Step Too Far: Ruined By Him

Kate

That fucking asshole.

His lips curl into a grin, the motion drawn out, deliberate, like he knew I’d show up all along. He looks so damn pleased with himself that every fiber in me wants to storm across the room and wipe that smug look right off his face.

But I don’t move. Instead, I just stand there, pulse hammering so hard in my chest I’m convinced the entire room can hear it. I’m stuck—rooted to the floor—gaping at him like some clueless fool.

Dorian Reed.

The devil himself.

A devil with the most piercing blue eyes I’ve ever laid eyes on, standing here in my father’s home.

And when those eyes lock on me, it feels like he strips me bare. I’m exposed, defenseless, unable to stop the rush of heat flooding my face as his gaze drags over me.

All I can think about is the last time we crossed paths, the ghost of his breath skating over my throat, making me arch toward him in desperate anticipation, the sting of his teeth catching my lip in a kiss so rough I couldn’t tell if I wanted to scream from the pain or beg for more.

When the thick head of his cock nudged at my entrance, I’d flinched, and he gave me a look I’ll never forget.

“Christ, Angel, don’t tell me you’ve never done this before.”

I laughed it off, trying to play it cool, pretending it didn’t matter. That’s all it ever was with him…nothing serious. 

Just Dorian’s philosophy: fuck and forget. Unlike him, I had no clue what I was doing. I’d been the golden girl my whole damn life… perfect grades, student body president, valedictorian, every single box checked.

The flawless daughter of Senator Harrison.

THE Senator Harrison.

With a family legacy like mine, there were standards to live up to. No one—not anyone sane, anyway—was lining up to date the daughter of a retired Marine Corps General. The same man every insider whispered would be running for President before long.

And nobody was exactly lining up to get into my bed. Nobody but Dorian Reed, the reckless delinquent who didn’t give a single damn about rules or reputations.

The week before graduation, I made up my mind. I was done. Finished playing the perfect daughter. I was eighteen, legally grown. In exactly ninety days I’d be starting at Harvard, and there was no way I was stepping foot on campus still clinging to my virginity. So I sent a message to the one guy I knew would happily take care of it... even if he happened to be the one guy I absolutely despised.

Dorian shifted, the thick tip of his cock pressing insistently against me. “Tell me, Angel,” he muttered, voice dark and rough. “This isn’t your first time, right?”

“Obviously not, idiot,” I lied, teeth clenched, trying to project a confidence I absolutely didn’t feel. “Are you going to fuck me or just stand there talking?”

My father’s voice slices into the memory with the sharpness of a blade.

“Katherine,” he calls. “You’ve met Dorian Reed.”

Do I know Dorian Reed? My face burns hotter than fire. Surely the entire room can read the truth written across my expression. Do I know him? Only in the most biblical sense possible.

I know the taste of his mouth.

I know the way his cock feels pushing inside me.

I know the way it feels to fall apart around him, my nails biting into his shoulders while I cling to him like he’s the only thing keeping me from being pulled under.

The boy who took my virginity. The same boy I muttered a pathetic little “appreciate it” to as I slipped out of the hotel room the following morning in what had to be the single most humiliating post-sex exit in human history. The boy I hadn’t spoken to in the two weeks since he screwed me is now planted in the middle of my goddamn living room.

Standing next to my father.

Out of all the humiliating situations I’ve ever been in, this one has to sit right at the top. A storm of thoughts is crashing around in my head. Could my father know? I ask myself. No, there’s no way. He couldn’t. If he had any idea about the filthy, shameless things Dorian did to me that night, my dad would have snapped his neck without hesitation. The memory of those things makes warmth pool low in my belly, and I force myself not to acknowledge it.

“Yes.” The word catches in my throat, rasping out weakly. “I know Dorian Reed. Hello, Dorian.”

“Hello, Harvard,” Dorian answers, dragging the word out like he wants it to hang in the air. The corners of his mouth tip upward. The image of him above me, lips hovering a breath away, flashes through my head as vividly as if it were happening now.

Right beside my uptight, no-nonsense father, Dorian lets his mouth twist into another mocking grin. Then he winks. If there’s such a thing as dying from pure embarrassment, I am about two seconds away from dropping dead.

“Of course the two of you crossed paths at Brighton,” my father continues, completely blind to the fact that my face must be redder than a firetruck.

I swallow hard, my throat tight, and give a stiff nod, silently begging the burning in my cheeks to fade. “Yes…Brighton.”

“And you’ve met Dorian’s mother, Ella Reed,” he adds.

I’ve been so wrapped up in staring at Dorian that I barely even realized someone else was present. Ella Reed. His mother. A legendary actress. A screen goddess. If this meeting had taken place anywhere else, I’d probably be freaking out like a fangirl.

Why are she and Dorian standing in my living room? Please let this be tied to some political charity event, I beg silently, though that would still mean I’d be forced to put up with Dorian. And you don’t just want to put up with him. The thought shoots into my head, unwelcome, and I shove it away.

“Hello, Katherine.” Ella steps toward me, her hand extended. Her expression is warm, almost indulgent, the kind of look you give a puppy or a little kid. “I’ve heard so much about you.”

Before I can process why she’s watching me like that, my father cuts in, voice clipped and matter-of-fact. “Ella and I have something to share, and we want you both to hear it from us directly.”

Ella.

He just called her by her first name. They’re clearly on familiar terms.

Dorian’s gaze is fixed on me, but I can’t make myself meet it. My body goes rigid, my lungs tight as I watch his mother slide her hand over my father’s and beam up at him like she’s glowing from the inside.

Oh God.

It feels like witnessing two trains inching toward a crash you can’t stop. I know what my father is about to say before the words even leave his mouth, but I can’t wrap my head around it.

“We’ve kept this from the press, but an announcement is coming soon. And since you two have been away at boarding school, you haven’t heard a word of it. That wasn’t intentional. We had planned to tell you both during the holidays, but it never seemed like the right moment.” He pauses to clear his throat.

“You deserve to know first.”

No. No. No.

“This might be difficult to process.”

That has to be the understatement of the year.

“Ella and I have been in a relationship for a while. And we’re going to be married. It will be tasteful, in honor of your late mother, of course. But it needs to happen this summer, before the campaign officially ramps up.”

Oh God. Oh God. Oh God. The words are screaming through my skull.

I lost my virginity to my brand new stepbrother.

I am completely and utterly fucked.