Chapter 2 #2
I laugh, the sound sharp and mocking. “All’s fair in love and war, baby bro.” That came out weird. It’s not like love has anything to do with us.
Liam lunges at me. His hands connect with my shoulders, pushing me under. I grab his waist, pulling him down with me. We grapple beneath the surface, a tangle of limbs and bubbles, before breaking apart and surfacing for air.
“You’re such an asshole,” he spits, water streaming down his face. His blue eyes are electric with anger, his chest heaving.
“And you’re a sore loser.” I shove another wave at him.
He retaliates, and suddenly we’re engaged in the kind of water fight we haven’t had since we were teenagers—splashing, dunking, wrestling in the cold lake water. There’s an undercurrent of genuine anger beneath the surface play, years of resentment fueling each shove and splash.
I get behind him, locking my arm around his neck in a loose hold. “Give up?” I taunt, my lips close to his ear.
He struggles against me, his back pressed against my chest. “Get off me!” The movement of his body against mine triggers something unexpected—a flash of heat that has nothing to do with exertion and everything to do with the slick slide of skin on skin.
I release him, aware of the dangerous territory we’re treading. Liam turns to face me, confusion replacing the anger in his expression. For a second, neither of us moves, just treading water and staring at each other, something unspoken passing between us.
Then Liam breaks the moment, turning toward shore. “I’m done with this bullshit.”
I watch him cut through the water, every splash radiating his anger. The distance between us grows with each powerful stroke he takes.
Damn it. I didn’t mean for this to escalate.
I follow him to shore. By the time I reach the shallow water, Liam is already storming up the path towards our cabin.
I grab my discarded clothes from the rock where I left them, not bothering to dress. Stuffing my feet into my shoes, I ignore the sand that grinds between my toes.
I chase after my infuriating stepbrother, watching the water stream down his back as he wades out of the lake. His swim trunks cling to his ass, leaving little to the imagination. I avert my gaze, disturbed by the direction of my thoughts.
“Running away again?” I call after him, falling back on antagonism like a safety net. “That’s your solution to everything, isn’t it?”
He whirls around, water droplets flying from his hair. “My solution? Rich coming from the guy who couldn’t handle one semester of real college before dropping out to play football at some third-rate university.”
The jab hits its mark. My jaw tightens. “At least I know how to have fun. When’s the last time you did anything besides study and judge everyone around you?”
“There’s more to life than your definition of ‘fun,’ Tyler.” He makes air quotes with his fingers, his tone dripping with disdain. “Some of us have actual goals beyond getting drunk and fucking anything that moves.”
“Is that what you think I do?” I close the distance between us in three quick strides.
“I don’t think it. I know it.” He stands his ground, chin lifted. “You’re so predictable it’s pathetic.”
The trail has become narrower between the pine trees, and now we’re surrounded by them. I move in closer, causing Liam to step back until his back is against a tree.
“This is why you always lose,” I sneer. “You’re too soft. Always have been. Hiding behind your books and your morals because you’re too afraid to actually live.”
Something snaps in his expression. His hands connect with my chest, shoving me backward with unexpected force. “Shut the fuck up.”
I recover quickly, stepping right back into his space. “Make me.”
The air between us crackles with tension.
Liam’s chest heaves, water still dripping from his hair down his face.
His eyes flick to my mouth, then back up, so quickly I almost miss it.
But I don’t. And suddenly I’m hyper-aware of our proximity, of the fact that we’re both wearing nothing but swim trunks that cling to our bodies like second skins.
And then I notice something else—the unmistakable bulge in Liam’s trunks. He’s hard. My stepbrother is fucking hard from fighting with me.
A wicked grin spreads across my face as I let my gaze drop to his crotch, then back up to his eyes. “Well, well, well. What have we here?”
Liam’s face flushes deep red. “Shut the fuck up,” he repeats, his voice strained. “It’s not because of you.”
My grin widens. “Oh yeah? Then what is it, little bro? Enlighten me.” I step even closer, our chests almost touching.
“Fuck you. Get off me.” He tries to push past me, but I block his path, sliding my leg between his thighs.
