by Nicole Snow
“I'm sure if there were anything untoward happening, Cordelia would let me know,” he says softly, brushing aside her mad concerns.
He doesn't believe her. Good. Too bad lying is the only thing holding me back from total disaster.
Evie grabs his arm and throws him off. She staggers up, throwing her napkin down over her half-finished food, and glares at my poor whipped father.
“Your little slut has some backbone, I'll give her that. She's woman enough to go after a man, even if he's the last boy in the world she ought to be with. That's better than I've gotten, I suppose.”
“Evie...shut up.” Dad's eyes narrow. “If you call my daughter a slut again, I'll drag you back to that goddamned doctor's office, kicking and screaming if I have to. You've been through hell, and we're all here for you, but that doesn't give you the right to be such a...such a...”
Evie cocks her head and purses her lips. “Bitch? Oh, Bruce. I would've given you a kiss if you'd had the balls to finally say it. Whatever's left of that pathetic shit between your legs will just have to crawl up your stomach when you finally see the truth. I'll let you find out the hard way. You won't have to hear it from me, hubby. Good fucking night.”
My eyes are on my food. I've totally lost my appetite, but it seems safe, just in case I decide to grab the nearest thing within reach and throw it at her vicious face.
Dad sticking up for me lends a shred of hope, but he can't hold her off in the end. He rips out a chair and sinks angrily into his seat. We both listen to her heels clacking away, loud and lonely, like the hooves of some creature that just dragged itself out of hell.
With anybody else, I would've been exaggerating, but my stepmother really is a crazy bitch.
“Dad, it's going to be okay,” I whisper, reaching for his hand and squeezing it tight. “Don't listen to her. You defended me when she was accusing me of all that crap. You put her in her place.”
Well, almost, I think to myself, but of course I don't say it. I'm not sure he'll survive another blow to his fragile ego.
“I just don't understand why they all go crazy in the end,” he growls, pulling his hand away from mine. He pushes both across his tense forehead, ruffling his salt and pepper hair. “This is worse than with your mother, honey. At least her affair...well, I saw it coming. I worked too many hours. I ignored her too much. I screwed up.”
I shrug. He's beating himself up again, and I'm not going to hear it. Maybe there's a grain of truth to everything he's saying, but mom walked out on us both, and I haven't gotten more than a Christmas card from her and the new dick she's attached herself to every year since the divorce.
They moved across the country my last year of high school. Since then, it's always been dad and his favorite daughter. I know I'm the only thing in the world he can count on.
For a long time, that went both ways.
We were happy. We were one little, imperfect, happy family.
Until Evie. Until Chris.
Now, she's tearing out his heart in slow motion a few centimeters a day, and I'm lying to my own father for the last man in the world I should be falling for.
Jesus, what the hell is happening?
I shouldn't have had so much wine trying to ignore the tension over dinner. I start tearing up, and next thing I know, I'm blotting at my eyes with my napkin. Dad looks more shocked than me, wounded because he sees me hurting.
It's strange, guilt inducing, when I know he's bleeding rivers inside. He's just too proud to show it. However weak he is about calling her out, he keeps a shield around his own agony. The only times I've ever seen him cry are at funerals.
“Dad, you haven't done anything wrong here. It's all her baggage, and she has way too much of it. I'm surprised you want to keep fighting it...isn't the writing on the wall?” I'm too gentle.
Another lump forms in my throat. I can't bring myself to take him by the shoulders, shake him, tell him to divorce this fucking woman.
It's his decision to make. But it's also dishonest for me to want her gone when I have a very handsome, painfully emotional conflict of interest.
Chris keeps running through my mind now, even when I shouldn't be focused on anything except dad's screwed up relationship with his mom.
“I can't give up yet,” he says coldly. “The only thing worse than a middle aged executive whose name gets dragged through the mud every time the airline cuts costs is a middle aged executive with mud on his face and two divorces behind him.”
