My Stepbrother the Rock Star (Men of Midnight Dreams Book 2)

by Alexandra Ainsworth

  My fists tighten. The thought’s ridiculous. I mean, I don’t even live here, not really, and Ezra—the man’s famous. Contemplating a relationship with him seems ridiculous, delusional, even though I’ve gotten to know the real person some.

  When I return home, I feel unsettled. Dad and Angela are out on a date somewhere, and I make a sandwich and head up to my too-fancy new bedroom.

  Pounding on the door interrupts me. My jaw tightens. Maybe it’s Dad. But he’s too charming to make scenes, and I know that Ezra is going to be on the other side of the door. Even though we spent last night naked in each other’s arms, I don’t think I can bear seeing him again.

  I suck in a deep breath of air and swing the door open, clutching the brass handle hard.

  “Dude.” Ezra storms into the room. He’s all blond hair, golden skin, and blue eyes. My heart clenches when I see him, and my body craves to take him in my arms, push him against the floor, and kiss him hard.

  Instead, I just stuff my hands in my pockets and feel like the biggest jerk in the world. This morning. Maybe we didn’t leave on the best of terms.

  “What the hell?” Ezra’s eyes focus on me, and my gaze flickers down under the weight of his probing. “We can’t just do what we did, and then—”

  My fingers clench together, and I try not to gaze at his blue eyes, deeper now in his anger. I try not to offer him comfort, because if I do, I’ll never stop. I try to tell myself that this is just fine, and maybe this way he’ll grow so uncomfortable he’ll get his mother to stop the wedding.

  “I—” His lips draw into a tight line, and he rubs his hand through his silky strands. He collapses onto my bed, his arms spread wide, and I quickly pull out a chair from my desk. It’s far too tempting to join him on the bed.

  His t-shirt rises up, and I swallow hard when a golden sliver of skin becomes visible between his white shirt and sweatpants. I want to run my hands over it, touch my mouth to it. I scrunch my eyes together and try to banish the images from my mind.

  “Look.” My voice wobbles. “I would love to repeat last night, but—”

  “You think it’s impossible.” Ezra rolls his eyes at me, and my chest tightens. He rolls onto one side, props his head against his elbow, and looks absolutely delicious. My fingers itch to take him in my arms once more.

  I smirk at him. “I know it’s possible.”

  He frowns and moves into a sitting position on the ridiculously tempting bed. “You’re trying to distance yourself from me. This whole time, that’s all you’ve been trying to do. But Alec—you gave yourself away last night. You were sweet and—”

  He swallows hard, and my chest squeezes because this must be difficult for him. It is for me.

  “What do you want?” I ask.

  “Last night. Not the sex—” His cheeks flush, and his voice is husky, and I’ve heard that note before, in his songs. “Or whatever it was. Or at least not that. But I want us to be friends and maybe—”

  “I want it too,” I say. “I do.”

  “Then—” He steps off the bed and strides toward me.

  “I’m just going to hurt you,” I say.

  “Why?”

  I avert my eyes. I know what’s going to happen when Dad hurts Angela, but I can’t tell Ezra that, not without betraying my father.

  “Just try for me,” Ezra pleads.

  My chest clenches. Being friends, being more than friends, will only lead to hurt. Maybe I should just tell Ezra everything. But I can’t risk my father getting in trouble for a man I still hardly know. I can’t risk that I might get in trouble and that Dad will make good on his threat to expose me for helping him, dragging me down with him.

  “I’m no good for you, Ezra.” I stand. My tone is miserable, I’m sure, because I’m thinking of just how much I do want things to be right between us. I was there last night too. I knew it was awesome. And everything about Ezra—his drive, his dedication to his family, everything—appeals to me way too much.

  “It’s okay.” Ezra strides closer to me. “If you do like me—”

  “Oh, I do,” I say. My words rush out, and heat rushes to the back of my neck, spreading to my cheeks.

  But it doesn’t matter because in the next moment Ezra slams me against the wall and kisses me. His lips are hot and wet and wonderful, and I allow myself to think that maybe he’s right, maybe it will all be okay.

