Pucking Stepbrother (Devils of Sable Lakes #1.5)

Chapter Three

Nate

Walking into the large room once she’s gone, I glance around at the lavish hotel style room, with its expensive Versace linen, marble tables and gold fixtures. No wonder she left us for this. My dad has money but not this level of money. Everything in this home oozes grandeur, including the spoiled rich kid that lives in it.

I spot my car keys on the bedside table, along with a bottle of San Pellegrino and a glass. The old guy in the penguin suit must have brought my keys up here when I was downstairs. I pad across the room to the double doors that lead to the balcony to make sure they’re unlocked and easy to open. I hate to sleep locked in a room; the feeling suffocates me and makes it hard to breathe sometimes.

Leaving the main door to the room open, I know I’m showing my vulnerable side but fuck them if they think any less of me because of my fears. I never shut the door to any room I sleep in. Ever since I was a little kid, I’ve needed my room to be left wide open, so my nightmares can’t haunt me in my sleep.

Rolling my shoulders, the tension in them aches like a bitch, and I decide a hot shower is exactly what I need. Heading into the bathroom, I spot more marble, gold fixtures, and a jacuzzi the size of a small pool sitting center stage. The grandeur of this place is nauseating.

Turning on the shower, I let the room steam up before getting undressed. Climbing into the shower, I let the steaming hot water massage my shoulders, back and stomach. Compared to the quick showers I had on my drive over here in the truck stops, this feels like heaven. Soaping up, I scrub myself from head to toe twice to ensure I get every last trace of that fucker off my skin. He always made me feel dirty and like it was my fault he did the things he did to me.

After a good half hour of just staring through the glass, I turn off the shower and climb out. I realize I left the bathroom door slightly ajar, and all the steam escaped into the main bedroom. Not bothering to dry off, I wrap the towel around my waist and make my way back into the main bedroom in search of the television remote.

Glancing up, I see my new stepbrother leaning against the doorjamb, his muscled arms folded across his chest, wearing a scowl that masks his hidden desires. He’s delusional if he thinks he can hide his obvious ogling. I turn to face him and let him get a better look at all my ink that covers my half naked body. His jaw twitches and every muscle in his face tenses when our eyes clash. The intensity of his glare burns into me and torches my bare skin. Cocking my head to the side, I purposely let my towel fall to the ground. I watch him intently as his nostrils flare and his gaze rakes over me, from my legs all the way up, pausing a moment too long on my semi hard cock and then up to meet my sinister smirk. He disappears before I can make a smart-ass comment, but I know that I got under his skin and am making him question his sanity.

Sleep evades me, so I spend the night watching Netflix mindlessly, waiting for what the day brings. The guest room is too fucking bright this early in the morning, and the sheer white curtains do jack shit to keep the morning light out. I pull on a pair of black track pants that are neatly left for me in a pile with other clothes that were placed on the sofa. Someone must have realized that I’d come here with nothing but the clothes on my back. I hadn’t had time to grab my shit before I left home, and I sure as hell wasn’t going to go back anytime soon. Checking my phone for the time, it's five in the morning. Perfect. It probably means everyone is still asleep, and I’ll have the place to myself to go search for coffee.

Pausing at the door, I peer up and down the hallway looking for signs of anyone being awake, I don’t hear or see any movement and decide to head toward the stairs. I don’t even manage to take two steps when Asher appears at the bottom wearing only a pair of gym shorts and a towel draped around his neck. He ignores my existence and continues to climb the stairs toward me. I must hand it to the guy; the steroids are doing wonders for his muscles. Saliva pools in my mouth as he nears, the sweat sheen over his body makes my dick stir in my pants and I don’t bother to hide my obvious ogling. Standing in the middle of the stairs, I’m purposely blocking his path to piss him off.

He looks enraged as he reaches the step below where I’m standing. His hot gaze pauses on my tattooed pecs before it turns to rage. “Get the fuck out of my way.” He barges past me, knocking me into the wall.

“Don’t act like you don’t love it,” I tease, and that’s when he turns on me.

His hand flicks out gripping my throat before I can collect my thoughts and work out what the fuck is going on.

