Out of Line: A Bad Boy Stepbrother Romance Read online

  The invitations and place cards were handmade by me. They’re folded ivory cardstock embossed on the front with seashells and decorated with twine, starfish, and pearls. Burn marks from the glue gun still cover the insides of my fingers.

  Because Chelsea is the more outgoing of the two of us, and because we’re joined at the hip, everyone has been congratulating her for the wonderful job she’s done. She’s been sweet enough to say it was all my doing, but Chelsea getting all the credit is the story of my life.

  I’m not jealous by any means. She had a hard time after her mom died, and her dad got way overprotective, which meant she couldn’t breathe the wrong way without him coming down on her.

  Two years ago, after a huge family fight, Chelsea’s brother, aka he who shall not be named, aka the guy who fucked me then forgot me walked away from his family for good.

  He hasn’t RSVP’d, and I’m glad he isn’t coming. Sort of.

  “You all ready for your new job?” Chelsea asks.

  “All packed and raring to go.” For the first time since we met, we’re spending the summer apart. The day after the wedding, I leave for my nannying job. For the next two months, I’ll be living in New York looking after a six-year-old girl and a four-year-old boy. Usually, I’m a camp counselor for Camp Breakout—a getaway for underprivileged kids—with Chelsea, but one of my mom’s friends in the Hamptons was desperate for a nanny, so I said I’d help her out.

  Wesley is taking my place at the camp this year. I’ll miss Camp Breakout and the kids, but I’m looking forward to a summer at the pool and at the beach with two kids to care for instead of ten at a time.

  I’m also ready to be known for who I am and not just as Chelsea’s best friend.

  I glance in her direction. Her head is buried in her phone, and she’s giggling to herself. I wouldn’t be surprised if Wesley sent her a dick pic—another one. He sends at least one every day—two on holidays. I think she’s considering making herself a calendar for Christmas.

  Wesley and the other Wildcats are on the beach setting up the chairs for tomorrow’s ceremony. This time last year, had Coach Thompson known his new quarterback was dating his daughter (and by dating, I mean screwing), he would have blown a gasket, but Wesley is one of the good guys. He proved that.

  A lot of things happened last year with the Wild Cats, especially when a trouble-making player named Christian went crazy, but Wesley helped smooth everything over. After that, Coach accepted that Wesley was good enough for his daughter. They make a cute if a somewhat puke-inducing couple.

  I can’t believe tomorrow we’ll become sisters. Even though we’ve been inseparable since we were kids, she’ll officially be my family, and sometimes we fight like sisters do, but we always make up.

  Without her by my side over the years pushing and encouraging me, I would’ve become a nerd with no friends. My mom even calls Chelsea her fourth daughter.

  Tomorrow, me, both of my sisters— Shayla and Becca— and my sister from another mister, Chelsea, are all part of the wedding party.

  My younger sisters are bridesmaids, with Chelsea taking on the role of maid of honor, and because my mom’s dad passed away a few years ago, Mom asked me to give her away.

  Walking her down the aisle without bawling my eyes out will be next to impossible. For so long—too long—it’s been me, my sisters and our mom. The four musketeers—one for all and all for one. I’m happy for her, truly I am. God knows she deserves someone who loves her.

  I remember little about my dad, but I do remember him yelling at us all the time and making us cry.

  The last day I saw him, he told me I was a useless mistake. Something I’ve spent my entire life proving wrong by overachieving in every area of my life. There’s only one time when I’ve truly fucked up, and that was with Chelsea’s brother.

  Mom didn’t date much when we were growing up, and if she did, she kept her boyfriends away from us. She didn’t have to do that, but her life was all about protecting her girls.

  I glance at the table reserved for immediate family. Maybe I should make a space for Aaron just in case. Before I can stop myself, the words are out of my mouth.

  “Anything from Aaron?” Even saying his name gives me butterflies, but I swallow hard and kill each and every one of them.

  I don’t want to think about him. I don’t want to remember how his body felt against mine. I don’t want to remember how his tongue felt between my legs. How it felt when I screamed his name. How it felt when he gave me my first orgasm.