  Chapter Fifteen

  Ezra

  Alec’s arms crush against me, and I press him harder against the wall of his bedroom. The place is still bare—I thought he would hang posters everywhere, but textbooks are stacked in neat rows on his desk, with elaborate titles involving electricity and engineering and computers.

  He is different from the other guys I’ve met. More focused, more studious, though with that unmistakable, effortless sense of cool. Like that tattoo. My nostrils flare, and I press my head against his shoulder. I inhale his scent, a mixture of cotton and something richer and more woodsy, and my hands tighten around his waist. He moans, a throaty sound that fills me with want, and I tear his shirt from his pants and push my hand against his warm, sweaty skin.

  My cock thickens, and I draw Alec closer to me, luxuriating in the friction as the hardness in his thick jeans presses back against me.

  I glide my hands along his broad back, memorizing his muscular planes and the way his back curves. I brush my fingers against the scattering of hair that leads to his buttocks and then more tentatively slide my fingers under his waistband.

  “Ezra—” He shudders, my name on his hot breath, and a jolt of electricity surges through me. I force my hands lower and massage his firm ass with the palms of my hands. He leans his forehead against mine, and heat flows from him to me, so much that my heart swells. I pull my hands up, concentrating on pulling his body as close to mine as possible.

  His lips, wet and warm and wonderful, brush against mine, tantalizingly close, and I groan. I lift my hands to cup his face, not letting him move away, forbidding his skilled tongue from wandering far from my mouth. His succulent lips pull up into a lazy grin.

  Alec moves his hand to my waist, dipping lower, inside my waistband. His hands are large and powerful, and my breath quickens at his skilled touch. His finger inches closer to my crack, and I quiver, clutching him closer to me. The image of him inside me invades my mind, and I gasp as Alec lowers his finger farther.

  “You like that,” he whispers, and I cannot deny it. I arch my back, wiggling my butt, eager to do anything to maintain that delicious friction. I avert my head, and heat fills my cheeks, a sense of embarrassment present at how well he understands me, how base my needs are. I close my eyes, and my mouth parts when soft kisses trail over my eyelids. Alec’s touch is so gentle, his gaze when I’m not looking is so tender, and I cannot believe I can relegate this just to a sexual encounter. No way.

  Though he dresses toughly, never far from his black leather jacket, that’s just a disguise, just like the carefully constructed brand Julian created for me all those years ago. Beneath his bristling and sauntering, he’s a man I could adore.

  Maybe more than adore.

  I shrug that voice inside me away. Not ready for that.

  I concentrate on the sensations of his touch. I suck on his lips, moaning into his mouth when his tongue tangles with mine in a blissful dance.

  “Come to bed,” he says, his voice husky. He steps toward the bed and tugs on my hand. Our bodies separate, and I step after him. I have no fear, not like last night. And yet . . . my eyes scan the room and his hopeful expression.

  Something makes my heart twist. My eyes burn, and I flicker my gaze down. My heart pounds, and I plant my legs on the thick carpet, uncertain.

  “You don’t—” Alec’s smile tightens. “We don’t have to do anything you don’t want to.”

  I’m still.

  “Maybe this was a mistake,” he says, and I hate the mournful sound in his voice and the way he averts his eyes away from me.

  “That’s
not it.” I flicker my gaze to the bed. The pillows and comforter look so tempting, and I imagine Alec’s and my naked bodies tangled into an embrace. I want to roam my tongue over his body. I want Alec to explore me. Really explore me. And yet—I can’t bring myself to go there. Can’t bear for another morning to happen where Alec is cold and stiff. “We still don’t know each other.”

  His jaw twists, and his hands tighten into fists. “I’m no good for you.”

  I shudder because that sounds like a brush off. The sort of thing I might say to a woman throwing herself at me. The sort of thing I actually did say, many times, blaming my reluctance to take up the women’s offers on some higher morals. And though that might still be true—sleeping with Alec entices me, but not venturing out and doing the same with other men—it was certainly not the only reason I brushed off fan girls with regularity.

