Anti-Stepbrother(81)

My heart pounded, pressing against my chest cavity like it wanted to go to him. I wanted to take his pain from him. But I couldn’t do any of those things.

“I’m so sorry, Caden.”

He let out a ragged breath, this one sounding like it was ripped from his guts. “Yeah. I don’t want to talk about it any more. I tend to go apeshit when I do.”

With reason.

I hated this. I hated hearing a story so miserable, so pain-filled, and with no happy ending. There should always be a happy ending.

“I’m so sorry, Caden.”

That was all I could say.

“Yeah.” He paused. “It hurts, that’s all.”

We laid there.

In silence.

Holding hands.

Maybe I moved. Maybe he did. I don’t know who started it, but it didn’t matter because then we were kissing. His mouth was on mine. I was underneath him. I wanted to be more than underneath. I wanted to be with all of him. And his hand was under my shirt, trailing a blazing path up as he lifted it free. His hands were on my breasts. His mouth was there. He was kissing, licking, tasting. He was loving me.

My legs wound around him, pulling him down to me, as far as he could go.

I could feel him.

He ground against me, and dear God, I wanted that. I wanted everything. I wanted all of him. I was starving.

This wasn’t like the first time we’d kissed.

This wasn’t the hot and sudden combustion I’d felt then. This was more. This was so beyond more. This was a need we had for each other.

Maybe it was about comfort. Maybe it was one small way to make something good out of a fucked-up situation. Maybe it was because he was hurting, and therefore I was too, and together we could ease that pain.

Or maybe it was because I was in love.

Whatever it was, my brain had stopped working the moment he’d told me he was hurting. My heart took over, and it raced as I slid my hands up his chest. He was strong. He was beautiful. And as he dipped down, his mouth finding mine once again, he was mine.

“Caden,” I whispered. I wound my arms around his shoulders and raked them down his back as he arched above me.

His hand went to my jeans, and he paused, waiting for my permission.

I nodded.

“Are you sure?”

“God, yes.” I pushed his jeans off as he tugged mine all the way to the floor.

We had to get up in a few hours, finish packing, and travel with a bunch of people I didn’t want along. They’d be in the way when it was only Caden I wanted to be with. As he reached for a condom, I knew this was what I wanted for the weekend.

Him. Me.

Then he was inside of me, and I closed my eyes, not feeling my heart hurting. It was filled, and as he went back to kissing me, I moved my hips and matched him. I moved with him, savoring the feel of his body above mine, because I didn’t know the next time this would happen, and that was okay.

I had him for the morning. I would do for him what I could.





“You look different.”

I leaned against Caden’s Land Rover, waiting as everyone packed their vehicles for the road trip. I’d agreed to ride with Caden, and only Caden, but Avery had ventured over to wait with me.

I didn’t feel like talking. The emotional upheaval from going to the hospital, being there for Caden, and then being with Caden had rendered me incommunicado. I couldn’t think, much less form a sentence, and I’d been worried Avery would want to talk about Claudia. She hadn’t, thank goodness. The only thing she’d said was that Claudia wasn’t coming anymore. A big thank goodness on that one too. The less drama, the better.

“I’m tired,” I told her. “That’s it.”

“You sure?” She sat on the curb and tilted her head back to look at me. I could hear her suspicion.

I shrugged, keeping my face neutral and everything else about me relaxed. I couldn’t break. There’d be no beads of sweat on my forehead. No, ma’am. “Yeah. I was up late packing.”

“You skipped lunch to finish packing.”

I’d forgotten my earlier lie. “Yeah. I mean, I did as much as I could last night, but I was up late.”

“How late?”

“I don’t know.”

“I was up late too.”

Oh, dear God. When did Avery turn into a private dick?

“I don’t know. Late. Like, four in the morning.” Keep it as close to the truth as possible. I learned that from watching Veronica Mars. “How late were you up?”

“Not that late.”

Finally. She said that begrudgingly, and I was going to take it and run with it. I cocked my head to the side. “Oh yeah. It might’ve been later than that.” And now I was going to add another truth to further distract her. “I’m nervous about seeing Clarissa too.”