  I busy my shaking hands by wiping imaginary grains of sand from the tables. I might not want to think about all those things, but I do--and often.

  “No,” she says with a sigh, “and I don’t expect to. I wish he’d come, but he won’t. He and Dad… well, you know.”

  “When was the last time you talked to him?”

  “Christmas— or was it Thanksgiving? He wasn’t very chatty. Why do you ask?”

  “Just want to make sure that my seating plan won’t get messed up if he decides to show.”

  Chelsea snorts. “Not going to happen. Trust me. He hasn’t come to a family function since the fight. He’s hardly going to show up for Dad’s wedding.”

  “Yeah. I guess you’re right,” I say, doing my best to hide my disappointment.

  Chelsea leans her hip against a table and goes back to her phone.

  What if he does show up? What then? Ever since that night on the beach, I haven’t slept with another guy. I haven’t even accepted any dates, even though I’ve been asked.

  Why? Because, in my experience, men are users. But I can hand-on-heart swear that Aaron didn’t take advantage of me. He might have used me, but I used him too. From the day my hormones kicked in, I’d crushed on him hard. One day he was Chelsea’s annoying older brother. The next day he was the hottest guy in the world.

  I spent way too many nights during my teens dreaming about being his girlfriend. And the night after graduation, I went out of my way to flirt with him. I wanted to sleep with him. I wanted him to take my virginity. And he did.

  He’d come back for Chelsea’s graduation. He was a college sophomore and was making waves in football. His name was everywhere. Although, some people were still pissed at him for not committing to Calton.

  When he showed up, his hair was all sun bleached, his chin scruffy, his skin had a golden hue and as for his muscles— Lord— his biceps strained the stitching on his t-shirt.

  Every girl in the graduating class wanted him, but I was the one who got him…and then lost him. Not that he was ever really mine to begin with.

  He had no clue I was a virgin when he brought me to the beach. He only realized after he put the condom on and entered me for the first time.

  A small groan escapes my lips at the memory of the burning pleasure as he slid in deep, whispering my name.

  Afterward, we fell asleep by the fire wrapped in each other’s arms. When I woke the next morning, he was gone. The bastard didn’t even wake me up to say goodbye. What a jerk.

  That was the last time I saw or heard from him. Seeing him on TV playing football doesn’t count.

  I take the last few wine glasses from the box sitting by the tent flap and set them on the table being used for the bar.

  Standing back, I admire my work. Perfect. Perfect. Perfect.

  “Should I let everyone know we’re almost ready?” Chelsea asks, lowering her phone.

  “Two more minutes,” I say, once more casting a critical eye around the tent.

  Chelsea comes over and wraps her arms around me. “Everything’s great, and everyone’ll love it. Promise me you’re going to allow yourself to relax and enjoy all the work you put in.”

  “Am I being overbearing again?” I groan and then grimace. “You can tell me.”

  She stands back and places her hands on my shoulders. “You’re being a little OCD and, yes, overbearing.”

  “Sorry.”

  “You can’t control everything, Tay. Some
times you gotta let things go.”

  “This coming from the woman who throws a hissy fit if anyone gets a routine wrong.”

  She laughs hard. “Cheer is very different. It’s life or death. You’d better believe those bitches better not get a routine wrong.” Chelsea’s dream is to cheer for the NFL and if anyone can make it, she can. Nothing gets in her way when it comes to cheerleading. It’s her life. Her passion. Not mine. Not anymore. I don’t think it ever was.

  Her phone rings and she immediately answers. I can see from the screensaver, it’s Wesley. God forbid he goes more than ten minutes without hearing her voice.

  While I like cheering, and I love the girls, it’s not my life. Recently, I’ve been thinking about what I want to do. Dance and cheer have been part of my life for so long, but I want to find out what else is out there.

  I’ve dropped hints to my mom about changing my major from Latin American Literature to interior design, but she’s been so busy that we haven’t talked about it in depth.