  And now Alec is brushing me off. I swallow hard. Maybe I’m too innocent, too inexperienced. Maybe my hands fumble too much against his, less sure of my motions. Maybe he’s used to more assertive, more forceful men. Maybe . . . I shake my head. The reason isn’t important. Only that Alec wants me to leave his room, as if nothing between us ever happened.

  “I wish—” Alec halts, and I swing my head toward him.

  “What do you wish?”

  He opens his mouth and then closes it. “Not important.”

  “Right.” I nod, and tension fills me. The door is just behind me, and I should be making an excuse about why I need to leave. I flex my fingers.

  “Screw it,” Alec mutters under his breath and clasps my fingers in his. “What do you want?”

  “You don’t need to ask that.” I flicker my gaze to the door.

  “I do if I want you to be happy,” he says.

  “You want that?” My mouth drops open.

  He blinks. “Of course, Ezra. Don’t you know that having you walk out the door is damned difficult for me?”

  My mouth dries. “Then don’t make me.” I swallow hard. “Look—let’s go out. Let’s just hang out. I can’t take another morning like today.” I smile at him, wryly, I think. “I’m new to all of this.”

  He stares at me, and for a dreadful moment, I’m sure he’s going to tell me it’s all impossible, for whatever reason. Not that he needs to give a reason. It’s obvious why we shouldn’t try anything. But then he lets his breath out in a long hiss. “Sounds like a plan, Ezra.”

  I’m not sure what we’ve gotten ourselves into, and my heart beats an uncertain rhythm, but I can’t keep happiness from soaring through me all the same.

  Chapter Sixteen

  Alec

  The weeks whirl by. Each day, I return to Santa Monica tired, but it only takes one glimpse of Ezra for energy to rush through me again.

  We tell our parents we spend the evenings playing video games, but inevitably we abandon the games for the bed, leaving the sound of the video game on, should our parents wander too near the carriage house.

  Ezra is the person I tell about my day, and I listen to everything about his. I’ve never had a person play this role in my life before, and I’m still somewhat bewildered at having someone I want to see when I return home each day.

  We take long strolls on the beach late at night, when all the pre-teen fans are at home, and most of the other fans are away as well, keeping more sensible hours than Ezra or me. Ezra covers his hair in an outrageous beanie, and would wear sunglasses if I didn’t convince him that was obvious celebrity behavior.

  We stride slowly beside the ocean. I should be used to the long expanse of sea now, the beating of the waves, and the manner in which seagulls dip and swirl over the horizon, but I still get excited every time we stand before it.

  “Think you could ever leave Kentucky for good?” Ezra asks me.

  “Yeah.” I don’t want to tell him how badly I want to do just that. California feels less claustrophobic, at least when looking out over the ocean. Anything seems possible here.

  I flick my gaze to Ezra and wonder if he can tell I’m thinking about him. Our parents are getting married, and here I am, my shoes sliding in the soft sand, daydreaming about a future with a world-renowned rock star. As if that’s something that’s possibly realistic. The guy’s not even out, and I’m not going to press him about it because I can promise him exactly nothing.

  “Let’s go home,” Ezra whispers.

  “Now?” We were planning on going into Santa Monica.

  Ezra’s cheeks darken, and I curse that I can’t cup his face in my hands, can’t tangle our hands together, can’t kiss him.

  “Sure.” I nod slowly, but Ezra is off, racing me through the well-groomed couples strolling down this same stretch of beach.

  Dad and Angela are sitting in the kitchen, and we wave to them briefly before rushing to the carriage house. “Gonna make it to the next level,” Ezra shouts.

  My cock tightens, and a surge of electricity jolts through me.

  That’s not what he meant, I tell myself. That’s just the cover. He didn’t mean another level of sex.

  We’ve sucked each other off more times than I can count, showered together, given each other quick hand jobs in the morning before I creep back into my bedroom, but anal is something we haven’t ventured into doing. Even though I’ve thought about it often, imagining his moans are because I’m inside of him, or that he’s inside of me.

  I know he’ll love it once we do it. The step seems massive, and all the other steps are so awesome it feels like we don’t need it. But maybe—

  My cock hardens as we walk toward his place, and his bedroom at the end of the drive seems way too far away. I want to be inside of him. I want that so badly.

