Possessive Stepbrother, page 1
POSSESSIVE STEPBROTHER
STEAMY SHORTS: BOOK 1
LENA LITTLE
© 2023 by Lena Little
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CONTENTS
Free Books
Chapter 1
Chapter 2
Chapter 3
Chapter 4
Chapter 5
Chapter 6
Epilogue
Extended Epilogue
Also by Lena Little
PREVIEW
I don’t give a flying f*ck if my absentee father got married and acquired a new daughter.
But it’s an entirely different matter when he dumps her on my front door a day before Halloween. Because I’d rather have someone who wears a hockey mask and carries a machete for a roommate.
I don’t get much choice because she’s already here, so I just have to suffer in her presence for one night. Just one. Then, I’ll go send her to another apartment complex and never have to see her ever again.
At least, that’s the plan before I see her.
When I get home, Raven sits on the stairs, head down and shoulders slumped.
The girl looks up, and the vision rips the soul clean off my body.
Is she for real? How can someone look this beautiful? Are my eyes playing tricks on me? There’s no way. There’s just no way.
But she is. And whatever fiery anger I initially felt quickly morphs into something else—something darker, deeper, and more intense. OBSESSION.
It’s more than just a potent desire to have her. I get this primal need to protect her and keep her safe.
Whoever touches or hurts her is a dead man.
If anyone wants to test that, there’s only one thing they can do…
F*ck around and find out.
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1
ROWAN
“His victims are young ladies who are home alone. While there have been reports of him grabbing them from the street, most of the crime occurred inside residences, leaving the authorities…”
Fucking lunatics. Pieces of shit who don’t deserve the air they breathe.
I shake my head and shove my hands in my pockets, the TV volume way too loud for my liking. But can’t do anything about it. The couple who live downstairs—Mr. and Mrs. Petrov—are more than 80 years old and can barely hear even when someone yells in their faces. Nice people, though.
Passing by their window, I notice flecks of paint on the ground and mentally add it to my to-do checklist for this week. Maintenance takes a huge chunk of my time—fixing roofs and leaks, replacing broken tiles, attaching new doors, repairing drywalls. I can have one of my men do it, sure, but I enjoy the mindless work.
I’ve been working as a handyman since I was fifteen, and if I have to choose one thing I cannot live without, it’s my toolbox. Everything I need is there. Flat tire? I got you. Door off its hinges? Easy. Removing stuck wallpaper? No problem.
“The police are asking anyone with information to come forward…”
I walk by the second of three apartments on the ground floor when I realize everyone’s listening to the same news. Damn. The streets are no longer safe, haven’t been for a while. But a killer on the loose? Shit. This is why I invest in thousands of dollars worth of security cameras.
Can’t be too safe. Besides, it’s easier to track these degenerates when they have a face.
Home is the entire second floor, and this day has been way too long—started at 4 AM and I’m just getting back at almost 9 PM. Most people think my life’s easy because I went from being a regular handyman to owning a construction company and a couple of apartment complexes.
But no. I still work my ass off.
Right now, though, I’m questioning my inability to sit back and relax for once. I’m always restless and never sleep for more than two to three hours every time. I usually doze off and then wake up. Wash, rinse, repeat.
I just wanna take a shower and hit the sack. If I wasn’t bathing in my own sweat, I’d sleep with my work clothes on.
Something stops me in my tracks, putting me on high alert. It’s as if time slows down and whatever noise I hear fades into the background.
I smell her before I see her, and I wrinkle my nose because she smells familiar. Her scent is familiar.
“What the–”
A small girl with short, Chestnut brown hair is squatting by my front door. She’s wearing denim shorts and a gray t-shirt, her head resting on her crossed arms. A pink duffle bag sits beside her, its glitter and unicorn print hurting my eyes.
I look around, frowning and wondering whose kid this is because I don’t remember seeing her before.
“Hey, kid. You lost?”
She looks up and it feels like someone shoved me hard, rocking me to the soles of my feet. My jaw flexes like it might snap, and a groan ripples in my throat. My body reacts to her before my mind can catch up.
Something clicks in my head, like that feeling when I figure out a solution just by looking at the big picture.
Jesus. Who are you?
I don’t realize I’ve spoken that question out loud. Not until her emerald eyes fringed in long, black lashes widen and she hangs her head low, covers her face with her small hands, and groans. “Oh god, Mom. What have you gotten me into?”
“Excuse me?”
She stands up to her full height, all five feet and maybe two inches of her, squares her shoulders, and crosses her arms. I swallow back my laughter when she huffs and points an accusing finger at me. “Listen, Mr. Rowan Ross. It’s clear you don’t want me here, and I promise you, I never wanted to come in the first place. She won’t believe me, so can you give me one tiny favor? Call my mom and say you found me another place to stay.”
My stomach drops, feeling the ground disappear from underneath me. What the fuck? “You’re Raven?”