“I just want you to be happy,” I say softly, and I really mean it. “I'm serious. You've done so much for me, and I'll never forget it. Not as long as I live.”
Dad gives me a big smile and wraps his arms around me. “You're so sweet, Cordelia. Thanks for being my rock, like always.”
I slowly let go, feeling him pull away. He looks past me, staring down the hall.
“Well, I guess I'd better go see if she's going to keep me locked out tonight. Or she would, if I hadn't had the locks removed on our bedroom door while she was in rehab.” He shrugs. “They said it'd be a long road to getting all the junk out of her system. Please don't be too hard on her, honey, whatever nonsense she says. She's not in her right mind. She can't tell right from wrong, fantasy from what's real. It's my job to help her out.”
My fists tense at my sides, so hard my hands start to shake. He doesn't even look back as he walks away, and I let out a heavy sigh, offering him one more burst of encouragement.
“Whatever makes you happy, dad.”
Happy. There's that word again.
It's like a bullet to the heart. My happiness will never be compatible with his – not when he finds out about Chris and I. And he's going to, sooner or later. I'm going to slip up and spill it, or Chris' SEAL courage will get the best of him, and he'll march right up and tell our parents himself.
I'm not ready for that. I'm not sure if I'll ever be.
Fuck. What does that mean?
It's like I've just stepped out of a time machine. Marnie insisted on costumes and formal wear for the mid-summer party, and the entire house looks so elegant. Bows and bells are all over the place, orange-white stripes and red-white-and-blue, the wholesome décor of a simpler time.
The staff helped me set things up only hours ago, and the guests are already filing in. Dad's going to be away over the weekend at his conference, just as planned. I struggle not to step on my long, flowing blue dress that reaches to the floor.
I'm anxious to see what Chris looks like. He's supposed to wear something military, and I'm sure he'll be dashing. Of course, the finery and pretend manners won't last once the dancing starts and the liquor flows. I expect it'll be about thirty minutes before people start to lose the costumes and disappear across the property, filling every little nook and cranny with their own private fucking.
It's my last year of college. I'm almost ready to move on from this wild, free spirited stuff, but going out with a bang a couple more times won't hurt, right?
There's a loud chime as I'm taking the stairs gingerly, one at a time, careful not to trip on my skirt and break my neck. I get to the door ahead of any staff.
When Marnie shows up with her tangerine man, she throws her arms around me, wearing something that looks it belongs in a lounge from the roaring twenties.
“Delia, darling!” she says in her best aristocratic accent, pecking me on each cheek. “Where's that handsome soldier boy of yours?”
The warm smile I greet her with vanishes. She's still eyeing my sexy, badass stepbrother a little too close for my liking, and tempting me to pull the big secret out of the closet too.
She knows we're doing more than just having drinks and taking walks as siblings. I force my sweetest smile, greet the gorilla next to her, and then lean in.
“He'll be by a little later, Delia. Why don't you go mingle with everybody else and get your man a drink for a change?”
“Fine, we'll do it your way.” She rolls her eyes, walking past me without so much a second gl
ance.
I'm about to head after her, hoping I can change the subject and smooth things over, when somebody grabs me by the shoulder.
I know it's Chris before we're face to face, and his lips are on mine. Nobody else puts his hands on me like this, like he already owns every inch of me. Nobody kisses like he does.
“Sneaky jerk,” I whimper, when his tongue glides off mine. “Do they teach you that stuff in SEAL training?”
“Nah. Handling my woman comes naturally. I came ready for you tonight, babe.” He steps back so I can get a look at his costume.
I almost faint on the spot like some goofy nineteenth century romance heroine.
Swoon-worthy is the only word that fits. His clothes cling tight to the hard, tattooed muscle underneath. He's wearing an elegant white uniform that almost looks like a tuxedo, studded with more medals on one side than I can count.
The buttons part his magnificent chest neatly, and when I look up to his face again, I notice the final touch. I can't stop myself from laughing, more amazed than anything else.
