. Our parents are getting married—they should be the ones running around having sex. Not that I want to be thinking about that.”
“You didn’t hear them last night?”
“Ew, no.”
Jai takes a few steps toward me. “Put your arms down,” he says.
“No. I mean it, Jai, I’m not doing this anymore.”
He takes another step, closing the distance between us. He puts his hands on my upper arms.
“I wish you knew how gorgeous you were,” he says. “Every inch of you. And you know what? That’s the first thing I thought when I saw you at Chateau Marmont. Seems like a long time ago now, doesn’t it?”
I wriggle free from his grasp. “Look, as nice as it would be to take a walk down memory lane, I’m not going to let you try to make me feel bad about the fact that I don’t think we should be having sex anymore.”
“You don’t think that it’s really something of a coincidence that, of all the people out there online, you would end up contacting me?”
“Who cares? And really—a sign for what? If I hadn’t contacted you—actually, it was Megan who set the whole thing up—if that hadn’t happened, I would’ve met you in person at dinner. We still would’ve ended up meeting. So I don’t think it actually means anything. You’re totally grasping at straws.”
“Okay then.” He holds his hands up, the universal gesture of defeat. “If that is how you feel, okay.”
Part of me is relieved that he’s finally hearing my words, but there’s a small part of me that’s disappointed. I can’t tell if it’s disappointment in myself, at the fact that he’s accepting this, or that the best sex I’ve ever had has wound up being with my future stepsibling.
“Well . . . thank you,” I say. “It means a lot to me that you’re hearing what I’m saying and you’re going to respect it. And if it would be better for us to just sort of, you know, stay apart for a little while, then I’m willing to do that.”
“You mean avoid each other so we don’t end up shagging?”
“Yes, if you must put it that way. I’m just saying, it might be better to do it that way at first. Not like we can never be in the same room together or anything like that, but maybe at first it would be good if we just steer clear of each other.”
“Because you find me so irresistible you just can’t keep your hands off me.”
I roll my eyes. “Well, I’m certainly not turned on by over confident self absorbed assholes, so if you keep this up, we won’t have to worry about avoiding each other for the next couple of days.”
“Aw, come on, Emma, I’m just joking around. It’s what I do when I’m being told something I don’t really want to hear.”
“I’m sorry, Jai. I really am. But I think this is for the best.”
“All right,” he says. “I’ll give you your space.”
He gives me a rueful smile and then turns and leaves. He doesn’t even try to kiss me. Which is good, because it means he heard everything I just said, but I still can’t help but feel disappointed, too.
Chapter Fifteen
Jai
Over the course of the next two days, I do believe I’ve spent more time with my father than I have in the past two decades. There’s been golf, a trip around the lake on his boat, sitting around drinking beer—mostly the sort of activities that are conducive to lengthy conversations, which is something Dad and I usually do not partake in. But I indulge him, especially because Emma is still avoiding me. Three days after that little chat we had and the most we’ve said to each other is “Good morning” and “Would you pass the relish?” I figured she would’ve relented by now, but no, she seems firmly committed to this idea of us never hooking up again. She and her sister spend a lot of time with Stephanie, sunning themselves by the lake or the pool, drinking wine coolers, laughing about who knows what. Whenever I go down there, Stephanie and Jessica are charming and friendly; Emma ignores me. The first couple times it was a bit of a turn on, but now it’s just getting irritating.
So when I hear they’re all going out on Dad’s boat for the afternoon, I manage to beg off it and get Dad to let me borrow his car. I hate driving and I especially hate driving in L.A., but that should tell you how much I don’t want to be out on the lake with Emma so she can ignore me the entire time.
I don’t have much of a plan; I just decide to get in the car and go. Mum phones just as I’m starting the car, so I kill the engine and have a chat with her.
“You caught me right as I was about to drive straight into the seventh level of hell,” I say. “Otherwise known as the L.A. freeways.”
“Do be careful,” she says, and I can hear the shudder in her voice. “I assume your father let you borrow his car?”
“He did. I’ve been a good bloke the past couple days and have done everything he’s wanted me to. He probably figures he owes me.”
“Are you enjoying yourself? How’s the house?”
“It’s good. About the same as I remember it, I guess. The lake isn’t totally polluted yet, either, which I suppose is a minor miracle, this being L.A. and all.”
Mum laughs. “You know, I can’t help but wonder sometimes if your total disdain for that place is learned or genetic.”
I consider this. “Both, probably.”
“Well, I just wanted to check in with you. I’m glad to hear that you’re having a nice time. Oh, and you’ll never guess who I ran into the other day.”
“Who?”
“You don’t want to guess?”
I run through a mental Rolodex. “I have no clue, Mum.”
“Kate Brown.”
“Oh,yeah? How is Katie?”
“She’s good. She looks great. We had a nice chat. It was a little strange, though, at one poi
nt, because she said she’d just seen you.”
“Just seen me? No, I don’t think so. I can’t remember the last time I saw Kate.”
“Oh, well. Perhaps I misunderstood her. Either way, it was lovely to see her and I told her I’d tell her we’d spoken next time I talked to you.”
Kate Brown is one of those people the general public has seen in movies and TV shows on numerous occasions, yet they just don’t realize it. She’s a stunt double and I met her years ago when my dad was filming a movie in Newmarket about horse racing. This was an action thriller type movie, though, so it also involved high speed car chases, moto-x, and I believe someone was also supposed to jump out of a helicopter. I was just a young teen when this all happened, and completely in awe when I got to visit my dad on the set one day and meet Kate, who is hot as hell and can do all sorts of crazy shit, like back flips and jumping off of roofs or from very high cliffs, or wheelie a motorcycle for fifty yards. Totally normal. I was more than a bit enamored, you could say, but it didn’t matter how much I was interested in her. She had zero interest in me. At least like that, anyway. Guys weren’t her thing, and she wasn’t just saying that. But she treated me like a kid brother and my dad treated her like the daughter he never had. Once every four or five years or so we’d run into each other, and it was so easy to just pick up where we left off, like resuming a conversation.
“I’ll be sure to tell Dad that you saw her,” I say. “He’ll be thrilled to hear it. Anyway, Mum, I’m going to head out now—I’ve just been sitting in the driveway—so I’ll give you a ring after the wedding. And I’ll be home not long after that. I’ll go get you a souvenir right now, how about that?”
She laughs. “You drive safely, now. Remember—it’s the right side of the road.”
“And green means go and red means stop? And yellow also means go?”
“Okay, now you’re making me nervous. I’m getting off the phone.”
“All right, Mum. I will drive safely. Talk to you soon.”
Side Swiped By My Step Brother Page 10