Something crosses her face, but she bites her bottom lip and nods. For some reason, my eyes zero in on her plump, pillowy lip, resisting the urge to tug it down and bite it myself.
Fucking universe playing its dirty tricks on me. The first woman who ever made me feel this way is her, and of course, she’s not some random stranger. She has to be my stepsister. That revelation shouldn’t feel like a sharp blade slicing my chest.
Raven picks up her bag and slings it over her shoulder. Her eyes glisten, and she blinks rapidly. Seeing her struggle not to cry makes a surge of protectiveness rise in me. I don’t know where it comes from, but I realize there’s a primal beast roaring through my chest, demanding to be let out.
“I’m sorry for disrupting your peace. I promise I never meant to barge in on you like this. My mom… She is who she is. Again, I’m sorry. I won’t bother you again.”
With a heavy sigh, she gives me a wide berth. Oh, hell no.
I don’t even think twice. No, that’s a lie. I don’t even think. Period. Because I spin on my heel and grab her arm lightly. Raven’s so close I can see the smattering of freckles on her nose and cheeks.
She smells of lavender and innocence, and it turns me savage. “You’re not going anywhere, love. You’re staying with me.”
2
RAVEN
Ihate Halloween. Absolutely hate it with a passion.
I don’t understand how it’s fun to give monsters their own holiday. How is it exciting? I don’t even see the point. Adults just really need an excuse to wear costumes. Pretend like their someone else for a night.
And of course, I end up in a place where Halloween’s a big deal. Like, seriously big.
The moment I stepped foot on its cobblestone streets, I was greeted by Jack-o-Lanterns lining the sidewalks, fake cobwebs clinging to lampposts and trees, the sound of ghostly wails from huge speakers, tombstones and bloody hands reaching from under the ground in the front lawn.
Great.
It just gives me the creeps. There’s nothing fun or exciting about it. It’s straight-up macabre. It’s the same thing with voluntarily going to haunted mansions or houses of horrors. Like, why? Why would I choose to traumatize myself? Why should I pay for something that would make me lose sleep for days?
Even so, the scariest thing I find in this new town is none of those decorations.
It’s the guy standing in front of me. A massive hunk of a man, standing north of 6’2”, with wide shoulders, muscular chest, and forearms, and a look of pure anger on his face. His skin is flushed, brows furrowed, and he glares at his hand that’s touching my arm.
Is he pissed off at me? Angry that I showed up from out of nowhere?
Maybe. Maybe not.
All I know is that I burn where he touches me. I pull my arm on instinct because it’s hot, way too hot, and something clenches between my thighs at the simple contact.
His face is only inches from me, and I can hear his harsh breathing like he’s trying to control something. His temper maybe?
I don’t know. My mind is empty. I cannot think, unable to think, with him standing this close to me. I have to t
Is this really my stepbrother? The one I’m supposed to be staying with?
If I stay here any minute longer, I might just launch myself at him. My body feels weird like I’m magnetically drawn to him, needing to be closer.
What the hell, Raven? This isn’t you!
He brushes a knuckle along my arm, and I think, This is it. This is it. I gasp and close my eyes, anticipation thrumming in my veins. But all he does is take the bag from me.
Huh.
Disappointment tastes bitter in my mouth, and when I open my eyes, he’s looking at me funny. His dark brown eyes narrow. “Have you been waiting long? Let’s go inside.”
“N-no. I just arrived from the bus actually.”
“You rode a bus?”
“Uhm, yeah. How else am I supposed to get here?”
“You don’t have a car?”
“No.” This conversation is making me uncomfortable. He’s clearly well-off. At least, based on what Mom told me. He’ll never understand what it’s like living way below your means.
“Why?”
“Because I can’t afford it? I just graduated a few months ago. I’m supposed to be starting a new job, but Mom got married and ordered me to move here.”
He sucks his bottom lip between his teeth as he cocks his head to the side. “Don’t get me wrong. I’d thank her for bringing you to me, but why didn’t you tell her no?”
I’m going to dissect that first part later. For now, yes. I wonder the same thing because I can never say no to her. She has a way of guilt-tripping me into doing everything she wants.
I already received a job offer, but now, I’m back to square one. I need to go job hunting again. In the meantime, I’ll go crazy without anything to do. I’ll end up stress-baking and stress-eating, and when she comes back, Mom will comment on my weight…again.
Same old. Same old.
“I-I can’t.”
He’s about to say something when my stomach rumbles…loudly and embarrassingly. God, I’ve made such a great first impression with him, haven’t I? What’s next? Me slipping on the floor in front of him? Dammit, universe. I’ve just met the hottest man I’ve ever seen. Stop embarrassing me.
He chuckles and the sound is so unexpectedly sexy that I instinctively cinch my thighs together. “I’d love to hear you explain that comment, but we need to get inside. Don’t wanna be accused of starving my stepsister now, do I?”