“A bow-tie? Are you kidding me? Don't tell me – you added that yourself!”
He smiles and shrugs. “Guess you've never seen a SEAL's dinner dress before. You told me to look like a prince, yeah?”
“I meant something a little less modern.” My hand flows out instinctively, flattening on his chest, slowly creeping down it. “I guess this'll do.”
Yeah. Understatement of the century.
He makes me think of a sailor, a knight, and a classy billionaire all at once. If it wasn't for the tiny splash of ink sneaking out one cufflink, nobody would ever know about the animal underneath, the one I've met night after night, and desperately want to meet again.
“You said prince, beautiful. I figure this shit's about as antiquated as royalty. Not really my style, but orders are orders, and you're the CO of this bash tonight.” He winks.
The heat between my legs officially goes nova.
God. I already want him to rip it off. Something about the thick, formal layers only accent the perfection underneath. It reminds me what he can do when he's got me under him, between his legs, fucking me with those powerful, unforgettable strokes that take me to another world.
“Shit, woman, sometimes I think you're hornier than I am.” His eyes tell me I'm not the only doing the eye-fucking here.
With a growl, Chris takes me by the hand, and sneaks in a rough pat on the ass. I can barely feel it through the thick dress, but it's just enough to get me moving, gladly holding him by the arm.
The doorbell keeps ringing behind us, letting in more of Marnie's crowd. She handles all the party planning crap. I trust her because she sticks to the good kids, the ones who just like to drink too much and get down with their boyfriends and girlfriends. Nobody truly harmful who'd steal from us or light the house on fire ever gets in.
We saunter into the big dining room off the kitchen. The doors are propped open, leading out onto the pool deck. Frowning, I look through the window, and see several people have already lost their tuxedos and dresses, stripping down to bare essentials for swimming instead.
“That didn't take long,” I say, tugging on Chris' arm and pointing.
He grins and laughs. “What? You expect people to wander around out there in these getups and bake underneath the sun? Stripping to cool off comes with a high summer party's territory, Delia.”
I elbow him gently. I don't like it when he chides me, even though he's completely right. He's so damned bossy and sure of himself. He knows it doesn't take much to get me wet, and I hate it almost as much as I love it.
“Aw, don't give me that sass,” he growls. “Let's stop worrying about everybody else and enjoy ourselves.” Before I can say anything else, he jerks me over to the alcohol, where I let him serve me a glass of punch.
He's strangely lit today, humming to himself as he does. It's like the weight of the world is off his shoulders. Or is it another kind of tension? Something I'm seeing underneath the surface, but can't quite pin down?
It's hard to study his face without feeling everything below my waist go hot. This damned dress makes me like a dozen times more hot and bothered too. It won't be long before I'm begging to lose my panties if this keeps up.
“Drink up. Cool off.” Smiling, he shoves the punch into my hand, and gets himself a glass of beer from the huge keg next to the table. “I want you to loosen up. We're dancing when it kicks off later.”
“No way!” I almost choke, coughing strong punch down the wrong tube. “Chris, I don't dance. Not when I'm wearing this!”
I look down, and he laughs at me again. It's all the signal he needs to grab me by the waist and pull me into him. For just a second, I see that spark in his eyes.
It's not just my imagination. It's different, but I'm not sure if it's because we know we're in love, or because everything we've built is about to come crashing down.
“You danced with me our first night. Remember how good we felt together on the beach?”
His hand slides down my hip, cups my ass through the waves of blue, and squeezes. Oh, shit.
“That...wasn't exactly...dancing. It's going to be crazy tonight, Chris. All these drunken people spinning around, trying to dance to classical.”
Well, at least for one song. Knowing Marnie, the waltz will be a short-lived prank, before she falls back on the usual hip-hop, dubstep, and rock.
“Bullshit,” he growls into my ear, clenching my ass cheek harder. It makes me think about all the times he pulls me open, pushing his tongue into me from behind, and I shudder. “You dance just fine when you're skin to skin. I know you can do it dressed up with me too. Have a little confidence. It's like you really think all these skanks are prettier than you.”
