The Other Brother Part 1: Forbidden

by Lauren Hawkeye

  And the way she uses her mouth could make a guy’s head explode.

  She’s about as different from Allegra as she could possibly be. And that’s ultimately what has me pulling my phone out of my pocket.

  But is it really fair to use one girl to drive thoughts of another out of my head?

  Whether it is or not, I’m pretty sure I’ve got to do it. Distracting myself is the only way to avoid what my feelings for Allegra could become.

  What they must never become.

  I hear the light footfall on the stairs before I can even pull up my contact list. Too light to be Sam or Theo, not that either of them would ever come up here, and not the familiar cadence of my mom.

  My gut tightens as the knock sounds. I swear I can smell spun sugar, travelling in on the thin ribbon of space underneath the door.

  Allegra.

  Every muscle that I have tightens, and I find myself holding my breath. If I don’t say anything, maybe she’ll think I’m not here. And the hilarity of that doesn’t escape me—the big, bad boy from the rough end of Boston hiding from the sweet, sheltered young girl.

  But when said sweet girl has such a life changing effect of the boy... drastic measures are necessary.

  There’s a pause, and I start to relax, thinking that it’s worked. Then I hear something scratching against the door, and before I know it, Allegra is pushing her way through, screwdriver in hand.

  “Did you just use a screwdriver to open my locked door?” I gape at her a bit. I’m not usually at a loss for words, but this—this is typical of what she does to me. Throws me off my game, doesn’t take my shit.

  She arches an eyebrow. “Obviously.” Tucking the tool into her back pocket, she crosses to me, holding out a small plate. On it is a thick slice of chocolate cake, and my mouth waters. I tell myself it’s from the cake and not her.

  Even bad boys can have a sweet tooth.

  “Take it.” She jiggles it a little in front of my face. Like an automaton, I do, and we stand there, both of us entirely still, with a plate full of cake in between us.

  Cake. I’m fixated on the cake. It’s like a lifeline, something to hold onto while the thundering of my pulse in her presence makes me weak.

  “So...” Needing to break the tension, I turn around, deliberately casual, and place the plate on the battered coffee table. “Did you come here with the intention of breaking in, or do you always carry tools in your back pocket?”

  She tries to hide her smile behind a wave of that gorgeous red gold hair. “I figured you wouldn’t answer. But I...”

  “Wanted to bring me cake?” Yes, I tried to put space between us, but like magnets, I find myself moving back. Her eyes widen a bit as I do, and though I try to ignore it, knowing that I affect her makes me feel ten feet tall.

  “Yes.” Her chin lifts defiantly. “I wanted to bring you cake. And you’re so damn stubborn, so set on rejecting me, rejecting all of us, I figured you weren’t go to answer.”

  There’s something she’s not telling me—and I really want to know. I take a step forward, deliberately invading her space, savoring her little intake of breath.

  “You could have just left it outside the door.” I arch an eyebrow at her, watch her face flush.

  “No, I couldn’t.” Rather than deflecting, she looks up at me and smirks. “It would attract raccoons.”

  God, but I love that she never backs down.

  “What if I’d had company?” I stress the last word, making it clear just what kind of visitor I’m talking about. Her face flames scarlet, and I have to resist the urge to reach out and trace my fingers over a hot, smooth cheek.

  “Well then, I guess I would have just gotten an eyeful of something I don’t much want to see.” Her chin quivers a bit, and I watch as her gaze drops... down from my face, over my chest, and down.

  Down.

  Blood roars through me, and the air grows heavy. I know she’s thinking the same thing as me... what it would feel like to have her come across me, naked, aroused.

  Hard.

  Ready.

  “Allegra.” There’s something sparking between us here that overrides my common sense. I give in, and rub a thumb over the sweet curve of her cheek, draw my fingers through her hair. Her sweet smell intensifies, drugging me, making me stupid.

  “Why did you bring me the cake?” She lifts her chin, looks into my eyes, runs the tip of her tongue over her lips.

  Oh fuck, oh fuck, oh fuck. Must not.

