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He lazily grabbed a jar of wax out of the cabinet and started styling his inky black hair to the front, making some sort of thick and healthy fresh-out-of-bed tuft. Slowly, his gray eyes that looked even lighter with the lamps on locked with mine in the reflection.
“I said get out,” I repeated impatiently.
Thick, black brows rose in question. “What’s the point in that? I’m already late.”
Who cared where he had to go? Who befriended an inconsiderate asshole like him, anyway?
“Well, couldn’t you at least have waited until I was finished?”
“Nope.”
That was it. No explanation. Just shutting me up with one word.
I rolled my eyes and hoped the chances on a nipple slip were nil.
He frowned, looking at his own reflection, his mouth agape in complete concentration while fiddling with his hair. Then his tongue darted out, fixated on the corner of his mouth when he made it stick up at the front. A freshly-fucked haircut. The asshole wore it well.
Gray eyes so bright they almost looked silver and straight, jet-black hair that was long and unruly on top. A black nose ring I thought I didn’t see him wear an hour ago, and a piercing in one of his nipples. Tattoos slithered around his well-built arms and went over in another canvas on his chest. He didn’t have the body of a boy that used the home gym every day, but that skin full of body art sure clung around those muscles in a very fine way. They wrapped around his them in a way I could imagine girls would want to.
Huh, where were those muscles when he ignored my arrival and the heavy suitcase I had to carry up three flights of stairs?
Alone.
Cary hadn’t only named them after Greek Gods, he’d also recreated them. While their looks were swoon-worthy, I had yet to factor in their still to be determined personalities. After five minutes in their house, it didn’t look too good.
My new stepbrothers looked and acter like a real rockstar’s son. Groupie-style—hot and unavailable and questioning promises to add to your list of mistakes later.
I shook my head, clearing it from these indecent thoughts. I’d been staring at him, and he’d been freaking aware of it. That haughty smirk on his face was proof. Confidence dripped off him as if he’d invented it which—obviously—made him presume he had the privilege of not giving a shit and break his promise not to interrupt my bath.
“I thought about redesigning this bathroom and getting rid of that tacky tub.” His low voice startled me. “But then again, it looks way better with you in it.” He winked, then sprayed some cologne over his bare chest and wrists before turning around and giving me a thorough once over, focusing on my chest for far too long.
On second thought, I decided he was just a jerk.
I was truly appalled. Who looked like that at a stranger? His stepsister, who had asked for a whole lot of privacy, nonetheless.
“Are you really going to ignore me sitting here?”
A cold shiver ran down my spine when he cupped his tenting crotch and tilted his head as his full lips tweaked into a smirk. “Oh, Dita, do I look like I’m ignoring you?”
No, he did not. He looked like he’d wanted to haul me out of the tub and watch my expression in the mirror while he hate-fucked me against the counter.
The promise in those wolf-like eyes—
Belonged to my ill-mannered stepbrother.
I squeezed my legs tighter and pretended as if the heat in my belly hadn’t occurred.
Great, I was as unhinged as he was.
He must’ve noticed because a low chuckle vibrated menacingly through the steamy room.
“Dita, Dita, Dita.” My name sounded like sin. And then… he poured a figurative bucket of ice over my head. “Are you still such a prude at twenty-five?”
His gaze roamed lavishly over my body. I shrank, feeling vulnerable, violated, and a whole lot of embarrassed.
“Are you still that childish at twenty-two?” I countered weakly.
He huffed a laugh while he condescendingly looked down at me and walked over to sit down on the edge of the tub. Cornered, I wanted to crawl into a spiky ball like a hedgehog and scare him off with my spines. But I couldn’t, and so I swallowed the fear.
