Family Secrets (4 page)

“Me too!  Have you seen their new hessian and lace inspired skirt?”

“No, I haven’t.”

“Oh, my gosh! You have to come with me right now. I have it, as of yesterday, and I’m just
dying
to show it off.”  She takes my hand and drags me up the flight of stairs and down to her room, which is at the opposite end of the hall to mine.

Her bedroom is tasteful with a girly element to it.  Her walls are white, matching her furniture.  Pale pinks and lilacs are scattered throughout her décor, along with flowers and candles.  Frames filled with pictures of Madeline and her friends line the walls and her dresser.  I don’t have time to look at them because she darts into her closet before returning seconds later holding up the most gorgeous skirt.  The entire thing is made of the softest hessian I’ve ever felt.  The bottom is lined with a thick band of soft pink lace.  It’s stunning.

“Wow, that is beautiful.”

“I know, right?!”  She strokes the skirt.  “It looks amazing on.  They have the lace in all different colors, including this ridiculously gorgeous dove grey color that I just
know
would look amazing on you.  We have to go shopping tomorrow.”

“Okay, that sounds great.” I smile, glad to have made her a friend so easily.

“Let’s go down for lunch.” 

My smile stays in place until we reach the table, and I see Brock sitting there with his father and my mother.

“I see you two have made friends,” my mother comments, sounding proud.

“We have.  We’re going shopping tomorrow,” Madeline answers.

“Lovely.”

Lunch is served and even though I try my hardest to avoid looking across at Brock, I slip up a few times, and every time I do, I find his eyes on me.  It’s unnerving and flattering all that same time.  A strange combination that has me feeling confused and excited all at once.

“Tomorrow evening I expect you all to be home by six.  We have a few important guests coming for dinner.”

“Yes, Daddy,” Madeline replies.  Brock grunts, and I say a quiet, “Yes, sir.” 

After we’ve eaten, I manage to leave the table without glancing at Brock again.  For some reason he just gets to me.  It’s probably his insane good looks, but who knows.  He’s my stepbrother so I need to get a grip.

*~*

It’s funny how attraction and lust can be either instant or gradual.

When I bumped into Brock in the hall, I felt immediate attraction – he is gorgeous, so it’s only natural.  But, it’s more than that.  Something deeper.  Something I can’t explain.

“Coffee?” Brock asks, holding the pot of black liquid up.  He is sitting across the table from me at breakfast.  I do my best to keep my head down, but he makes it difficult, always trying to engage me in conversation.

“No, thank you,” I reply, ducking my head again after making brief eye contact.  His eyes are gorgeous.  The most unusual shade of blue-green I have ever seen.

Five minutes pass while everyone else makes small talk. 

“Syrup, Cassidy?” Brock asks as a plate of pancakes is placed on the table.

“Thank you,” I say, taking the jug. 

“Have you started school here yet?” he asks, again attempting to engage me in conversation.  He implores me to look into his eyes, not realizing how easy it is for a girl to get lost in their enticing depths.

“No.  I start next week.”

“If you need anything, let me know.”

“Thank you.”  I eat my breakfast, the entire time aware of his intense gaze on me.

His foot brushes mine under the table, and I gasp as a bolt of zapping electricity shoots up my leg.  My eyes instantly dart to his, and I find his narrow gaze on me, assessing me.

A few seconds later, I feel it again; the brush of his foot against mine.  A bolt of energy shoots through me and I forget to breathe for a second.  I refuse to look at him again, though.  That just makes my feelings more pronounced.

Five more minutes pass and I finish the last bite of my pancakes.  This time when his foot makes contact, he doesn’t remove it right away.  He lets it linger and the electricity builds, like a current, zapping between us, radiating energy and sparks so strong I’m sure if I peeked under the table I would be able to
see
it.

Unable to resist, I look over at him through my lashes.  His eyes are, once again, on me.  His finger is tracing his lip, back and forth slowly.  He is lost in contemplation.

I move my foot away and the shock that results causes me to physically jolt. 
Our connection is literally electric.
  His gaze shoots to mine and he takes in the heated, scarlet color of my cheeks before smirking.