  “I never said thank you for last week. For the... for what you did for me. At the party.” She’s trembling like she wants to look away, but like me, she can’t seem to.

  “Even though I was an asshole the next day?” If I move any closer, I’ll be able to feel the fan of her warm breath on my face.

  Her lips quirk up in just the ghost of a smile. “You’re always an asshole, Seth. It’s part of your charm.”

  She tilts her head to one side, her vibrant eyes blurring a bit. It’s one of those picture perfect, movie moments, and if she was any other girl, I’d kiss her. Funny that it’s kissing her that I dream about, and not any of the dirty things that I’ve actually done with other women.

  She inhales, or maybe I do, and I hear alarms start to scream in my head. This is it. This is going to happen. I’m going to kiss her. I can’t help it.

  She deserves better than you, Thorne.

  It’s as though I’m outside my own body, shouting at myself... the good angel on my shoulder triumphing. For so many reasons, this can’t happen.

  “Okay. Well, now you’ve said thanks. You’ve delivered your... offering. You can go.” I don’t want to look like I’m retreating by stepping away, so instead I draw on every last bit of strength that I possess and curve my lips into a cruel smile.

  Allegra jolts, torn out of that heavy cloud we’d been floating in just a moment before. For a moment, as her face reddens with embarrassment, she looks like she might cry, and I feel like the biggest asshole to ever live.

  Then her jaw clenches with temper. Very slowly, very deliberately she narrows her eyes, then looks me up and down, lingering in one very specific area.

  I curse out loud as she looks right at my obviously hard cock, clearly outlined beneath the thin denim of my jeans.

  “Why do you push me away?” She licks her lips, and I can all but see the surge of bravery that she’s conjuring from within herself. She’s going to make a move. My cock rejoices, and the rest of me slams up walls so fast it hurts.

  “You’re smarter than that, Allegra.” I manage to grind out from between my clenched teeth, and whether it looks like I’m retreating or not, I take a deliberate step back to put some space between us. “Don’t do this.”

  “I want to.” She looks up at me, her face set in stubborn lines... her painfully young, innocent face.

  I don’t want to hurt her. But this just can’t happen. I’m going to have to be coarse.

  “You think you’re ready for what I want? You think you can handle this?” Crudely, I grab at myself, emphasizing the hardness of my nearly painful erection. Her eyes widen, and I know I’m on the right track.

  She’s so young. There’s chemistry between us, there’s no denying it. The most electric chemistry I’ve ever known.

  But her head is full of romantic notions about sunsets and flowers and losing herself sweetly.

  Even if I could give that to her, even if it wasn’t so very, very wrong, that’s not who I am.

  “Seth.” Allegra whispers, and I almost crumble. I need to get her out of here, now.

  “Kitten, if you knew what I want, you’d run screaming into the night.” I grin, deliberately making the expression cruel. Her lower lip finally, finally starts to tremble. “That’s right, baby. Run on home. You’re not ready for this. A girl like you never will be.”

  “Kitten? You condescending asshole. Fuck you, Seth.” Turning, she runs from my apartment, not even bothering to close the door behind her. I listen to her steps thunderi
ng down the stairs, throwing my head back and groaning with agony.

  I’ve never been what I call a good person, but if I believed in a deity, I’d ask what I’d ever done to deserve this fresh kind of hell.

  “Get over it, Thorne. It’s for the best.” Still, I find myself crossing to window, just to make sure she gets into the house okay.

  A moment after I take my place by the glass, I see the fiery stream of her hair, cascading behind her as she runs out of the garage. She’s obviously crying, and it’s like a knife twisting in my gut to know that I’m the cause.

  “Allegra. Stop.” The arrogant tones of Theo make their way to my open window, and I tense as Theo appears, clutching his sister by the upper arms to halt her progress. “What happened?”

  “Theo!” Allegra wails in the overly dramatic way that only a teenage girl can, and throws herself into the arms of her brother—her blood brother. I’m distracted for a moment, wondering where Theo came from.