  Ezra slips into the room, and I follow him. He pulls me into his arms at once and kicks the door shut with his leg. “I want you.”

  His breath is warm, his voice husky, and my nerve endings soar. I clutch him closer to me, pulling him into a deep embrace, and I move my lips toward him, hoping to pull him into an even deeper kiss. He wriggles out of my grip though, and I feel coldness sweep over me.

  The next moment, Ezra flings himself onto his bed. He tears off his clothes, a grin on his face, and my heart is once again soaring, its rightful position wherever Ezra is concerned. I saunter after him, my steps light and almost carefree.

  His golden hair glints under the lamps in the room, and his golden skin begs me to touch it. Ezra is everything perfect, everything I taught myself not to crave.

  And here I am, crazier about him than any of his millions of adoring fans. Ezra’s every move seems to go directly to my heart. And now, now his bare skin is revealed.

  “Alec?”

  I don’t let Ezra say another word before I rush over to him. I pull him into my arms, and we lie together for a while, our breath mingling. My cock strains against my pants, and Ezra’s cock—God, I can actually see it, hard and rigid and completely tempting. I move my hand to it, and Ezra gives a little moan that I adore and proceeds to undress me.

  “We have the place to ourselves,” Ezra murmurs.

  “That’s nice,” I say.

  Ezra smirks and pulls me closer to him.

  Dad and Angela have been going out a lot, and when they’re not out and about, they’re giggling, looking at magazines. I know they must be planning their wedding, but I don’t want to ask. Everything seems to be going fine, and maybe everything will be right between Dad and Angela—or maybe Ezra has taken up too much of my mind. I still, but Ezra pulls me into a kiss, sucking on my lips, and then—more amazingly—my tongue.

  Ezra has managed to remove all my clothes, and my back arches against the soft sheets. I try to allow my feelings to carry me off, but a wave of sadness hits me. I can’t share moments with Ezra like this and not talk to him about my family. Even if it means he might leave me. My lips press together, and I steel my expression.

  Chapter Seventeen

  Ezra

  Alec scrambles into a sitting position, crossing his legs together. He clutch
es my hands with his, and I smile at the delicious jolt of electricity that flows through me. Light shines onto him from the open window, and the turquoise sea stretches outside in long, gentle ripples.

  I lean toward him, but Alec inches away. I flicker a questioning gaze at him, and Alec sucks in a breath of air. His face twists, and my fingers itch to sweep the tortured expression from his face, but Alec’s grasp on them tightens.

  “Your mom can’t marry my dad.” Alec’s voice is solemn and his gaze steady, as if to make sure I understand that he is actually saying those words, even though his sentence is nonsensical, ridiculous, but still manages to tumble dismay through me.

  I blink and shift my legs away from him. Maybe they don’t need to touch his. “I don’t think we should sacrifice their happiness just because of what we’re doing.”

  “No.”

  “No?”

  “That’s not my concern.” Alec juts his chin out, and my stomach quivers.

  My fingers tense beneath his, and he notices, smoothing them over with his large hands. Normally, the gesture would cause my heartbeat to quicken, and I might close my eyes, content to bask in the sensation of his warm touch and the realization that he is right there next to me, caring. But now there is nothing calming about his attempts to soothe me while he coolly discusses our parents’ happiness.

  Mom has never been happier. I’m sure of that. “I hope you’re not saying those sorts of things to Brad. What if he ends the engagement?”

  Maybe Alec has never seen Mom unhappy, but I have, and I don’t want her to have to go through that again. I pull my hands out of his grip, and a ripple of displeasure crosses Alec’s face.

  “Look . . .” Alec rubs his hand through his hair, and I avert my eyes. Now is not the time to contemplate how gorgeous his strands are. He rises and paces my room. His strides are long, and any other time I would want to let my eyes wander over his powerful form.

  I cross my arms against my chest, and my heart thuds beneath them. Alec’s expression is harder, brittle even. His unhappiness is so visible despite his attempts to mask it, and my hands ache to be able to comfort him.