4
ELLIE
Professor Anderson is my favorite lecturer. He inspires every student in an overflowing lecture hall to hang on to his every word, leaning forward as though they don’t want to risk missing a single syllable. It doesn’t hurt that he’s nice to look at, either. Maybe that’s why at least three-quarters of the class is female.
Colby is within the minority of male students, and today he does not look happy.
But that’s not unusual. My stepbrother has a way of exuding a mix of anger and disdain wherever he goes. His brow is furrowed, his black hair with its annoyingly perfect wave, flopping low over his forehead as he types notes on his mac.
I shouldn’t be looking at him because I don’t want to get caught in the act, but I can’t help myself. Since Dornan’s party, I’ve been in denial. I’ve avoided seeing him other than that one time through a crack in the doorway. After our ‘chat’, he successfully convinced my mom that I needed rest, so I hunkered down in my room and avoided everyone.
But I couldn’t avoid my thoughts. I couldn’t stop myself from going over every minute detail of what happened in the closet.
Three men.
Three stepbrothers.
Three different roles in making me come harder than I ever have before.
But who was where?
It’s stupid that I care. It’s ridiculous that I think I know. Colby was the one behind me, the controlling hands and whispered orders. Micky was the one who licked me so perfectly that I soaked through my panties on the way down the stairs. Seb’s clever mouth tortured my nipples. They’re still tipped with red and a little sore. I’d bet money I don’t have that I’ve worked it all out correctly.
The thing is, none of it should matter. I wish I could bury every memory and relegate them to the same place I pushed all thoughts of when my dad moved to another state for work and never came back.
But I can’t.
Because these memories aren’t bad per se. Pleasure isn’t the same as pain, no matter how difficult the reality of it all is. We shouldn’t have done what we did. We would never have if it hadn’t been for the darkness and anonymity. But now that we have, I don’t know how to feel. I don’t know what to do with the tingling I feel between my legs or the yearning I have for men I try not to talk to even though we live in the same house. I can’t reconcile the feelings from before with the ones from after. I feel ridiculous for letting sex thoughts cloud my mind. That’s not the kind of girl I am.
Except it seems that it is because as Colby frowns again, staring at the big screen behind Professor Anderson, I get a flutter low in my belly.
Traitorous body.
“For extra credit, I’m tasking you to work in pairs to answer this question.” Professor Anderson flicks forward in his presentation. I read over the question and type it quickly into my lecture notes. “To shake things up a little, I’ve decided on who will work with who. I know you all have your buddies in the class but getting to know someone new will broaden your perspectives and hopefully mean that you get more from this exercise.”
A mix of chatter and groaning fills the room, and Professor Anderson raises his hands to calm everyone down. Flicking forward again, a list of names appears on the screen. I scan for my name, finding it halfway down, and my heart drops ten stories in my chest. Because, of course, who would fate pair me with but Colby?
It’s a sick joke.
A doom-filled nightmare.
I don’t want to look at him now. I don’t want to see the disappointment and annoyance on his face.
“Gather your things and find your partners. We’ll spend the rest of the time today going through what I want you to consider and options for presenting your answers.”
My heart thuds so hard against my ribs that I bring my hand to cover it. Closing my eyes for a second, I inhale a long, deep breath through my nostrils. This is such a mortifying situation, but I’ve lived through worse. I just need to pull up my big-girl panties and get on with it. If Colby wants to be an ass, he can be. There isn’t a way of controlling other people’s responses, only my own.
Finally, I pluck up the courage to glance over my shoulder and find Colby still in his seat. Our eyes meet, and he raises his chin so defiantly that I want to laugh. Of course, he wouldn’t come to me. Colby might as well be made of cement for all the flexibility he has in his attitude and opinions. But if he’s cement, then today, I’m made of unbreakable diamond. Raising my eyebrows, I turn back to Professor Anderson, who is watching everyone trying to find their partners. I contemplate raising my hand to tell him I already know Colby far too well, and maybe we could swap partners, but that would probably get me points deducted before I’ve even started this task.
So, I wait.
And wait. And wait. I don’t turn to Mr. Granite again. He can suck it if he expects me to go to him just because he beckoned like a neanderthal.
Just as Professor Anderson flicks to the next slide, ready to explain the task further, Colby slumps into the empty seat next to me. “Did anyone ever tell you you have an attitude problem?” he growls under his breath.
“Nope.” Folding my arms, I stare straight ahead.
“Why don’t I believe you?” he says, opening his laptop.
“Because you have trust issues,” I mutter.
A snort is all I get in response.
For the next twenty minutes, Colby takes notes like he’s going to be asked to regurgitate the lecture word for word. I swear, I’ve never seen a man’s fingers move so fast. Especially thick, strong fingers attached to palms the size of dinner plates. My pussy squeezes, remembering how it felt to have identical fingers spreading me open. Colby and his brothers may have very different personalities, but they’re so identical in their physical features it’s uncanny.
Maybe I’m wrong. Maybe it was Colby kneeling on the floor before me, serving me with hot, slick pleasure. Another glance at his fingers heats my cheeks like lava.
“Now, I want you to take the last ten minutes to discuss your ideas and potential approach with your partner. The task should take you around four hours to complete in total. Work out a schedule for when and how you’re going to meet the deadline.”
All around us, people chatter. It’s the kind of over-enthusiastic rumble that only comes about when lots of people who don’t really know each other are forced to partner up. Between Colby and I is deathly silence.
“I’m free on Thursday,” he mutters eventually.
“And what if I’m not?” I say, even though I am.
“Then we find another day.”
