Stepbrother Untouchable Page 4

  “Technically speaking, does a Peeping Tom have to be outside, looking inside? Or does the term still apply if both, or all three, parties are outdoors?” he asks, calmly, tilting his chin up slightly as he considers me.

  “I…I don't…” I stammer, feeling heat crawl up the back of my neck.

  “You. Were. Watching us,” he accuses me, narrowing his eyes.

  “I'm sorry. I didn't mean to. I just…I was down at the river…how did you…?”

  “I heard a twig snap and saw you running away like a drunken ostrich.”

  “Did Dana—?”

  “No, and I didn't tell her.”

  “Thank god.”

  “So? What did you think?” He smirks.

  “Oh, I'm so sorry, again. I'm so embarrassed,” I rush on. It strikes me that this is the longest conversation I've ever had with my new stepbrother. And it's about how I'm a pervert. Fantastic.

  “Why were you watching us?” he asks, stepping forward into my room. I take another step away from him.

  “Um, I…I don't know. It just sort of happened. I didn't mean to.”

  “Liar,” he comments lightly.

  “Asshole.” It slips out before I can stop myself.

  He tilts his head slightly. “Prude,” he levels at me. I look down. Maybe I am a prude, but I don't want to be. “What's that?” he asks. When I look back up at him, I see him gazing past me, to my book on the bed.

  “Nothing, just a book,” I say, but he's breezing past me toward it. I hurry after him but he reaches the bed before me and picks up the book. “See?” I say defiantly.

  “I know what Lady Chatterley's Lover is about,” he says, looking at me with a smug grin. Shit. “Maybe not such a prude after all,” he adds, running his eyes up and down my body. I swallow hard. “You know what I think?” he asks, stepping toward me. I step away again, feeling one of the posts of my bed against my back. “I think you want me. I think you can barely contain yourself.”

  “That's mighty arrogant of you,” I comment. I begin to tug the ends of my hair nervously.

  “Why are you doing that?” He asks, frowning.

  “It's just a nervous habit,” I say with a shrug, and drop my hand.

  “So I make you nervous?”

  “No,” I reply quickly. “Just you being in here…”

  “I'm only arrogant if I'm wrong.”

  “Wrong about what?” I feel the urge to pull my hair again but don't want to give him the satisfaction.

  “Wrong about you wanting me. Let's give it a test—” he narrows his eyebrows, studying me. “I'm going to kiss you now, and all you have to do is tell me to stop.”

  “What? That's crazy. Not to mention you just fucked Dana, and now you expect me to kiss you?” I protest, but he steps toward me. I try to pull backward but I'm already pressed against my bedpost. Desire unfurls deep in my stomach as his eyes lock onto mine.

  “If it's crazy, just tell me to stop,” he whispers teasingly, and moves closer. His musky scent fills my nose and my mind begins to swim. I feel wetness trickling down my thigh as he curls his arms around me, grasping the bedpost with both hands behind my lower back. He's so close to me. I can feel heat radiating off him. His legs and chest sink against me and he moves his lips toward mine. Just a few inches between Nate Thornhill's mouth and mine. Now an inch. Now two centimeters…I can feel his warm breath against my partially open lips…

  “Stop.” I whisper.

  He freezes but doesn't pull away, as though he can't believe what he's just heard. Though truthfully, I'm marveling at my own restraint. I can feel his erection against my thigh—I know he wants me, too. Now I can beat him at his own game. I lean forward slightly, allowing my lips to brush against his as I speak, “Unless you don't want to.”

  His eyes, which were focused on my lips, flick back up to meet mine. I force myself to stay steady even as I'm consumed by the lust in his gaze. He stares at me for a moment, then pushes off the bedpost and steps back. He opens his mouth, about to say something, but nothing comes out. I remain pressed against the bedpost as he turns and moves toward the door. Without looking back, he shuts it behind him.

  I stumble forward and take a deep breath. It's like he takes all the air out of the room and I can't breathe when he's around.