  If I tell Chelsea I’m ready to quit cheer, she’ll throw a wobbler or break down. My dream is design, but I’m not sure which area I’d like to specialize in.

  I have a good eye, or at least I think I do, and I think my mom will support me. The reason I never pursued art and design earlier is because it’s something I got from my dad.

  He, from what I remember, was the clichéd tortured artist. Mom said he was frustrated because he wasn’t good enough, and that’s another reason I never pursued it or gave into my need to create. As well as worrying about disappointing my mom, I’m worried I’m not good enough. What if the art department tells me “thanks but no thanks”?

  I’m afraid. Everyone would be surprised if they knew how much of a coward I really am. No one would ever guess that by looking at me. To the outside world, I’m an over-achiever, OCD Taylor. Perfect at everything she does. The reason I’m perfect at everything I do is because I never try something I know I won’t be good at. If I did and failed, people would see me for the fraud I really am.

  Don’t get me wrong, I’m no angel and have done some stupid and crazy things when my mom wasn’t around. Like inviting the entire high school football team and cheer squad over for a kegger. That stunt cost me my car for the entire summer and a ten o’clock curfew the whole way through senior year.

  Other than stupid stuff like that when I was younger, I pretty much did, and still do, toe the line. I don’t party, do drugs, or sleep around.

  Chelsea hangs up her phone. “Ready?”

  “Hold on.” I pick up a wine glass and hold it up to the light. “This has a smudge. Crap.”

  The tent flaps open, and both Chelsea and I look to see who’s dared come into the tent without my say so.

  The glass I’m holding falls to the floor and shatters.

  “No fucking way,” Chelsea screams, glee filling her voice, and she barrels forward.

  My nipples harden, and my panties dampen.

  No fucking way is right.

  Chapter 3

  Aaron

  “Quite a welcome,” I say, hauling Chelsea into a bear hug. “Good to see you, too, sis.” She might be happy to see me now, but I give it two hours before we start getting on one another’s nerves.

  Taylor looks like she’s about to keel over. She was a beautiful girl when I left, if a bit skinny, but now she’s filled out in all the right places—tits, hips, and ass. I’d kill to get my hands on those curves, and I will get my hands on them.

  Right now, her small nose is turned up in disgust, and her cupid’s bow lips are narrowed into a thin slash that look nothing like the pouty lips I once enjoyed kissing. As for her eyes, they’re darker than the ocean beneath a stormy summer sky.

  My gaze slides lower to the dress she’s wearing. A dress that leaves nearly nothing to my imagination. It’s a floaty summer thing covered in flowers, almost see-through with low-cut cleavage.

  I lower Chelsea to the ground.

  “What are you doing here?” my sister asks.

  I hook my arm around her shoulder. “What? A guy can’t come to watch his dad marry the woman of his dreams?” My words sound caustic and bitter. I don’t mean them to, but I can’t seem to control the tone of my voice.

  “I can’t believe you just showed up like this, you jerk. Not even a phone call? Taylor and I busted our asses to make this perfect for our dad and her mom.” She’s acting like she’s pissed, but she’s not really. “And here you come waltzing in like no time has passed.”

  “You’ll get over it.” I turn my attention to Taylor, a smile playing on my lips. “How are you, Tay?”

  “I guess I’m good. Surprised, I guess. I guess it’s good you’re here.” She swipes the side of her shoe along the broken glass, moving it into a pile. “I guess I should clean this mess up.”

  I chuckle at her nervousness. “I guess you should.”

  “I’ll go get a brush,” Chelsea offers. “You,” she says, turning to me, “stay here and pick up the glass. I’ll get Dad, too. He’ll freak.”

  I bet he will, but not in a good way. “Maybe now isn’t the best time. I don’t want to start anything.”

  She gives her eyes a dramatic roll. “It’s better he sees you for the first time in here rather than in front of everyone.”

  “Yeah,” I agree, but I’m doubtful. Chelsea flounces out of the tent, leaving me alone with Taylor.

  I saunter towards her, loving the way her throat works and how hard she swallows when I get close.

