Chapter 4; Fuck it

EMMA

 “What is that mark on your neck?”

My heart skipped a beat.

A mark? Did he mean a hickey? It seemed there was something I had overlooked. I suddenly recalled how he had kissed every inch of my body that night and the traces left all over my skin when I woke up the next morning. It was all his fault.

Yet the very man responsible stood there looking at me with cool distaste and said, “Look, I don’t care how promiscuous you were ok, but it has to stop. You had better behave yourself now that you’ve entered into this family.”

Humiliation burned through me so hot I felt it in my face. For a second I wanted to cast caution aside, expose the truth, and shatter that arrogant, high-and-mighty expression. I held back. I forced my voice to stay even.

“Get out of my room.”

He looked at me for a moment longer, then turned and left without another word. The door clicked shut.

I stood there trembling, arms still crossed over my chest. I promised myself, right then, to stay as far away from him as possible. My body, however, seemed determined to betray me at every turn.

A few days passed, and the house felt smaller than it should have; my body refused to forget him. 

It was like every nerve ending had been recalibrated overnight and now only recognised Rhys. I woke up aching. I fell asleep aching. The bruises on my thighs faded from deep purple to yellow, but the memory of how they got there stayed sharp and humiliating and far too hot. I tried to stay in my room. I tried to time my meals for when the house felt empty. It never worked. Richard and my mother had vanished into wedding plans and business dinners. Rhys, on the other hand, seemed to occupy every hallway I stepped into.

 We had already collided twice that morning, once near the stairs where he had looked at the mark on my neck with obvious anger, and once in the kitchen where the silence between us had been so heavy I had left my coffee untouched and walked out cursing under my breath.

I was still muttering when I rounded the corner too fast and slammed into a solid wall of muscle. Large hands caught my waist before I could fall. I looked up and the air left my lungs.

The man holding me had an easy, almost lazy smile and the kind of face that belonged on a billboard.

His eyes moved over me with open appreciation. Then his smile widened.

“Well, well, well.” His voice was warm, amused.

“Who is this gorgeous little kitten?”

Heat rushed to my face. He looked over my shoulder toward the hallway.

“Rhys, you didn’t tell me your stepsister was this pretty. I’m beginning to think you deliberately kept her from me.”

I blinked. “I sorry. I wasn’t watching where I was going.”

“Don’t apologize.”

He still hadn’t completely released my waist. Instead, he tilted his head, studying me.

“Although,” he added, “if crashing into me is your way of introducing yourself, I’m certainly not complaining.”

I stared at him. Was he always like this?

“I’m Tristan,” he finally said. “And you must be Emma.”

Before I could answer, a familiar voice cut through the hallway.

“What are you doing?” 

Rhys.

Tristan’s hands dropped from my waist, but he didn’t look remotely bothered. In  fact, his smile became even more amused.

“Meeting the family.” His eyes flicked toward Rhys. “You really should have warned me.”

Rhys’s jaw tightened.

“She’s been here for days.”

“And you’ve never mentioned her?”

“No.”

Tristan looked back at me. “Interesting.”

Something about the way he said it made my cheeks heat again.

Rhys stepped forward.

“Tristan.”

“What?”

“Don’t.”

Tristan’s eyebrows lifted.

“Don’t what?”

Rhys stared at him.

Tristan stared back for a beat before chuckling. “Relax. I haven’t done anything.”

“Yet,” he added under his breath.

I didn’t wait around to find out where the conversation was going. I stepped around them and hurried up the stairs, my heart beating faster than it had any right to.

I couldn’t decide what was more embarrassing.

The fact that Tristan had been openly flirting with me within minutes of meeting me… Or the fact that Rhys had clearly hated every second of it.

I lasted until late afternoon before restlessness won. I changed into a soft dress that hit mid-thigh and went downstairs, telling myself I was only going to the kitchen for water.

That was all. Water. Nothing else.

Of course, Tristan was already there.

He was leaning against the counter like he owned the place, one ankle crossed over the other.

The moment he saw me, his face lit up.

“There she is, the  kitten returns.”

I rolled my eyes.

“Do you ever stop?”

“Not when the view is this good.”

I shook my head and walked toward the fridge.

“You flirt with every woman you meet?”

“Only the interesting ones.”

“And I’m interesting?”

He pushed himself away from the counter.

“You crashed into me, looked adorable doing it, and then ran away before I could properly introduce myself.”

He came closer.

“I’d say that’s interesting.”

I opened the fridge to hide my smile.

“You’re ridiculous.”

“That’s not a no.”