  I can't believe I just rejected him. I'm stunned, but I also feel like giving myself a standing ovation. I just resisted the advances of Nate Thornhill, my fantasy of almost three years. I should win a willpower award. I knew that if I’d let him kiss me, I would forever lose any kind of power in our relationship. I'd be just be another pathetic girl who fell for his charms.

  Of course, the downside is that I'm more turned on than I've ever been in my life, and I'm alone with a book again. I sigh and crawl back onto my bed. I have a feeling that whatever is happening between me and my stepbrother, I haven't seen the end of it yet.

  CHAPTER SEVEN

  “I'm so happy there's another girl working here!” Constance says, swiveling around on her desk chair. She's my new cubicle mate, and one of only a handful of other interns at Thornhill and Co.

  “Ah, there. My Outlook is finally working,” I announce, opening the email system on my desktop.

  “So they'll want you to sign an NDA and stuff, but after, want to go to lunch?” she asks.

  “What's an NDA?” I turn to face her.

  “Non-disclosure agreement. There are a ton of Senators and big business types who come in here, and you can't tell anyone. Very important,” she says in hushed tones. She seems very pleased that she's snagged this coveted internship, which is probably why I haven't told her that I'm the boss's stepdaughter. I've never benefited from nepotism before, and it feels strange and uncomfortable to me now.

  “Oh. Well I'd love to get lunch later this week, but I'm having lunch with my friend Allison today. We go to UVA together, and she's got an internship at this urban planning place in Georgetown, so I'm going to meet up with her.”

  “Cool. Georgetown has really good shopping. I'd love to go with you sometime. Fashion is like, my side hobby, and you have a stylist's dream body.”

  “I don't think I—” I begin my canned response to a shopping invitation before I realize that maybe I can afford it. And Constance looks so perfectly chic in her patterned cardigan and statement necklace. “You know, that would be wonderful. I really don't know what to buy.”

  “Oh, I can help you with that. But careful not to wear anything too tight around Mr. Thornhill,” she adds, rolling her eyes.

  “What do you mean?” I ask with a frown.

  “Oh my god, who is that?” Constance asks, breaking away from our conversation to stand and peer over our cubicle wall. I join her to see Nate and Pierce walking down the hallway together toward the elevator bank. They must be having lunch together.

  “That's his son,” I reply, immediately sitting down again.

  “He looks like a Polo model!” Constance exclaims, sitting back down.

  “Um, what were you saying about Pierce—Mr. Thornhill—just then?”

  “Well, I've never had an issue, but maybe he's just not into Asian girls,” she says, throwing her black hair over her shoulder carelessly. “From what I've heard, though, he has a certain reputation.”

  “Oh, no,” I reply, worriedly tugging on my hair. Shit. Shit. I knew he was too good to be true.

  “Don't worry. From what I've heard, he's pretty harmless, he's just from a different generation when it comes to women around the office—especially young women,” she adds.

  “Mmhm,” I reply, my mind already spiraling into crisis mode.

  “You OK, Brynn?”

  “Maybe he's changed, though. I mean, he's married now,” I say, clinging to a speck of hope.

  “Yeah, I heard he got married.” She shrugs. “Could be. I don't think it's something that's been really recent or anything.”

  I nod, feeling slightly mollified. We both spin back to our computers as we hear footsteps approaching our cu
bicle. I glance up to see Pierce and Nate appear in the opening.

  “Brynn, this is going to sound awful,” Pierce begins, and I brace myself. “But Nate and I had plans to go to lunch, and we got down to the lobby before I realized how rude it was not to invite you along.”

  Phew. For a second I thought he overheard our conversation. “Oh, that's so nice, but I actually have lunch plans with my best friend from school, anyway.”

  “Oh I see…well, enjoy! There are some great restaurants around here. We just wanted to let you know you were invited,” Pierce says kindly, though from Nate's frown I'm guessing that it was more his idea than his son's. “Constance, right?” he says, turning to her.

  “Yes, that's right,” she squeaks.

  “Alright, well, we better get going or we'll be late for our reservation. See you at home!” Pierce says with a wave, and walks off with Nate in tow. Huh. I notice that Nate didn't say a single word to me. I guess he doesn't like being the one left wanting for once.

