Andrew lets out a quiet sigh, shoulders slumping, then nods once before pushing his chair back and slouching out of the kitchen without another word.
Andrew didn’t really just do that, did he?Surely, he isn’t expecting anything to come of what happened between us. People have sex all the time and it doesn’t mean shit… hookups at clubs, one-night stands, bodies doing what bodies do when the heat gets too high. But another part of me feels guilty as hell. The rejection might have hurt him, and I know how Andrew gets with rejection,especiallyafter Lorna walked out. The last thing Iwant is for him to feel unwanted or like a waste of space again.
I run both hands down my face, exhaling sharply. Fucking hell.
On one side, the “punishment” actually seemed to work. These past couple of days Andrew has been behaving… helping with dinner, keeping the house clean, actually putting his dirty clothes in the laundry basket instead of leaving them scattered everywhere, and not blasting music at disrespectful levels. On the other hand, I don’t want him spiralling the way he did after his mom left. I don’t want him feeling like he’s disposable.
But how the hell do I tell him that without giving him the wrong idea? Because we can never…I can’t believe I’m even thinking it,but we can never be anything. Imagine the rumours in this small town. Everyone knows he’s my stepson and that Lorna left five years ago. If word got out that we were involved inanykind of relationship, the gossip mill would tear us both apart. No, absolutely not.
I’ve got my cars. And Andrew, apparently, has Cici.
I stare at the laptop screen without really seeing it, the weight of everything sitting heavy in my chest.
…
The hot water from the shower still clings to my skin as I step out into the hallway, a thick towel wrapped low around my waist and a smaller one draped over my shoulders. I scrub the towel roughly through my damp hair, water droplets sliding down my chest and back whileI head toward my bedroom. The house is quiet now, the kind of late-evening hush that usually settles in after nine.
I’m just reaching for my bedroom door when Andrew’s door swings open a few feet away. Before I can step inside and close it behind me, his hand shoots out, palm pressing firmly against the wood to stop it from shutting.
I sigh, low and tired. I haven’t spoken to him since that awkward conversation at the kitchen table hours ago, and the silence between us has felt heavier than usual.
Andrew shifts his weight, looking somewhere between nervous and determined. “Can…uh… Cici wants to know if she can stay the night?”
I don’t miss the way his eyes flick down, lingering on my bare, still-wet chest before darting back up to my face. The kid is checking me out while asking if his girlfriend can sleep over.How the fuck…?
“Yeah, I don’t care,” I mutter, keeping my voice even. “Just don’t let me hear anynoises.”
I emphasise the word, so he knows exactly what I mean without me having to spell it out… I don’t want to hear him having sex with his girlfriend in the next room.
Andrew’s face goes bright red instantly. He shakes his head quickly, eyes wide. “No… no, you won’t.”
“Good,” I say flatly.
I shove the door closed with my shoulder, forcing it shut despite his hand still pressed against the wood. The latch clicks firmly into place.
To be honest, I’m not thrilled about Cici staying the night. I like being able to wake up in the morning, shuffle downstairs in my old robe with my hair sticking up and bare feet on the cold floor, coffee in hand before I have to look presentable for the day. Having a young woman in the house means I’ll have to act like a civilized adult from the moment I open my eyes. No scruffy hair, no half-dressed wandering, no grumbling at the toaster.
I toss the towels onto the chair in the corner, pull on a clean pair of boxers, and climb into bed; the sheets are cool against my skin. I switch off the lamp, plunging the room into darkness, and stare up at the ceiling for a long moment. Hopefully I can just sleep.
Chapter Five
Andrew
The sheets feel too warm and too tight around me as I lie here in the dark, staring at the faint glow of the clock on the wall. It’s just past midnight. Cici’s curled into my side, her arm draped heavily across my chest, breathing slow and deep in sleep. She looks peaceful, completely satisfied after what we just did…I’m not.
I’m rock hard, aching, my cock throbbing after I faked my orgasm twenty minutes ago. That’s a first for me… faking it with her. But after what Slade showed me the other night, everything with Cici feels…vanillaand boring. I tried to change it up tonight, tried to be rougher, to pin her differently, to move her the way Slade moved me, but every time I shifted, she’d whisper “What are you doing?” or “It feels better when I’m on my back.” So, I gave up. I finished the way she likes, made the right noises, and now I’m lying here unsatisfied, frustrated, and guilty all at once.
I know I’ve been weird today. Bringing Cici home was half impulse, half stupid hope that Slade would get pissed, that he’d show that dominant side again… the one that pinned me down, cuffed me, and told me exactly what to do. I liked not having to think. I liked the way he took control and made the noise in my head go quiet for once. Instead, he just seemed bothered by the fact that he’d fucked me while I apparently had a girlfriend. For some reason I wanted him to tell me to break up with her. Iwantedhim to claim something.
I know it’s wrong. Slade is my stepdad… or at least he used to be. Technically he’s still married to my mom, but they’ve been separated for five years. In every way that matters, he’s just the guy I live with. The guy who stuck around when no one else did.
The thought twists in my head, turning into something deeper and darker than it should. When I think about Slade caring for me, my brain warps it… makes it feel like he cares in a way he’s not supposed to. Like he wants me the same way I suddenly want him.
I can’t lie here anymore. Carefully, I peel Cici’s arm off me. She’s a deep sleeper, so she barely stirs as I slide out of bed. I don’t bother getting dressed. I’m still completely naked, skin flushed and cock still hard, not really thinking this through at all. I just need… something…someone.
I slip out into the hallway, close my door quietly behind me, and take a deep breath. My heart is hammering as I reach for Slade’s door, turn the handle, and step inside. The room is pitch dark. I close the door softly, then walk over to the bed and click on the small lamp on his nightstand. Soft golden light spills across the sheets.
Slade’s fast asleep on his stomach, one arm tucked under the pillow, snoring lightly. The sight of his broad, bare back and the way the sheet has slipped low on his hips makes my mouth go dry. I know this is wrong… I shouldn’t wake him, not for this. I try to tell myself to turn around and leave, but I’msofucking horny right now it hurts.