Then, he places the foot right back against mine.

Bastard.

*~*

“Are you almost ready to go?” Madeline asks, poking her head through my bedroom door.

“Yes, I’ll be right out.”  I grab my purse and my phone, slide my feet into my sandals, and then I’m ready to go.

Madeline drives us downtown and she parks the car before we begin walking up and down the boutique lined streets.

“This shop is amazing,” she says, pointing to a little store named
Serendipity
.  We go inside and I immediately begin browsing through the racks of gorgeous clothes.  I manage to purchase two really beautiful tops.  They’re both the same Peplum style, but one is black with an overlay of dark blue lace, and the other is plain purple.

“Does this make my butt look big?” Madeline asks, exiting the changing room in a hideous bright red dress.

I hold back my laughter.  “Definitely not,” I manage to say.

“Are you sure?  Does it suit my complexion?” she asks, fighting a grin.

“You look
so
hot,” I tell her.

We both burst out giggling.  That is how the rest of the day is spent.  We go from boutique to boutique, trying on ridiculous outfits and making each other laugh.  We actually do manage to purchase a few nice things each, but the highlight of the day is definitely the laughs we had.

*~*

I can’t sleep.  This sometimes happens, not regularly, but often enough to annoy me.  Making my way downstairs, I plod into the kitchen, making sure to be extra quiet.  Even though the house is massive and the chance of waking someone is minimal, I still don’t want to accidentally rouse anyone from their sleep. 

Opening the fridge, I pull out the jug of milk and pour myself a glass.  I warm it up and then stand at the window, looking outside into the dead of night, as I slowly sip my drink.  I always find warm milk helps me sleep.

I’ve almost finished my glass when I feel a presence in the room.  My heart thuds as fright consumes me.  Spinning around, my breath catches.  Brock is standing there, naked except for a pair of silk boxer briefs.  One arm is bent over his shoulder, scratching his back, fully displaying every contour and ripple of his toned stomach.

“Can’t sleep?” he asks, his voice husky from tiredness.

I swallow and feel my cheeks turn scarlet at the thought that he caught me staring.

“Uh, no, unfortunately,” I say through a grimace.

“I know something that can help you sleep,” he replies, a suggestive lilt to his tone, made more pronounced as he begins stalking toward me.  I back up into the window, the cool glass a stark contrast to the fire that is sizzling through my veins.

“W-what’s that?” I find myself asking.

He bends down, skimming his nose across my jaw.

“You smell good, Cassidy,” he whispers, and a shiver of delight runs down my spine.

This is wrong
.

Why does it feel so right?

“What are you doing?” I whisper.

“You’re so tempting,” he murmurs, not answering my question.  “A little temptress, sent down from heaven to entice men like me,” he muses.

“I’m just me,” I reply.

“Yes, you are,” he agrees with a growl, his tongue striking out to touch my earlobe in a moment so brief, I’m not quite sure it really happened.  Still, my knees wobble.

“Now you can go to bed and dream of all things I want to do to you.  Use your imagination” he says, smirking.  He touches his finger to my nose, and with a wink, he turns and walks away, leaving me staring at his tanned, muscular back as I pant, trying to reclaim my breath.

*~*

I can’t stop thinking about him.  About that night in the kitchen.  About all the other little moments similar to that, that have happened since.

He says I’m tempting.  But,
he’s
the tempting one.  He is making me feel all sorts of confusing and conflicting emotions that I am unsure of how to handle.  He invades my thoughts, consuming every moment of my day.  It is impossible for me to focus on my schoolwork, when all I can think about is him, the way he makes me feel. 

All kinds of scenarios have gone through my mind about what he would do to me if he were given the chance.

I so want him to have that chance.

A heated look from him causes me to blush. The slightest touch has my skin shivering, even though I burn up.  He is taking possession of my body and he doesn’t even know it.

And it’s so wrong.  My mother would have a heart attack if she even suspected something was happening between us.

The problem is, the more the temptation presents itself, the harder it is to fight.  It is only a matter of time before my resolve crumbles.

Then what?