  He’d... yeah, he’d appeared out of the early evening shadows at the side of the garage. What the hell had he been doing? There was nothing there but a bunch of trash cans and a family of raccoons that Sam could never seem to get rid of.

  But it would have been a perfect place to hang out and watch if he’d followed Allegra from the main house.

  Something about that makes my hackles rise. It should be reassuring, the big brother just keeping an eye on his little sister when she went to visit the volatile new member of their family.

  But as I watch him pull that same little sister into his arms for a hug, I find myself still more disturbed.

  The smile on his face—it’s not what I’d expect a brother to look like when comforting his little sister. It’s almost... I hesitate to say orgasmic, because that’s just so very wrong.

  The hug breaks. He smiles at her, ruffles her hair. And then very, very slowly reaches out to straighten the strap of her camisole, which has fallen down over her shoulder. He lingers over the touch, and I just know. I know why he’s always made me so unsettled.

  It makes me sick. It makes me want to vomit.

  Allegra continues into the house. And as soon as she’s gone, Theo looks up at the window where I stand, like he knew all along that I was watching.

  “Sonofabitch.”

  He should look ashamed. He should look guilty.

  Instead... instead there’s rage, that same rage that makes me want him the hell out of this house, this house that I don’t even belong in.

  “Seth!” I hear him roar my name, and then he’s on the stairs up to my place, coming for me. And I push away from the window to meet him, body tight, fists already clenched. I’m ready for this. Ready for blood.

  “Stay away from Allegra!” Theo’s voice bounces off the walls of my small place as he shoves through the open doorway, already swinging at me. They’re trite, those words, or at least they would be if they were said for the right reasons.

  I dodge his swing, and jab my elbow into his stomach. Theo’s big, a big, blonde football playing, All-American Ken doll. But I’m big too, and more than that, I’m mean.

  His breath explodes from his chest as I drive into his solar plexus, and I wrap my arm around his neck, driving him down to the floor. He bucks, continuing to throw punches. A few land as we roll, and I fell warm liquid trickle from a split in my mouth, smell the coppery tang of blood. I think he’ll give up soon—I’ve known his type before, more concerned with themselves than with anything else. But he’s almost manic, frantic in his attempts to subdue me.

  “Maybe I should be the one telling you to stay away.” Finally pinning him to the floor, I straddle his hips, my hands planted on his chest to keep him in place. His eyes shift as he takes in the meaning of my words.

  “She’s mine,” he finally hisses, still bucking, trying to get free. And the absolute certainty in his eyes makes me cold. “Mine. Mine.”

  “What do you mean, yours?” I know better than to let go, yet hearing him actually confirm what I only suspected a moment ago is... sickening. It turns my stomach. Slowly, I pull back, away from this disgusting facsimile of a man.

  He crabwalks back, putting space between us, and grins as he wipes blood away from his own mouth. His face isn’t so perfect now... more like a Ken doll in a horror movie.

  “You know exactly what I mean. Maybe better than anyone else.” He smiles again, and I clench my fists, ready to drive one into his face. But he continues, and what he says stops me in my tracks.

  “Who are you to judge me? You’re her brother, too.”

  Chapter Three

  ALLEGRA

  Three Friday evenings have passed since that moment between Seth and I in his apartment. That moment when I’d thought he was going to kiss me, and instead he’d treated me like a little girl.

  I was a little girl. I’d acted like a fool. And now I was ashamed to look him in the eye.

  It’s late, almost midnight. I shut my chemistry book and lean back in my chair. My eyes sting something awful. I rub at them and sigh. I’ve been at it, studying that is, for the past four hours, but I’ve been burying myself in schoolwork as a distraction against... well, against Seth.

  Never, to my dying day, will I forget the way he looked at me. I might be young, I might be naïve, but I’m not an idiot.

  He’d wanted me. I understood why it was a bad idea. I could get over him pushing me away.

  What I couldn’t forgive him for was the way he’d treated me. I wouldn’t tolerate being treated like... like a cheap whore who was throwing myself at him.

