Stepbrother Master(22)

The sun crept high and slid down the sky again. When it was a thumb's width above the horizon, I realized that I'd probably stayed out too late already. I hurried back.

Just as sunset fell, my feet found the brick walkway leading to the house. Light glowed from the kitchen window, a friendly eye in the mansion's otherwise dark face. As I opened the front door, the rich smell of garlic, oregano, and tomatoes greeted me. I found Ford in the kitchen, stirring a huge pot of bubbling red soup.

“Did you make this?”

“Who the hell else is here?” he replied, his hand never pausing.

I walked closer to peek into the pot: clams, scallops, crab, mussels. My mouth watered. Living in California had given me a taste for seafood, and whenever I visited Mom in Napa, she always treated us to the best cioppino in town. When had I even mentioned that I liked this? How much did fresh shellfish cost in Montana? Most startling of all, why was Ford being so thoughtful? But what came out of my mouth was, “I didn't know you could cook.”

He looked up and snorted. “Somebody has to. I reached a good stopping point in my work, so I figured I'd make dinner for the next few days.”

I smirked at him. “A dinner which just so happens to be one of my favorite foods.”

“You're not the only Californian in the world. I grew up in Silicon Valley. Come stir this.” I stepped into his place as he started taking down bowls and wine glasses from the cupboards.

“That's a shame,” I said. “And here I was thinking that you'd decided to win my heart through my stomach.”

“Of course not. Haven't you ever heard 'candy is dandy, but liquor is quicker’? Which is why … ” He pulled a bottle of Riesling out of the fridge. “I brought this up from the cellar. Our parents shouldn't be the only ones getting some good wine right now.”

Are we flirting? Another thing I wouldn't have expected from Ford. He seemed more like the “so you wanna fuck or what?” type. Not quite that rude, exactly, but fast and straightforward. He didn't have time to play love games—and with his jaw-dropping looks—he didn't have to.

That's not the only reason this is weird, I forced myself to remember. Normal step-siblings wouldn't be talking to each other like this. Or having a fancy dinner for two, either.

Somehow, though, I couldn't bring myself to care too much. This was fun. I deserved to enjoy my last real summer vacation with my new stepbrother. The fact that we'd almost screwed yesterday was pure coincidence. If I brought that up, then I'd be the one making things weird.

Fuck it, I thought, and poured myself a glass of wine.





Chapter 10


Ford





“You bring a swimsuit?” I asked Emma as we finished washing and drying the dishes. All through dinner and clean up, we’d talked. Well, I’d flirted my fucking ass off. I hadn’t done that since … I couldn’t even remember. It was unsettling on some levels, but something about Emma just brought it out of me.

“Swimsuit?” She glanced over at me as she closed the cupboard door. She looked so damn … pretty in her pink skirt and white tank top. It was simple, but feminine. And it had kept my dick hard all through dinner. Well, that and her laugh. And her smile. Shit. What was happening to me? I met her eyes, determined to get myself back under control.

“Yeah, a swimsuit. For the hot tub. You know, a bikini?”

Her teeth sank into her lower lip. “Are you sure that’s a good idea?”

“Why wouldn’t it be?”

She shrugged. “I don’t know … I just thought…”

Interrupting, I said, “Emma, don’t think so much. Just go put on your suit.”

Her cute as hell chin lifted an inch. She opened her mouth, probably to argue, but I closed the space between us and lifted my thumb to her lips. “Please.”

Her throat worked as she swallowed, and she nodded slowly.

“Good girl.”

Emma left the kitchen, looking at me over her shoulder as she went. I opened the cupboard door she’d just shut and retrieved two wine glasses. Turning to the wine fridge, I selected a bottle of my favorite white. Sweeter than the one we’d had at dinner … and perfect for dessert. I headed upstairs to change into my swim trunks, fighting the urge to slow as I passed by Emma’s door. I wondered if she was debating over her choice of suit. I could picture her standing in front the dresser, telling herself that she shouldn’t pick the bikini just because I’d told her to. I was counting on her desire to please me to win out. She might not realize it, but her natural submissive tendencies were there, just waiting to be explored. I pushed my own door open, grabbed my swimsuit out of the dresser, and shucked my clothes in record time.