Well, that puts a damper on things. Why does he have to remind me how we’re related? Ah well. It’s probably for the better. I shouldn’t have these thoughts about him, shouldn’t have this kind of reaction.
Weird but understandable. He looks like a Roman god, like those men I see on TV playing superheroes. That chest. Is it as hard as it looks? I want to run my hands—
He slides in the key, turns it, and pushes the heavy wooden door. Even his door looks expensive. Those intricate carvings on the sides? Yup. Definitely expensive. The door to my last apartment was one slam away from falling over me.
We step into the threshold, and my eyes quickly scan his space. For someone without a permanent home and can’t even afford a studio apartment, I’m pretty judgy with other people’s places. I don’t understand it either.
Rowan has an open-concept living area, with nothing but a sectional sofa upholstered in black leather, a wooden coffee table, and a huge TV mounted on the exposed brick wall. Simple. Minimalistic. And so…him.
“You can rest in your bedroom. I’ll make dinner.”
He leads me to a bedroom adjacent to the living room. Its walls are painted light gray. The queen-sized bed has a plush, upholstered headboard with diamond stitching. The crisp, white linens, fluffy pillows, and cozy dark gray duvet make me want to dive into the mattress and find out if it’s as comfy as it looks.
“Dad comes to stay here once in a while, so the room’s always ready.”
I whirl to face him and find his forehead still creased. “You need to stop doing that if you don’t want to have premature wrinkles”
Without thinking, I chuckle and reach out to smooth his forehead. His fingers fly to my wrist, holding it. Oh god.
We both stand in suspended animation, staring into each other’s eyes, the only sound is our heavy breathing. I’m not sure if he can hear, but my heart is beating wildly in my chest.
He sucks in a sharp breath as his fingers brush my forearm, my elbow, and rest on my upper arm. My cheeks are warm, my nerve endings crackling with sparks.
I don’t know how long we stand like that, but the spell is broken when a sharp chime pierces the silence. The sound echoes against the walls, and I feel a vibration in my back pocket.
Rowan’s pupils are blown, and he runs a hand along his five o’clock shadow. I can’t move. I can’t even look away.
But he gives me a sharp, tight nod. “You better get that. Might be important.”
It isn’t. It’s just my friend telling me her cousin, whom I met last year, lives near me and is throwing a Halloween party tomorrow. I don’t want to go, but I’m a pushover, which is why I say yes even if I have nothing to wear.
Minutes later, when I head to the kitchen, I find a microwaved lasagna on the counter. Rowan is nowhere to be found.
****
It is almost midnight and I still can’t sleep.
I’m curled up in bed, the thunder rumbling outside like a beast. Each burst of lightning illuminates the room, and I shut my eyes every time, afraid of finding a silhouette outside my window.
This is yet another reason why I hate Halloween. It amps up my overactive imagination.
Pulling the covers tighter around me, I try to focus on my breathing, but I can’t ward off the fear. The drumming of rain outside the windowpane sends shivers down my spine.
Ugh. I don’t like this town.
I’m a scaredy cat and I scare easily. Like seriously. Some of my friends make fun of me, but it’s never funny when I’m frozen with fear.
I can’t take it anymore. I just can’t. I need a distraction. Maybe there’s a good show or movie on TV.
I jump out of bed, open the door, and sprint to the living room, trying to make myself smaller. I’m halfway there when I notice the door to Rowan’s bedroom ajar. I want to ignore it but…what if he left? What if I’m alone in this apartment right now? Oh god. Please no.
With a deep breath, I gently push his door open a little wider, praying he’s in bed sleeping soundly.
My skin tingles when I see him standing by the window, one hand braced on the frame. His back is hunched, and his other arm is doing something violent or aggressive.
What is he doing? Is he okay? Is something happening to him?
I step into the room, making as little noise as possible, which is fairly easy, especially with the booming thunder. As I get closer, realization dawns on me, and my pulse pounds in my temple.
“Oh, fuck. Yes, Raven. Yes. Just like that. Yes!”
The room starts to spin around me, and I twist my nightgown in my hand. I need to run back to my bedroom before he sees me. I have to. But I can’t move. I’m rooted to the spot, unable to look away no matter how hard I try. Something hot and unfamiliar unfurls in my stomach, my heart drumming against my ribs.
“Raven, my god!”
That snaps me out of it. I take slow, deliberate steps, holding my breath and hoping to make a quick, quiet exit.
I’m almost to the door when I fail to notice a table, and my foot grazes its leg. The paperweight resting on the edge tumbles to the hardwood floor with a sharp clink, but it’s enough to grab Rowan’s attention.
He swings his head to the source of the sound, his piercing gaze landing on me. His eyes bulge out of its sockets, his mouth hanging open.
Before he can say another word, I make a mad dash to my bedroom and lock it, leaning against the door and sliding to the floor, hands flying to my mouth.
I know what he was doing. I know, and my god, it’s the hottest thing I’ve ever seen. Without even touching myself, I’m 100% sure my panties are soaked.