  But I haven’t been quite brave enough to bring that up. So I’ve been avoiding the ever loving hell out of my stepbrother.

  Standing, I stretch out my back. The tart smell of Mexican lime and the more mellow vanilla perfume of oleander hits my nose, brought in on the warm breeze coming through my open bedroom window. We have several oleander trees in our yard, beautiful shrubs of white nd pink and yellow, so stunning it’s hard not to touch them.

  But every Texan knows better. Innocent beauty outside, poison in the middle. That’s oleander.

  That doesn’t mean I can’t enjoy the heady scent though even if the slight trickle of a breeze does nothing to the stifling Texas heat. Sweat slicks my body. My camisole sticks to my chest and my shorts stick to my ass cheeks. Jesus, sweat even dots the skin on my legs and feet. I need a drink. Badly. Maybe even another shower. Sometimes in Texas in the summer months you end up taking like three showers a day.

  My water glass is empty so I take it and tip toe out of my room and go down the stairs to the kitchen. Dad and Dinah are in bed. I’m thankful. Their big topic of conversation the last weeks, an argument whispered furiously behind closed doors, has been about Seth and Theo. About how, the day after that family dinner, they were both covered in cuts and bruises.

  And neither will talk about it.

  Dad thinks they’re just boys being boys.

  Dinah, though... she wants more of an answer than that.

  I assume that Theo and Seth got into a fight over Seth making me cry. I hadn’t told Theo anything about what had happened—I certainly hadn’t told him how I felt. Partly because, well, that was a secret. Something I don’t even understand yet, let alone have the words to explain.

  And partly because... the last couple of weeks, things with Theo’s gotten weird. If I didn’t know how much he cares about football, I would maybe wonder if he was on drugs. I can’t put my finger on it, but where I’ve always seen my brother as just that... my brother... things with him have started to get a little bit uncomfortable.

  Shrugging that off, I head downstairs in search of a drink.

  It’s dark in the kitchen, but I don’t turn the light on. I don’t need the light to find my way. I fill my glass with cold filtered water from the refrigerator and take it to the patio doors. Opening them, I step outside. Although the temperature is no different outside than it is inside, at least the breeze provides a tiny bit of relief, drying the dampness o
n my forehead.

  Sipping my water, I stare out into the dark back yard and shiver a little. Sometimes when I come out here at night I feel like someone is watching me. My gaze moves over to the garage, to Seth’s room above it. A place I’ve avoided like hell for the last three weeks.

  The idea of Seth watching me doesn’t make me uncomfortable though. No, it makes me kind of... warm. I feel my cheeks flush.

  Draining the rest of the water, I turn to go back into the kitchen to refill my glass before heading back upstairs. I step inside, slide the door shut, and nearly drop my glass to the floor. Seth is at the kitchen table, sitting in the shadows.

  “Sweet Jesus, you scared the crap out of me.”

  He doesn’t say anything but just lowers his head into his hands on the table.

  It doesn’t seem to matter what I’ve told myself over the last three weeks, how much I’ve thought about the fact that this attraction is all in my head. Just seeing him makes me awake, alive. My belly flips over, and nerves zing through me like electricity.

  It’s too much. I want to retreat.

  Something tells me to stay right where I am. Something is wrong.

  I take a shaky step forward and that’s when I see the blood and bruises on his face and the red stains on his hands and white t-shirt. This is a million times worse than the fight marks he had a few weeks away, the shadows of bruises that are still visible under these fresh lacerations.

  He’s very badly hurt. And from the look of his knuckles, someone else is, too.

  “Seth. What happened?” Instinct takes over and I shoot across the room to inspect his face. “Are you okay?” I assess the damage: a split lip, black eye, some long marks in his chiseled cheekbone. Hurrying to the kitchen sink, I wet a cloth with warm water.

  When I return to him, he hasn’t moved. He just watches me with that stoic look of his, and my belly clenches.

  Normally he looks everywhere but at me.

  Not important right now. Trying to be gentle, I press the cloth to his lip. “Are you going to tell me what happened?”