  “It’s been a while,” I say.

  She gives me a hard stare and her nostrils flare, but in a cute way. “Is that what you say to all the girls you fuck then flee from? You left me on the beach on my own and didn’t so much as say “thanks” for the fuck.”

  “So, you still think about me,” I say, taking another step toward her.

  She steps back and bumps up against the table so hard, the wine glasses shake. She pauses before she answers. “No, I don’t. You never crossed my mind. Not once.”

  I don’t miss the lie in her eyes, and I take another step until I’m close enough to kiss those plump red lips of hers. “I’ve taken a few psychology electives and I’m pretty good at seeing when someone is lying. There are certain tells. You want to know what those tells are?”

  She lowers her face and shakes her head.

  “Lying again. You’re avoiding my gaze, your pulse rate is fast, and your breathing is erratic.”

  She blinks fast and swallows hard. “You’re so full of shit I can smell it coming from your pores.”

  I laugh, and I can’t help but reach up and run my thumb over her plump bottom lip. She closes her eyes and sighs, but then her eyes snap open, and she looks like she’s just woken up from a daydream.

  “Don’t you dare touch me,” she spits. “You have absolutely no right to invade my space. And stop flirting.”

  I step back and hold up my hands. “You’re right. I’m sorry. But what if we could have one more night together before we become siblings? Before you become my sister. We could relive that night on the beach.”

  Her pupils dilate, and she inhales sharply.

  “I’m going to let you in on a secret,” I say. “I jerk off to thoughts of you. I wrap my hand around my cock and pump hard until I explode. Wanna know what sends me over the edge?”

  The tip of her tongue slicks over her lips.

  “The memory of you crying my name when you came on my mouth.”

  “You’re a disgusting pig.” She pushes me out of her way and goes towards the entrance to the tent “Stay the fuck away. I’m not interested.”

  “Sure you’re not.” This could definitely turn out to be a weekend to enjoy and not endure.

  As she stomps out of the tent, my dad and Chelsea walk in. Or I should say, Chelsea walks, my dad storms.

  Dad’s narrowed eyes take me in, from head to toe and back again. He slides his hands into the pockets of his dress khakis. The old man looks good. A hell of a lot bette
r than the last time I saw him. He’s put on weight, and his face isn’t as haunted.

  “Aaron,” he simply says.

  “Dad,” I say in return.

  “Can’t say I’m not surprised to see you. It’s been a while. How’s your shoulder?”

  “I’m getting by.”

  He nods. “You’re not exactly dressed for tonight.”

  “Last minute decision to come here,” I admit.

  Dad purses his lips in thought and then nods. “Since you’re here, you might as well stay.”

  “That was my plan.” I wasn’t expecting a welcome with open arms, but I also wasn’t expecting him to act like I’d killed someone. “Thanks for the warm invitation.”

  He makes a move to leave the tent, but before he does, he says, “Whatever you said to upset Taylor, apologize. She’s busted her ass to make this wedding a success. If you think you’re going to ruin anything for me, your sister, Sherry, or her girls, you’re in for a rude awakening.”

  I want to go back at him so much it hurts my gut. I want to fling words and insults, but I see the fear in Chelsea’s eyes. The one I saw every time dad and I got into it. I don’t want to hurt her, so I swallow my words.

  “Don’t worry, Dad, I’ll be on my best behavior.”

  He nods again, but I can tell he doesn’t believe a word I say.

  “I’m so glad you came,” Chelsea says, reaching out to squeeze my hand. “We have a lot to catch up on.”

  “Thanks, sis.”

  Chelsea and my dad leave the tent, and when they do, I let out a loud breath. In the grand scheme of things, it could have gone a lot worse.

  The one shining light in this shit show is how much Taylor wants me. My proposition interested her. Shocked her, maybe, but definitely interested her. For one more night, I’ll make her mine so that for the rest of her life when she closes her eyes to sleep, I’m the one she’ll dream about.

  I leave the tent and go out to the lawn where everyone is drinking cocktails and making small talk.