Ugh. I hate him for being so unemotional and logical. How can he be unemotional, for fucks sake? Isn’t he as pent up with indescribable feelings as me? Doesn’t he want to shout at me for being in the wrong place at the wrong time? Isn’t he mad as hell that we overstepped a line we can never cross back over again?
What if I can’t? The four small words he uttered through the crack in my door flare into my memory. He’s thinking about what happened, too. He admitted it with no shame.
“Thursdays fine,” I say through gritted teeth.
“Okay then. I don’t mind taking the second part of the question to research. Or would you rather do that part?”
“I’ll take the first,” I say, relieved.
“Good. Okay.” Colby types some more and then goes through his ideas for how we should approach the presentation of our results. His voice is low and even, and everything he says makes complete sense. So much so that I want to scream.
How can a man with such a handsome face and perfect biceps also be so intelligent? Like, shouldn’t God have shared the good stuff a little more evenly rather than giving Colby all of it? And why am I even noticing his ridiculously thick eyelashes or the way his t-shirt is straining across his chest? They’re not appropriate thoughts for an almost sibling.
If he could hear my thoughts, he’d be disgusted, wouldn’t he? I’m disgusted.
And overwhelmed.
I always thought my stepbrothers were airheads who only got into college on the back of their amazing sporting prowess. All they seem to be interested in is football and girls, and I’m not even sure which order to place those two things in.
When Colby’s finished talking, I want to say yes. That all sounds perfect.
But instead, what comes out is, “How can you focus on this stupid task after what happened?”
For a flash, I see Colby flinch at my question and his eyes lower to the computer in front of him. Then he turns his fae-green eyes to me, his jaw ticking with tension. “What do you want me to do, Ellie?” he growls. “I don’t have a frigging DeLorean. There’s no going back in time.”
Rational again.
“I want you to apologize,” I say. “At least be regretful. It’s like it was no big deal to you.”
“It was a kiss in a closet,” he whispers. “Something we’ve all been doing since high school. We didn’t tattoo your skin with our names, for fuck’s sake. It doesn’t have to be a big thing unless you make it one.”
“So now it’s my fault for overreacting.”
“That isn’t what I said,” he says. “Didn’t you have a good time?”
“That isn’t the point.”
“Well, it should be.” A flicker of amusement passes across his infuriatingly perfect lips.
“If pleasure is all you care about, your life is going to be very shallow.”
“I don’t want to patronize you, Ellie, but you need to loosen up.”
“I don’t want to patronize you, Ellie, but I’ll go ahead and do it anyway,” I mimic.
“Listen,” he growls again, leaning close enough that I can see flecks of gold in his eyes. “I felt you grinding against me. I heard you come all over my brother’s face. You loved every minute, so stop pretending it was something hideous and terrible.”
“You might twist my mom around your little fingers, but I’m not so easily impressed,” I say.
He recoils and shakes his head. “I’m not interested in twisting anyone around my little finger. Not your mom, and definitely not you.”
“Good,” I say, breathing deeply and quickly like I’m trapped in a flight response even though I’m coming out fighting.
“As I said before, Ellie, we’re not related. We’re all adults. It doesn’t have to be a big deal unless you want to make it one.”
“What are you insinuating?”
He meets my narrowed eyes with a quirk of his eyebrow and a twist of his lips. “You know there’s that phrase from Shakespeare, ‘the lady doth protest too much’.”
“Fuck, Colby. You’re quoting Shakespeare at me now?”
“I think you liked it. And I think you’d like to do it again, but you’re so fucking uptight that you can’t bear to admit it.”
“I’m not uptight,” I hiss.
“Oh, no.” He looks down at my hands, which are balled into tight fists. His hand brushes my bunched shoulder, and then he shakes his head. “Seriously, Ellie. You need to take a chill pill. And if you can’t find one of those, Micky’s not the only one who’s skilled with his tongue. Another orgasm like that will push the tension right out of your body.”
“I knew it,” I say before my brain kicks into gear and my hand flies to my traitorous lips.
Colby smiles then. A full-on megawatt smile that doesn’t seem to fit his face, even though it would look perfect on almost identical Sebastian. “You tried to work out where we all were, didn’t you?” Leaning in close until his stubbly cheek almost presses against mine, he whispers in my ear. “Lucky Micky.”
I jolt back at the warm gust of his breath and the way my whole body comes alive at his proximity.
“That’s disgusting,” I blurt, and he pulls back, staring me right in the eyes, close enough that I wonder if he’ll kiss me here and now. And fuck, I want him too. I really want him to, with an urgency that I despise. I want it to be a hard, mean, closed-lipped kiss that will bruise. One I could slap him for but mess my panties over in secret. But this is Colby, and I hate Colby, I resent Colby, and I have to live with Colby.
“Keep telling yourself lies, Ellie, and one day, you won’t be able to recognize the truth.”
At the front of the lecture hall, Professor Anderson yells, “RIGHT, THAT’S IT. YOU SHOULD BE FINISHING UP NOW,” but I’m so mesmerized by Colby’s close proximity that I don’t move a muscle.
“Fuck off, Colby,” I manage, but it comes out more like a breathy squeak than an aggressive dismissal.
“Micky was right about you,” he says as he backs up in his seat, lowering the screen of his laptop.
“Oh yeah, and what did Micky say?”
Colby shrugs. “You’re not ready for that now. When you are, I’ll tell you.”
And with that, he gets to his feet, stuffing his bag with his possessions before turning to leave.
Thursday will be torture, but when this assignment is done, there’s no reason for me to have to spend any more time with my stepbrothers than I’m forced to. Micky can say what he likes about me. I don’t care what his opinions are.
But as I pack away my laptop, I turn to catch Colby disappearing through the double doors and wishing I knew everything.