Stepbrother Master(37)

“You didn't think it was weird last night. Or the night before that. Or any of the dozen or so times we've fucked in the last week,” Ford replied a little louder. He wasn't crowing about his conquest; there was no smirk on his face or in his voice. He seemed genuinely confused—and he started to get pissed.

My own anger flared up in response. Why didn't he fucking get it? After everything I'd just said, how could he still not understand? How could he not feel as creeped out as I was? Before I could stop myself, I snapped at him. “But that week's over, Ford! Our parents are back. We're a family now.” I gave a humorless bark of a laugh. “God, how screwed up is that? I let myself forget you're my stepbrother for a few days, but I can't do it anymore. Even if I wanted to, I just can't.”

“And do you want to?” His gaze seared into me.

“N-not with our parents right here in the house!” I quickly lied. Just like yesterday—and every day since I'd first laid eyes on Ford—I still burned for him. In my heart, I knew that last week had been more than a lapse in judgment. And if I was being brutally honest with myself, the way I felt about Ford went deeper than my body. No man had ever commanded me like he did or given me so much pleasure.

“So I was just one big mistake to you?” he demanded. His eyes narrowed and his jaw muscles bunched. He was full-on mad now—the kind of mad, I suddenly realized, that you only feel when you're in pain.

But it didn't make a difference. Even if it hurt both of us, I couldn't back down from this.

I swallowed the lump in my throat. “That's not the point. It would never work between us in the long-term. Our parents are married now and we need to start acting like a family. You're my stepbrother. I'm your stepsister.” I turned away to hide the stupid, illogical tears that pricked at my eyes. “I'm sorry, Ford. It was fun while it lasted, but … please go.”





Chapter 16


Ford





“Go? You just want me to go? That’s it. That’s how you’re going to end it. I get a little out of line at dinner, and you want to cut and run?” I shoved my hand through my hair and turned to face the door. I had to look away, had to pull my shit together before I said something I couldn’t take back. Normally, it wasn’t hard to keep myself locked down, but something about Emma had torn at my self-restraint from the very beginning.

I spun back around to face her, and part of me expected her to be smiling and laughing. Like her words had been a joke, and now she expected me pull her to the bed and put her over my knee for spouting off such bullshit. But her face was set in a cold, harsh mask. There wasn’t even a glimmer of the fun, sassy Emma I’d gotten to know. It was like staring at a stranger. And I fucking hated it. The words were out before I could call them back.

“So that’s how it’s going be then. Just like that.” A harsh chuckle escaped my lips at Emma’s sharp nod. “Guess it’s for the best anyway. It’s not like either of us really believes this marriage is going to last. You’ll be around for the summer, but then how much longer do you think your mom will realistically be here? I don’t even put odds on making it to a nice family Thanksgiving. So I guess we won’t have to worry about that being awkward.”

Emma’s face crumpled as she sucked in a breath, hunching over like I just punched her in the gut. She straightened just as quick, her temper flaring. “So you’re basically saying that my mom is no better than Celeste—out to hook a rich guy, take him for a ride, and get what she can out of him? Well guess what, Ford? It’s a good thing I decided to end it now, because it’s clear that you don’t know a goddamn thing about me or my mom. Now get the hell out of my room.”

Fuck this. I turned and reached for the door handle, ripping it open. I wanted to slam it shut, but knew I couldn’t risk attracting attention. I needed to get the fuck out of this house so I headed for the barn.

* * *

Long hours in the saddle gave a man plenty of time to think, and I rode far enough to have covered a lot of ground—both literally and figuratively. Avoiding the spots where I’d taken Emma hadn’t kept her out of my thoughts. If anything, I just thought about her more. And my conclusion? I might have fucked up. Big. I kept seeing the look on her face when I’d said that about her mom, and then her hunching over like she was in pain.

Shit.

I pulled up Richter, my gelding, and patted his neck. “Good boy.” We stopped in front of my favorite campsite. I’d found it by accident last spring. It had a rocky overhang, with a great view and a natural fire pit. I’d actually considered bringing Emma up here to spend the night, but we’d gotten so caught up with each other, and I didn’t want to let her out of my bed.