He grunts, the sound caught somewhere between protest and surprise. His attempts to escape only press him harder against my thigh. I feel the hard length of him through the thin fabric of our swim trunks, and something dark and possessive unfurls in my chest.
“You know what I think?” I murmur, my voice dropping to a low, dangerous register. “I think you want your big stepbro.” The words are meant to taunt, to humiliate, but they send an unexpected jolt of heat straight to my own groin.
“Shut up. I’m not gay,” Liam spits, his hips shifting against my thigh.
“Your dick says otherwise.” I press my leg more firmly, watching his face as he fights the sensation.
He struggles against me, trying to create distance, but the movement only creates more friction. And to my horror, my body responds, blood rushing to my cock until it’s straining against the wet fabric of my trunks.
Liam’s eyes widen. “Who’s gay now?” he snarls, a hint of triumph in his voice despite his compromised position.
“At least I’m not a little slut like you,” I retort, covering my confusion with aggression. “Rubbing on your stepbro’s leg to get off.”
He curses, but his hips make another involuntary jerk against my thigh. The friction draws a hiss from between his teeth.
“Come on, Liam,” I taunt. “Rub yourself on me like a good boy.”
“It’s you who wants to rub your disgusting monster cock on me,” he shoots back, his words at odds with the way his body moves against mine.
“How do you know I’ve got a monster cock? Been watching me?” Even as I taunt him, I’m pressing against him, our bodies finding a rhythm that bypasses our mutual hatred.
Our cocks align through the thin fabric, hard length against hard length. The sensation tears a groan from my throat that I try to disguise as a grunt of disgust. We’re moving together now, grinding against each other, our breathing harsh in the quiet air around the lake.
“Fuck, I hate you,” Liam gasps, his head falling back, exposing the long line of his throat.
“The feeling’s mutual,” I growl, but I don’t stop moving. Can’t stop. The friction is too good, the forbidden nature of what we’re doing adding a sharp edge to the pleasure building at the base of my spine.
I’m vaguely aware that we’re outside, that the neighbors could see us, but the thought only adds to the twisted excitement coursing through my veins. My hands find Liam’s hips, fingers digging into his flesh hard enough to bruise as I pull him more firmly against me.
“You gonna come in your trunks?” My voice is barely recognizable to my own ears. “Gonna make a mess for your big bro?”
“Go fuck yourself, Tyler,” Liam hisses, and his rhythm falters.
“Such a prissy boy with your perfect grades and manners,” I growl, grinding harder against him. “Look at you now. Rutting against me like a whore.”
His eyes flash with fury, but he doesn’t stop moving. “Fuck you.”
“You’d like that, wouldn’t you?” I grip his ass with one hand, pulling him tighter against me. “You want your big stepbro to bend you over right here…”
Liam grunts and throws his head back against the tree.
A sudden sound of a car engine makes us both jump. I spring away as if electrocuted, my body reacting before my mind can catch up. I scan the road beyond the trees, heart hammering against my ribs.
The car engine grows louder, tires crunching on gravel. I take another step back, running a shaky hand through my wet hair. The sound of the vehicle swells, then fades as it passes by without stopping, continuing down the lakeside road. Relief floods through me, followed by a wave of shame.
Liam and I stand frozen in our separate spaces, neither moving. Liam’s eyes are wide, pupils still dilated despite the panic that’s replaced the heat in his gaze. His lips are parted, his chest rises and falls in rapid succession, the muscles of his abdomen tensing with each breath.
Then his face transforms—desire draining away, replaced by dawning horror. His throat works as he swallows once, twice.
My skin feels too tight, my thoughts too loud. “Liam, I—” I manage, my voice coming out in a hoarse croak.
He shakes his head, cutting me off. A drop of water falls from his hair, trailing down his cheek like a tear.
His hand curls into a fist at his side. I watch as he rebuilds himself piece by piece—shoulders squaring, jaw setting, the vulnerable boy disappearing behind the wall I’ve grown so accustomed to pushing against. Then, without a word, Liam turns and stalks toward the cabin.
I remain rooted to the spot, watching him go.
This time, I think I’ve broken something that might be impossible to fix.