  “Why will Mr. Thornhill see you at home?” Constance says, slowly turning her desk chair to face me, a weird expression on her face.

  “Um, well, I'm his stepdaughter. He just married my mom.”

  Constance gasps and buries her face in her hands. “Oh my god, oh my god, I'm so fired. I'm fired, right?”

  “What? No! I don't have that kind of authority, I'm just an intern, like you.”

  “You're the boss's daughter, and I was just gossiping about him!”

  “Step-daughter, and I get it. If I'd heard rumors like that, I might want to warn other women I work with, too.”

  “But I don't even know if they're true, I'm so sorry,” she says miserably.

  “Really, it's OK. And I'm sorry that I didn't tell you earlier that I'm his stepdaughter. I just…you know, didn't want it to seem like it was the only reason I got the internship. I mean, I really do work very hard.”

  “Of course you do! Of course. Yes. I should get back to work,” Constance says, turning to her computer and beginning to type rapidly.

  “…And now I'm worried she's going to keep acting really weird around me,” I confide to Allison over a Caesar salad at Clyde's on M Street.

  “Do you think it's true?” she whispers, leaning over the table between us.

  “I don't know…I mean, maybe he was just a flirt, and it got blown out of proportion, you know?”

  “I bet that's what it is,” Allison says, nodding her head sagely. “Who knows how stories like that really get started? And once they're out there, you can't erase them.”

  “I hope that's what it is…I don't want to discount some woman's, or women's, experience just because it would be inconvenient for me, though, and painful for my mom. She would be so crushed if it were true.”

  “I wouldn't worry about it. And that girl said they were old stories, right?”

  “Right.”

  “And you said he treats your mom well, so I bet they're just ugly rumors.”

  “Yeah, yeah,” I reply, pushing the thought of Pierce's alleged misbehavior to the back of my brain. “How's the place you're staying at George Washington?” I ask, knowing she's taking advantage of a program at the nearby university to give summer interns a low-cost place to stay in an otherwise expensive city.

  “It's fine. My roommate's kinda loud, though. How's your new house?”

  “It's so big! I don't know why anyone would need that much space. I mean before my mom and I got there, it was just for two people. Well, three, including the maid.”

  “There's a maid?!”

  “There was. She doesn't live there anymore. Oh, and there's all this flagstone on it, so I thought it was old, but my mom said that Pierce had the house built around fifteen years ago. He must have spent a lot of money to make something so new look worn-in.”

  “You're lucky,” Allison says.

  “I know.”

  “How's the stepbrother? I don't know if I could live with a dumb jock.”

  “Well, Nate's not dumb. I've been in a few classes with him, and he's really smart. He was even waitlisted for a Lawn Room.”

  “You're a little defensive of him,” Allison observes, sipping her water.

  “Yeah, I guess so. I don't know why though. He's been playing these weird mind games with me.”

  “Mind games?” she repeats, frowning. I push a crouton around my plate as I think about how much to tell her. I have a feeling it's not the kind of situation she'd condone, but I also really want to talk to someone about what's been going on.

  “Well, you remember that I used to have a crush on him?”

  “Yeah, I remember you saying something about it sophomore year.”

  “I…I still have a crush on him. Or I think I do…I don't know. I'm definitely attracted to him, and he's aware of the fact. He can be really rude, and then last night, he almost kissed me, but he…”

  “Whoa, what? I mean, Brynn, he's your stepbrother.”

  “I know! But only for the last few weeks, and—”

  “OK…but what if you did kiss? What then? You'd have to see him every day, because your mom and his dad are married. And then even if you weren't living together, what about holidays? You'd be cutting the Thanksgiving turkey and sitting across from the guy you'd made out with…for every Thanksgiving.”

  “Ugh, you're right,” I reply, dropping my fork and covering my face with my hands. This is why I didn't want to tell Allison—she'd throw logic in the face of my hormones. But the truth is, she's right. I feel like a bucket of cold water has just been poured over my head. “You're right,” I repeat. “I can't believe I even let it get this far.”

