Chapter Three
Trace
I should have known from the moment I laid eyes on her that Eva Morales was trouble. No, correction…actually, her name was Evangelina Guadalupe Morales, something I’d learned from the papers I’d signed for her landlord.
She’d been pretty pissed when she’d found out I’d settled her rent, and as far as I knew, she was still angry. I was sitting in my home office doing some research after she had stormed off in the general direction of her bedroom about an hour earlier, her nose in the air and nearly palpable steam emanating from her body.
I’ve already admitted to myself that I enjoyed making her angry just to watch her heated reactions. But it played hell with my cock. Maybe it was sick and twisted, but the hotter she got, the more I wanted to subdue her, use that passion she had in a much better, more satisfying way for both of us.
Did I give a shit if she was angry?
No.
I’d become accustomed to getting what I wanted, and I had needed to take care of her for some unknown reason, and it wasn’t because of some asinine attachment we had because her mother had supposedly married my father. Someone sure as hell needed to help manage Eva’s life, and I’d already decided that person was going to be me. My desire to make her safe and happy was far from brotherly; it was a primitive, far more intimate, gut-wrenching need, one I didn’t quite understand myself.
For the life of me, I couldn’t figure out what attracted me to her, but my cock had been stiff since the moment I caught my first glimpse of her, and it had stayed that way. She’d put on a brave front, but I had still been able to spot her discomfort yesterday in my office, sense her vulnerability. The desire to strip her naked and nail her up against a wall, on my desk, or any other solid surface had hit me almost immediately. But as badly as I had wanted to fuck her, every instinct I had insisted that I also…keep her safe.
Those two primal desires were waging war inside me, and even I wasn’t sure which one was going to win.
The fact that she was technically my stepsister hadn’t dulled my desire to fuck her until she screamed my name in climax at all. Maybe that showed I was a total prick, but I didn’t care.
We weren’t even remotely blood related, and I hadn’t known that my stepmother had borne a daughter. But then, how much had any of us known about Karen? She had died almost immediately, along with my father, after their marriage. The private jet carrying my brother, Dane, my father, and Dad’s new wife - Eva’s mother - had crashed. Dane, my youngest sibling, had been the only survivor.
Dane had barely come through the experience alive, and my concern for him was the only reason I had to, needed to, have a woman I was committed to by Christmas. My youngest brother was still scarred, inside and out, from his near-fatal crash, and there wasn’t much I wouldn’t do to keep him from going over the edge.
The sound of a ringing phone on the desk jarred me from thoughts, my eyes flying to the caller ID.
Sebastian.
The bastard hadn’t called me in over a month, probably avoiding the lecture he knew he’d get if he phoned. My middle brother was getting wild, hanging out with a bunch of losers. I’d tried to give him time to find his own direction after the accident that had killed our father, but even though he was now a few years out of college, it appeared he had no moral compass.
I snatched up the ringing phone impatiently. “Where in the fuck have you been?”
“Well, hell, I miss you, too, bro,” Sebastian answered sarcastically.
Dammit! I could tell he was either drunk or stoned, beyond the point where I could even talk to him. “Working. Something you don’t seem inclined to do.” My voice was clipped and angry.
I was pissed off, and I was done making excuses for Sebastian. He needed to grow the fuck up.
“Why should I when I have you to be the perfect, responsible brother who has everything under control? You’re a fucking god, bro. No need to have two of them in the family.” Sebastian’s voice was slightly slurred and filled with antagonistic sarcasm.
Sebastian wasn’t always this way, but the instances where he seemed inclined to irritate me were becoming more and more frequent. “When are you flying in for the holidays? Dane is going to be here the week before Christmas.” I didn’t feel like engaging with him in a verbal battle, not when he was like this. It was pointless.
My brother seemed to sober up slightly. “I’ll get there around the same time. I haven’t seen Dane for a while.”
Releasing the tight fist I was clenching on the desk, I remembered that at one time the three of us had been pretty tight. After the accident, things had never been quite the same. Dane was profoundly different, Sebastian had grown away from everybody in the family, and I had become a major prick because I had to run my father’s business, something I hadn’t been prepared for at such a young age.