CRUEL DESIRES: MY BULLY TURNED STEP BROTHER のすべてのチャプター: チャプター 41 - チャプター 50

Derek's POV I stared at the building and felt like I needed a tetanus shot just for looking at it. It was a gray, peeling carcass of a place. Even Gabriel, my broke step brother who was under scholarship didn’t live in a dump like this. I didn’t even know these kinds of student slums existed on campus. It smelled like damp concrete and failure. “Aren't you coming in?” Gabriel called back, looking at me with that half irritated, half amused look he gets. “What are you looking at?” “I am good,” I muttered, leaning against the hood of my car. My shoes probably cost more than the rent for this entire floor. I wasn't touching that hallway. Gabriel smirked. He actually leaned against the doorway, teasing me. “You don't want to protect me anymore? What if Erica decides to kidnap me or something?” The words hit a wire in my brain. My mind did a sick, fast forward loop. I saw it, this cramped dark apartment. I saw Erica, that loud mouthed Mike, and whatever girlfriend lived in there. I s

Gabriel's POV I leaned into Derek’s ear so fast I nearly bumped his temple. The heat radiating off him was making me dizzy, but the fear of my friends finding out I was actually a pervert made me feel worse. "Fine. Let's go home," I hissed, my voice trembling. "Just shut up. Please." Derek didn't pull away. He lingered there, his breath ghosting over my skin in a way that made my hair stand up. "Whoof... say it again," he whispered back, his voice thick with that dark, twisted amusement. "That was so sexy." I pulled back and glared at him, my face burning. I wanted to spit on him. I wanted to scream. But I just stood there, pinned by his smirk. "So..." Erica prompted, looking between us with narrowed eyes. "When am I going to see that sketchbook?" Derek didn't even look at her. He just stepped in front of me, a wall of expensive fabric and arrogance. "When he is ready. Don't pressure my brother." "Yeah," I added, my voice sounding fake even to my own ears. "Yeah, when I am r

Gabriel's POV The club’s bass was still thumping in my ears, a dull, bruised rhythm that made my brain feel like it was floating in gray sludge. The bouncers were stepping closer. One reached for Mike’s shoulder, his hand looking like a slab of raw meat. "DEREK!" I screamed. I didn't care how I looked. I didn't care that I sounded like a dying animal. "DEREK MILLER!" The music seemed to swallow my voice but then, the heavy VIP doors swung open. Derek stepped out, looking like he had just finished a casual stroll in a garden. He was holding a fresh drink, the ice clinking against the glass. The bouncers stopped instantly, their hands dropping like they had been burned. "Is there a problem here?" Derek asked, his voice smooth and terrifyingly calm. The guards were stammering, bowing their heads. Derek didn't even look at them. He looked at me, his eyes trailing over my messy hair and my trembling hands. "I was just in the restroom, Gabe," he said, sighing like I was a difficult c

Gabriel's POV The sun was stabbing through the curtains like a serrated knife. I blinked, and the room did a slow, sickening roll. My phone buzzed on the nightstand......8:00 AM.8:00 AM."Fuck," I croaked. The word felt like sandpaper in my throat. I tried to sit up, but the world turned into static. My head didn't just ache; it felt like a buzzing television screen, fuzzy and loud, vibrating against my skull. I looked at the other side of the bed, expecting to see a mess of sheets or the scent of gin, but it was empty. Derek wasn't there.I didn't care. I couldn't care. The sounds from last night, the moans the thudding, that stranger’s voice they were stuck on a loop in my brain. I dragged myself to the shower, letting the water scald my skin, but it didn't wash away the feeling.When I got out, I just sat on the edge of the bed. My bag was packed for lecture, but I had zero energy. For the first time in my life, I didn't care about my GPA and I definitely didn't care about stud

Gabriel's POV I stood at the stove, squinting through the steam that was already starting to smudge my glasses. Cooking is so difficult. I mean, how do people do this every day without losing their minds? I had a YouTube video playing on my phone, propped up against a jar of salt, but the woman in the video moved too fast. The chicken hit the pan with a violent hiss, grease spitting back at me like it was angry I was even touching it. A drop of oil landed right on my knuckle, and I hissed, pulling my hand back. "Fuck..." I tried to flip the meat, but it was already stuck. The smell of charred meat started to fill the air not the good, smoky kind, but the you are about to set off the fire alarm kind. The edges were turning a bitter, ugly black. "Well, well. What exactly are you even good at?" The voice came from behind me, low and amused. I jumped, nearly knocking the pan off the burner. I reached out to steady it, and my index finger brushed the hot metal of the grate. "Shit!