I reached for the bottle of water.

Before I could straighten, Tristan was standing beside me.

He took the bottle from my hand, opened it, and handed it back.

“See?” he said. “I’m useful too.”

I laughed despite myself.

He grinned.

“There. That’s better.”

“What?”

“You smiling. “You look prettier when you do that.”

My smile faded. Tristan stepped closer. I instinctively moved back until the edge of the counter pressed against me.

He noticed. But instead of backing away, he placed one hand on the counter beside me.

“Getting nervous, kitten?”

“No.”

“Liar.”

His grin returned. I tried to move around him but he shifted just enough to block me.

“Tristan.”

“Emma.”

“Move.”

“Ask nicely.”

I stared at him.

“You’re impossible.”

“And yet you haven’t left.”

That shut me up.

His eyes dropped briefly to my mouth before returning to mine.

For the first time, I noticed how easily he could switch between joking and serious. Then his fingers brushed lightly against my wrist.

“You know,” he murmured, “I think you’re a lot less innocent than you want everyone to believe.”

My breath caught.

“I’m not..”

“Emma. I’m just teasing you.” His smile widened. 

I pushed lightly against his chest. “Gosh stop it.”

He laughed.

“Fine.”

But he didn’t move very far. Instead, he leaned back against the counter.

“So tell me something.”

“What?”

“Are you always this easy to fluster?”

“No.”

“Good.”

His grin became wicked.

“Then I’m making progress.”

I opened my mouth to answer when the kitchen suddenly went silent. Tristan’s eyes moved over my shoulder then his expression changed.

Rhys.

He stood in the doorway.  His gaze moved from Tristan to me then to the distance between us. His face became unreadable.

“Tristan.”

The playful smile on Tristan’s face faded. Not completely.

“What?”

“What are you doing?”

“Nothing.””

Rhys’s jaw tightened. Tristan noticed. Of course he noticed and rather than retreat, he leaned casually against the counter again.

“Is there a problem?”

Rhys’s eyes hardened.

“Why are you here?”

That finally pulled Tristan’s attention away from me.

His tone became more serious.

“Cade and Theo had to handle something. They’re going to be out for a few days.”

Rhys’s expression shifted slightly.

“When did that happen?”

“Earlier today.”

I glanced between them. I still had no idea who Theo and Cade were, but judging by the sudden change in the atmosphere, they were obviously important.

Tristan started toward the doorway. Then he stopped and his eyes landed on me again. And with Rhys still watching him he grinned and walked towards me instead. 

I instinctively stepped back. My shoulders meeting Rhys' chest and I froze. I hadn’t even realized he’d moved behind me.

Tristan stopped directly in front of us.

His eyes flicked briefly to where I stood against Rhys. Then back to Rhys’s face.

A slow smirk appeared.

“Well,” he murmured.

Rhys’s arms remained at his sides.

“Leave.”

Tristan ignored him.

Instead, he leaned closer to me.

His voice dropped low enough that only I and possibly Rhys could hear.

“Careful, kitten. If you keep looking this  tempting, I might stop being a gentleman.”

My face burned.

His eyes remained on Rhys as he smiled.

“Although…” He paused. “Maybe your stepbrother already knows exactly how tempting you are.”

My breath caught.

Tristan straightened, gave Rhys one last amused look, and walked out.

The second he was gone, Rhys moved.

One of his hands settled at my waist. The other slid under the hem of my dress, fingers trailing up the bare skin of my thigh. I went completely rigid. He didn’t stop. His hand kept moving higher until his fingers brushed directly over the damp fabric of my panties, pressing lightly against me.

A helpless, broken sound escaped my throat.

Rhys scoffed and pulled his hand away like I had burned him.

“You’re pathetic,” he said, voice low and cold. “You can’t even control yourself.”

Shame crashed over me so hard my eyes stung. I didn’t say a word. I just turned and walked out of the kitchen as fast as I could without running, the heat of his touch and the humiliation of his words chasing me all the way up the stairs.

I locked my bedroom door behind me and leaned against it, breathing hard. My body was still trembling. My face was burning. And the worst part was how much I still wanted him.

Eventually I made it to the bed. I lay on top of the covers staring at the ceiling, thighs pressed tightly together, the echo of both men’s eyes still burning over my skin. I tried to think about anything else. Nothing stuck. My body only wanted what it had just been denied. 

After a long time spent twisting, turning, and clenching my fists, I sat up, dragged both hands through my hair, and looked at the closed door.

“Fuck it,” I whispered to the empty room.

Then I got up.