Vulture (a Stepbrother Romance) -(31)

I shouldn’t have kissed her again.

I shook the thought aside and chuckled beneath my breath. What was I worrying about, anyway? Sara was not my type. It was only natural for a man to react in such a way while lying in bed with a woman—wasn’t it? Of course it was.

Yes. Sara will never be my type. She’s the complete opposite of what I want.

More shouting from above caught my attention. Enough was enough. I’d given Sara enough time to grow a backbone and stand up to her sister. I reached the stairs and took the steps in two as I climbed until I reached the brash, angry voices.

I craned my head to hear Anita screaming at Sara. Her tone was harsh and cruel, and I didn’t like it one bit.

“You should be ashamed of yourself!” Anita called out.

My hands balled into a pair of fists, and I saw a flash of red. Why Anita caused this reaction in me I don’t know. Or maybe it was more obvious than that… maybe it wasn’t Anita at all that was provoking the reaction, maybe it was Sara.

Finally, Sara shouted back, and I smiled.

Anita came storming out of Sara’s room, her footsteps loud and livid. Behind her the door slammed shut, and the click of a lock sounded.

Anita walked past me and seemed to take a breath as she noticed me standing in the middle of the landing.

She glared at me with her red face. Her cheeks puffed out and her breathing was ragged, as if she’d run a marathon and couldn’t seem to catch her breath.

“You causing trouble again?” I asked, holding back what I really wanted to say.

“Me? I’m not the one missing funerals! Go talk some sense into her. She’s clearly needing a touch of reality.”

“That’s not what Sara needs right now, Anita. You of all people should know that.” I held my hand up as she started to open her mouth again. “She needs support, not your bloody abuse.”

“Fuck you, Harvey. You go and support her then. She’s acting like a spoiled brat, and I’m the one in the wrong?”

“There’s more going on with her than you realise. And I know you’re grieving, too, but she’s been hit hard these last months, so why don’t you get off your high moral horse and have some fucking compassion for the person you shared a womb with?”

“I don’t have to stand here and listen to this.” Anita began to march down the stairs, her back turned to me.

“You’re right. Why don’t you fuck off, Anita! I’m sure Sara will call you if she ever wants to speak to you again.”

I sighed and closed my eyes. I hadn’t meant to turn on full-on offensive mode, but I couldn’t help it.

Rubbing a throbbing spot around my temple, I knocked on Sara’s bedroom door, and I heard a faint rustling in the background.

“Sara,” I said, “it’s me.”

“Go away, Harvey,” she grumbled.

“I’m not going to do that. You have to come out of this room or I’ll burst in. Your choice.” It was low of me to make such threat, but if anything, Anita was partially right. Sara did need some talking to.

“You have till the count of three, Sara,” I warned.

“Just leave me alone!”

“One.”

“I’m serious! Go away!” she responded, though her voice sounded unsure.

“So am I. Two.”

“Don’t even think about it—” she cried. I turned, facing away from the door and donkey kicked at its weak spot. The flimsy lock gave way after a few hard kicks.

“Harvey! What the hell…?”

I grinned; there was nothing like acting like a crazed caveman to get me all worked up. I walked towards her, ready to grab her out from under the covers she’d buried herself beneath. “I warned you.”

“But I didn’t think you were actually going to do it,” she said in a muffled voice. Only her eyes were visible; her body was covered, nowhere in sight.

“You can’t stay in here forever, Sara,” I said, as I searched under the duvet, ready to grab a limb the moment I found one.

“I know,” she muttered quietly but then squealed and kicked her legs as I found and claimed an ankle.

“Stop squirming!” I yelled as I managed to get control of her other foot. I pulled, and half her body, the upper half, disappeared beneath the sheets, while the other half, her legs, were dragged out across the bed.

“Let me go, Harvey!” Sara screamed. She managed to twist and turn her body so that she was now on her stomach, and her hands took hold of the edge of the mattress. I pulled, and she hung on.

I had a perfect view of her round bottom, tight in her little pyjama shorts. I ran the tip of my tongue across my bottom lip.

“Don’t make me spank you, Sara,” I growled, wanting nothing but.