His free hand sweeps over my face, tucking a stray lock over my ear. “I'm not having it tonight, Delia. This is our big blowout. You're mine, and I don't give a shit if everybody knows it. I want every asshole jock here to eat his fucking heart out when he sees your lips on mine. I want 'em to shake their girls all night because they'll be jealous, thinking about us.”
“Chris...” I'm speechless, and he pushes a finger over my lips, signaling he isn't done.
“I want everyone to see how goddamned amazing you are, how lucky I am, how hard I'm gonna fight if anybody ever comes within sniffing distance of what's mine.” He pauses to kiss the nook between my shoulder and my ear, and my hips instinctively tilt into his. “That's you, babe. All mine. Forever. No going back.”
Crap. How the heck are we supposed to dance when I'm already coming apart?
“We'll figure out some way to tell your old man later on, when he comes home. For now, we're coming out as a couple. I'm claiming you for everybody to see, Delia, and I don't give a shit if they've heard me call you sis.”
My heart sputters, tries to stop about ten times, before I can finally catch my breath. His iron grip releases me, and I stumble away, eyeing more punch. I need a break, a distraction, before I lose my mind.
I never imagined half the things he's saying coming out of his arrogant mouth. But today he's so sweet, so humble. What's going on? Is this real life?
“Why tonight, Chris? Why now?” I ask softly, letting him ladle more drink into my cup. “There's something up, isn't there?”
“It's nothing you need to worry about. Unless you count all the ways you're gonna batten down the hatches before I fuck you through the floor tonight.” His smile sharpens, and that hunger in his green eyes I know all too well turns them into spotlights. “You think we light it up every night we're naked? Just wait 'til you see what feeling your curves against me for a few more hours does before I'm balls deep.”
The thought makes me shudder. I can't resist as he moves in for another kiss. My panties are past uncomfortably soaked, and it's going to be a long haul to heading upstairs, or wherever the hell he plans to take me tonight for the grand finale.
“There you are! My, is it just the uniform, or do you two always do
this?” Marnie's voice sneaks up behind me, and I'm beet red by the time we break our kiss and turn around.
Shit. She's in full gloat, staring at us like she just caught our hands in the cookie jar. Or just his rough hand on my ass like it belongs, his lips on mine, moving and drinking me in with the skill of a man who's tamed dozens of girls before me.
“Good to see you too, Marnie,” Chris says. “We were gonna save it for the dance floor, but I guess you've got yourself an early preview. Here's one more.”
My limbs freeze up as he pulls me in for another kiss. My palms slap his chest, wondering if he's lost his mind. Something about having my snooty best friend watching us lock lips makes the heat greater, intense, moving through my body like lightning.
When he finally breaks away and I look up, her nasty smile is gone. She's looking at us both like she wants to sink into the ground and die of shock – something I've never seen before. Marnie doesn't do speechless – until now.
“Well? Any questions?” Chris beams at her. He won't let up.
She shakes her head, still totally lost for words. I want to laugh, but he does it for me, chuckling in his rich, sexy baritone.
“Good, good. Now show us what's happening out by the pool so we can get this party going.”
Hours blur by, and we're still dancing. I've never needed him this badly, never been this turned on, never felt every inch of my body pleading to stay pressed so tight to his.
Heavy bass throbs in my ears each time I lift my head off his chest. Chris just presses it back down with a possessive growl, running his hands all over me, swinging me with grace and power across the pool deck.
When we first started, beneath the evening sun, all eyes were on us. I swore I saw a couple people turn away in disgust the first time he put his mouth on mine, knowing we're stepsiblings, but everybody else broke into applause – even Marnie.
It's a strange, fantastic truth he's pulling me into. I don't want the fairy tale to end.
“You think if I hike up that skirt and fuck you right here, anybody will notice?” he leans in and rumbles in my ear, clasping my ass as our bodies lurch together one more time.
