Chapter 20 Scarlett
SCARLETT
I didn’t sleep a wink.
Every time I think about last night, my body grows warm, and my heart beats harder.
After Cross left, I lay awake in bed for hours. It was nearly three in the morning when I heard him stomping up the stairs again. I pretended to be asleep because I wasn’t sure what else to do, but I felt his presence in the doorway.
He stood there for so long I finally peeked one eye open, only to see his backside disappear down the hall to his own room.
Now, here I am, in our kitchen, pouring myself a cup of coffee with a shaky hand.
What were we thinking?
Better yet…why can’t I stop?
He’s my stepbrother. Our parents are married, and to most people, marriage is forever. That means Cross will always be in my life, one way or another.
I sip on my coffee and scroll my phone, wondering if maybe I should try to hook up with someone else—on my terms, of course. Someone that I trust. Someone who won’t spike my drink, and take advantage of me, and listen if I say no.
Someone who isn’t Cross.
A raspy clearing of a throat makes me jump. Coffee splashes out from the top of my mug, scalding my hand before landing on the counter.
“Shit,” I curse.
Cross moves to stand beside me and peers down at my mess. He says nothing. Instead, he reaches past me for the coffee pot, our arms nearly skimming.
Goosebumps race to my arms from the mere breeze. My cup clanks to the counter as I place it beside the spill, and I take the opportunity to move across the kitchen for something to clean the mess with.
Mid-cleanup, I glance at him. My hand freezes with the soaked paper towels in my grip. Cross, in low-hanging sweats and a half-unzipped jacket, sans shirt, stands with his back against the counter, the coffee pot up to his mouth.
He gulps down the hot coffee with ease before flicking his eyes to mine.
I can't move. I can’t breathe.
“Did you finish that last assignment?” he asks, casual as ever.
I blink. What?
One of his eyebrows hitches as he waits for my answer, the impatience obvious.
Is he just going to pretend last night didn’t happen?
Was I dreaming?
I move my gaze to his mouth.
My lips tingle at the sight of his.
It most definitely wasn’t a dream.
His gaze slowly slips to my neck. A flush begins to work its way across my chest. He puts the coffee pot back up to his mouth, but I see the slight twitch of his lips.
I quickly reach up and pull my hair forward to hide the bite mark he left behind. I shift on my feet because I’m choosing not to acknowledge the pull in between my legs.
“I’ll have it done this afternoon.” I put my back to him because fuck him.
My hackles rise at the sound of his slow and steady strides back to where I’m standing. His hot breath coats the side of my cheek as he reaches across me to put the empty coffee pot back in its rightful place. God, this is bad.
“Good,” he clips out. “You can bring it to the gym when you’re finished.”
I turn abruptly, our faces close. “The gym? Again?”
“That’s right.”
My eyes flutter closed with his breathy response. He pushes my hair past my shoulder, showing off the bite mark he left me with no less than twenty-four hours ago.
I open my eyes, and he glares.
“But try to keep your mouth to yourself this time, sis.”
My lips part with shock. Cross turns and puts his back to me while pulling his hood up onto his head before stalking down the hall to round the stairs.
He jogs up the steps, and I’m left standing in the kitchen feeling even more turned on than I did last night.
And I hate myself for it.
With Cross’s paper clutched tightly in my hand, I stumble into the gym with Tyler following after me. Apparently, my dearest stepbrother forgot to mention that I was going to have a handler all day long in addition to completing his homework.
“I think I can manage the rest of the way,” I bite out. “Thank you very much.”
Tyler chuckles from beside me. “Cross told me not to trust you, so I’m walking you all the way over to him until he takes you.”
I roll my eyes and exhale loudly. The paper in my hand crumples even more as I tighten my fingers, stomping across the gym floor toward the raised fighter’s ring.
It’s empty. Our echoing footsteps blend in with the punches Cross throws toward a mat that some guy holds up in front of him.
The man barks, “Again!”
Cross does as he says, his muscles rippling back and forth as he works his body in ways that only a true fighter could do. He dances around on light feet, and I can’t help but stare.
My lips part the longer I watch. Sweat droplets roll against Cross’s skin, the tattoos on his arm appearing wet and glossy.
“Fuck. Okay, I’m done,” Cross wheezes.
He turns and locks onto Tyler first then immediately drops his eyes to me.
Just to prove a point, I glance away and turn my chin up in his direction.
Tyler chuckles again, but this time, he tries to cover it with a clearing of his throat.
“Delivery!” he calls out, referring to me.
I cross my arms. “I’m not a fucking package.”
“More like a gift,” someone muses.
Tyler sucks in air from beside me at the same time I hear a wheeze. I peer up at the cage, and the trainer that Cross was working with is bent over at the waist, cradling his stomach.
“What…the…fuck, Cross?”
Cross puts his back to the trainer and stalks toward the door. He calls over his shoulder, “Don’t talk about her like that.”
My mouth falls open.
Cross hops down onto the floor in front of Tyler and me, and I peer up at him. A sweat droplet hangs off the end of his nose, falling in between us as he reaches forward to grip my chin in between his fingers. He closes my mouth and stares down at me.
“Don’t mistake my chivalry for something other than it is. I’m just sticking up for my sister.”
Embarrassment hits my stomach.
I bite down on my tongue, the taste of metal filling my mouth.
“Oh, and I’ll take this.” He pulls the paper out of my hand with ease.
I’m too angry and confused to bite back some type of insult. I take a step backward and run into something hard.
“Whoa.” Tyler’s hands fall to my waist from behind. “Careful, Scar.”
My spine goes rigid, a breath lodging inside my throat.
Cross moves quickly. He moves between me and Tyler, half-shielding me from his friend. “Don’t call her that.”
I exhale and quickly shake myself out of it.
“My bad,” Tyler says slowly, clearly confused. “Don’t call her a gift. Don’t call her any sort of nickname. Got it. Anything else?”
Cross just grunts.
I roll my eyes, but then an idea strikes. I head toward the raised platform where his trainer is still shaking off Cross’s cheap shot. I glance over my shoulder to where my stepbrother stands, shirtless and with the paper I wrote for him clutched in his tight grip.
This will show him. I carefully unzip my jacket, aware that Cross’s attention tracks my every move, and toss it toward him. I duck under the ropes and face the trainer.
My smile is shy. Coy. “Can I train with you?”