  I head back to the office after lunch and spend the rest of the afternoon sitting in an awkward silence with Constance. I try to get her to engage about online shopping, but she only offers me one-word responses. Later in the day I meet another intern named Greg, a cute, strawberry-blonde guy who blushes when I look him in the eye. He is more the kind of person I should be looking to date. I just wish I felt that same rush that I do whenever I'm around Nate.

  I drive home just after six in the old Audi that was just sitting in the Thornhill's garage. It's definitely the most expensive car I've ever driven, and it's fun to really let out the engine on the short stretch of the Beltway on my way back to Potomac. I park in the garage and let myself in to the small anteroom off the kitchen, where I kick off my shoes.

  “Mom?” I call out, before spotting her outside on the back lawn, talking on the phone as the sun sets behind her. I head upstairs with my tote bag still over my shoulder. The huge house is silent as I walk up the steps and down the hallway. Nate must still be at his internship. My mom told me he got one at some think tank downtown.

  I drop my bag as I walk into my bedroom and push the door almost closed behind me with my foot. I can't wait to get this skirt off. It's my one pencil skirt, and it's a little itchy around my waist.

  I step into the bathroom and turn on the elegant faucet in the sink. I tie my hair behind my head with a loose elastic and splash some cool water on my skin. First days are always exhausting, but I think today was unusually so. As I look back up to my reflection, dripping with water, I see something move in the mirror. I stare at it blankly, not understanding what I'm seeing. The mirror above the sink is reflecting the mirror above my vanity in the bedroom, which is in turn reflecting an image from my partially open bedroom door. It's Nate, I realize. He's standing outside my door, and he doesn't realize I can see him.

  I look down at the sink, pretending to watch the last of the water as it swirls down the drain. A shiver of excitement runs through me at the idea that Nate could actually be interested in me—I mean, he's there, right now, watching me. Before I process what I'm doing, before I can think of all the reasons not to, I slowly move my hands to my lower back and undo the clasp at the top of the zipper, then unzip my skirt. I let it fall in a pile at my feet, then step out of it. I look up carefully and Nate is still there in the double reflection.
>
  Allison's warning echoes through my mind but I keep going. I feel high, high on the feeling that I'm actually desired. I catch hold of the back of my rather shapeless blouse in my hands and pull it up over my head, then toss it onto the floor. As I look back in the mirror, I try to imagine what someone else might see when they look at me, without my constant negative interior monologue telling me nasty things about myself. Do I have the kind of body that someone like Nate could find attractive?

  Now down to my bra and underwear, I begin to feel nervous, but I reach up to unclasp my bra. I feel the straps loosen on my shoulders and bring my hands forward to catch it as it falls.

  “Brynn? You home?” I hear my mom call from the foyer. I freeze, holding the bra against my breasts. I glance up. Nate is gone.

  “Yup, I'm home!” I yell back.

  “I saw your shoes! I'm coming up—I want to hear all about your first day.” I hear her footsteps on the staircase and hurriedly refasten my bra. Nothing like your mom's voice to kill your libido.

  CHAPTER EIGHT

  The next couple weeks of my new life seem to pass rather quickly, mostly due to the fact that Nate is always out with his friends after work, and our run-ins have been few and far between. I've settled into a routine of sorts, even if I still don't feel like I'm at home here.

  I’d gone to bed early last night, with the intention of sleeping in this morning before visiting museums with Allison later in the day. However a loud noise from downstairs awakens me—I stare bleary eyed at my alarm clock, it’s only 6:15am. Who'd be awake this early on a Saturday morning?

  I get out of bed and tiptoe to my door. I open it a little and hear something shuffling around downstairs. I tiptoe out into the hallway and see everyone’s bedroom doors are closed. I know there's an alarm system—I had to memorize the passcode. Maybe an ungainly mouse is exploring? I creep down the staircase and through the dining room. The noises sounded like they were coming from the kitchen. The swinging door is open, and I peak my head around it, my heartbeat blasting in my ears.