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He swallowed hard, lifting his head, and our eyes met for a long, charged moment.
“Mine,” he growled.
Then he swiped the bowl of strawberries from the sink and stalked out of the room, leaving me there fucking speechless and with a raging boner.
* * *
I had a text later on, after I’d had the most frustrating wank of my life. Frustrating, because my dick did not seem to get the message that Cole was not only a fucking asshole, but he was also my stepbrother and therefore completely off limits, even if hell had frozen over and he had been someone I was remotely into.
Cole:
FYI my mum texted to say she’s going to call at 8pm our time. Do you want me to tell them about the accident?
Me:
No. NO. Do not say anything. The insurance is paying for repairs and it’s in my name. If my dad finds out, I will fucking make you pay
Cole:
Chill. Smoke some weed. Seems like you need it
I fucking hated this asshole. Just to piss him off, I sent him a picture of my empty bowl with strawberry leaves inside. After he’d left the kitchen, I’d taken the rest of the strawberries from the fridge and eaten them up in my room. They were my favourite fruit, and yet the experience of eating them had been ruined for me because every time I bit into one, I had a vivid image of him taking the strawberry from my hand with his teeth, his tongue swiping across my fingers. That had led to my dick getting even harder, hence my frustrating wank.
A minute later, my phone buzzed again, and I opened it up to find a picture that immediately made my blood boil. Cole was reclining on his bed, a joint between his lips, smoke curling lazily through the air. He’d included the caption, “Thanks for rolling this. Saved me a job”.
The bastard had stolen that from my stash.
So what if I’d had a few of his strawberries? He had to have gone digging through my drawers to find that, and that was a total violation of my privacy.
That was fucking it. Ignoring the pain from my bruises as I launched myself to my feet, I stormed out of my bedroom and down the hallway to confront my stepbrother.
9
Ismiled to myself as I sent the selfie to Huxley. He was going to lose his shit, and I couldn’t wait. It was time to get us back on an even footing after that weird-as-fuck moment in the kitchen. What had I been thinking? I fucking ate that strawberry from his fingers like we were in a bad porno. I wasn’t sure who had been the most shocked—him or me.
Predictably, there was a crash—Huxley’s bedroom door opening—followed by footsteps stomping down the hall.
“Hi, brother.” I waved the joint at him, and I could almost see the steam pouring from his ears. His blue eyes were dark with rage, highlighted by the purple bruising around them, and his fists were clenched as he stormed over to my bed. Before he could take a swing at me, which I justknewhe was about to do, I quickly set the joint down on the small plate I was using as a temporary ashtray-slash-burn protection thing and then threw my body into a lying position. With the mattress there to absorb the blow, the punch wouldn’t hurt as much. And as much as I wanted to fight back, I had to remind myself that Huxley had only very recently been in a car accident, so for now, I had to bide my time. Incapacitate him in the least painful way possible. Then give him the beating of his life when he was all recovered.
My sudden move caught him off guard, and his fist encountered empty air as he swung at where I had been just a second earlier, making him fall forwards. He threw his hands out to brace his fall, one landing on the bed right next to my head, the other landing on my shoulder, twisting it down into the mattress.
Despite being caught off guard, he recovered quickly, moving to straddle me on his knees and delivering a solid punch to my stomach, making me gasp. “You fucking bastard,” he snarled. “I wish you’d just—”
All my good intentions went out of the window as I reacted on instinct, even though the air had been knocked out of me. Bucking my body up to throw him off, I shoved hard at his bruised torso. He howled in pain, falling to the side and smacking his back into the wall. I felt bad for about two seconds until he threw himself back onto me, his nails scraping down my bare arms. A sound came from my throat that was halfway between a cry and a shout. His nails were short, but it still fucking stung as they dug into my skin. I grabbed a handful of his stupid bleached hair and yanked as I got my legs around him.
“Fucking get…off,” he panted as I held him in place, throwing my arms around him to stop him from using his own arms as leverage…or to hurt me again.
“Why the fuck would I do that?” I kicked the back of his shin with my heel as hard as I could. It probably didn’t hurt much, but if it pissed him off more, it was a bonus.
His head raised, and for a moment, that bruised, hate-filled stare was so close to mine I could have counted his individual eyelashes. If I’d wanted to. His breath ghosted across my skin, and I smelled strawberries.
Mystrawberries. “You ate my fucking strawberries. I can smell them on your breath.”
“Well, I can smell my fucking weed all over you,” he ground out, and then he dropped his head.
Then, teeth were sinking into my throat, and the sudden shock and pain meant my grip on him loosened. He scrambled upright, breathing hard, and I just stared up at him, open-mouthed. “Youbitme? What the fuck?”
“I’ll do a lot worse than that when I’ve recovered.” His tone was a low, threatening rasp, and fucking hell, the sound went straight to my dick.