“What did you fucking say, trailer park?” I watch his throat bob up and down as he swallows his desires and squeezes his fingers until I can barely breathe, slamming me harder into the wall.

I enjoy the constriction of his hand around my throat a little too much, and I grin at him, hoping to piss him off some more. Stepping into me, his hot breath fans across my cheek as his hard body presses into mine. “I’m not like you. Do you understand me? Stay the fuck out of my way, or I’ll make your life a living hell. Got it?” His growl whispers across my skin.

Standing pressed against me, I know he’s turned on from the thick bulge in his shorts. He can try to deny his attraction as much as he wants, but we both know the truth here. He lets go of me and continues up the remainder of the stairs pretending like nothing happened. I watch his back as he stalks up the hall and disappears into his room, slamming the door after him.

Descending the stairs in search of a coffee machine, I rub my hand over my throat, the tender flesh making my dick twitch. Staying here for a few days might just be more fun than I first thought now that I know I’ve gotten under Asher’s skin.

The holy grail of coffee machines sits like a shining beacon in the butler’s pantry, and I thank my lucky stars that someone in this house likes to drink proper coffee and not that drip crap. This machine is a beast, and I set about making myself a short black to start with. Once I’ve thrown back the shot of coffee, I grab the milk from the refrigerator and go about making myself a double shot flat white. The aroma of freshly brewed coffee fills the air and takes me back to my earliest childhood memories of my mom making herself coffee first thing in the morning.

“I’ll have half a sugar in mine.” Her sing-song voice echoes in my ears.

I half turn to see her dressed in tailored pants and a crisp white shirt. Her hair is pulled back tightly into a low bun, and she looks like she means business. The complete opposite of what I envisioned her to be all these years.

After making our coffees I join her at the kitchen island. She takes her cup and sips it slowly, most probably wondering what the hell to say to me, her grown ass tattooed son. I’m just as silent and prefer to sit with my own thoughts than start shit for no reason this early in the morning.

“A condition of you staying here is to attend college. I have already emailed the Dean of Pembroke Hall that you will be there today. You haven’t missed much as it’s still orientation week. You also have a room in the Clubs Frat House if you wish to stay there. I know you probably don’t want to see me every day and I figure if we’re going to make a go of this, then I need to give you some space and we ease into this new relationship,” she says matter of fact, as though she has any right to tell me what to do with my life.

“The fuck I am.” I stare at her in bewilderment.

“Don’t ruin your life because you were handed shit parents, Nate. I know I have no right to tell you to do anything, and I know it’s too late to try to make up for the past, but please do this for yourself.” She watches me carefully, her gaze never faltering from mine.

“And if I don’t attend college?” I test her.

“You’re out on your own.” She doesn’t even blink spitting those words at me.

Honestly, what did I expect from her? She left me behind all those years ago that throwing me out on the streets now wouldn’t even phase her. Deep down I know I have no choice here. It’s either suffer and go to this college she’s picked for me or starve on the streets. I just need to get through the next few days, weeks at most until I get my shit sorted, and then I can leave this bright hell hole and forge my own path.

“Fine,” I grumble like a child. “Don’t you want to ask why I’m here?”

She smiles at me. “You’ll tell me when you’re good and ready. I don’t want to push things now that I have you here. I want us to be friends.” Her hand reaches out to touch my arm but stops mid-reach before realizing what she’s doing. “I know this will be hard for both of us, navigating this new and raw relationship. I want you to know I support you in anything you need. I’m here for you even though I know it’s hard for you to trust me.” She sighs before placing her mug in the dishwasher.

Drinking my coffee and wallowing in self-pity at the thought of going to some pretentious college where I know I won’t fit in; I think back on the last few days and wonder how my little sister is doing. The last thing I wanted to do was leave her behind with those poor excuses for parents.

“The college and frat details are on the desk in your room. I’m guessing you’ll be driving your car today?” She interrupts my thoughts.

“I’ll drive myself.”

“There’s some cash for gas and lunch on the table in your room. Let me know if you need more. I have to go to work, but I’ll see you tonight for dinner if you want to come back here.” She stands awkwardly next to the counter for a moment before she turns and leaves me alone in the kitchen before I can say no thanks to the dinner invitation.