THEN

“Cassidy, are you in here?” Madeline taps on my closed bedroom door a week later.

“Yep. Come on in.”

She strolls and plops down on my bed.  Her long blonde hair falls effortlessly down her back in natural waves, with some wisps framing her flawless face.  She really is very pretty.  Her makeup is light, but you can hardly tell she’s wearing any at all; it’s applied that well.  I wonder if she’ll give me makeup tips if I ask her?  My mother has never been interested in doing that stuff with me, so I’ve had to experiment on my own.

“So, my friend Paisley just texted me, and there’s a party she wants to go to.  She’s bringing her sister, Peyton, who’s your age.  Do you want to come?”

“Uh, I guess.  I’ll have to ask my mother first, though.”

“Oh, it’s fine. I already told Daddy we’re both going and he was cool with it.”  She beams at me.

“Do I have a curfew?” My mother has never let me leave the house at night without a strict curfew of ten p.m.

“Nope.  Get dressed and let’s go.  We’ve got to meet them in an hour.”

“Okay.”  I grin, getting excited now.  “What should I wear?”

“Something comfortable.  Jeans and a cute top?”

“Okay.  Let me get dressed and I’ll meet you in a bit.”

When she leaves, I quickly tug on a pair of dark wash skinny jeans with pale blue stitching.  I choose a dark grey sweater that falls off one shoulder to wear on top, and then pull on my knee-high, black boots.  After running a brush through my hair, I decide to leave it down, so I spray some hair product in it and give it a scrunch.  My waves look nowhere near as good as Madeline’s, but they’ll have to do.  I apply some mascara and a sweep of pale pink gloss and I’m good to go.

Madeline swings open her bedroom door just before I knock.

“Wow! You look amazing. I love your top,” I tell her.  She’s wearing a Chinese-inspired silk tank with handkerchief bottom, and a pair of delicately ripped, super-faded jeans.

“Thank you.  You look beautiful, too.  I love your boots!” We link arms and walk out of the mansion giggling.

After a short drive in Madeline’s cherry-red convertible, we park in front of a massive home littered with people, cars, and empty Solo cups.

While we walked inside, I kept quiet, since I didn’t know anyone at all.  Madeline said a few hellos to the people she knew, and then finally we came to a stop with Madeline hugging the girl in front of us.

“Ladies, this is my new stepsister, Cassidy.  Cassidy this my best friend, Paisley and her sister, Peyton.”

The girls look exactly the same.  Long, silky black hair, almond-shaped eyes, and flawless skin.

“Nice to meet you.” I smile.

“Nice to meet you, too.  Come on, let’s go get a drink,” Peyton says, tugging my arm.  I glance back at Madeline, who waves me away and then goes about her own business.

“What do you drink?”

“Uh, what do they have?”

“Vodka?  Beer?”

Shit.
I’ve never had alcohol before.   “Vodka, thanks.” 
I hope I like it.

She hands me a plastic cup of orange liquid.  “Vodka orange,” she explains, before taking a sip of her own.

The taste of vodka isn’t overpowering, and it’s surprisingly nice.  I drink some more.  “Yum.”

“You like to dance?”

“Yes.”

“Cool. Let’s go.”

Peyton and I danced and drank for hours.  I’m not sure how many vodka oranges I’ve had but I am feeling on top of the world.   A slow, grinding song comes on and I’m moving my hips to the beat when I feel a pair of hands grasp my hips.  This isn’t the first time it has happened tonight.  In fact, I have danced with a few guys, so has Peyton.  It was fun.  None of them got grabby or moved their hands lower than my back, so I was happy to dance with them.

But, this is different. This guy is grinding against my ass, and boy, can he
grind.
  I have never grinded before tonight (with another person) and it is fun!  Beads of sweat accumulate on my forehead and a sea of bodies converges on the makeshift dance floor, all wanting to take advantage of the popular song playing.  It’s so dark you can barely see the person beside you and I hope Peyton is still near me.  My eyes close and my head falls back, heavy from the alcohol, to rest on the shoulder of the mystery grinder.  His front is completely molded to my back.  His hands slide around my stomach and grasp my hands, bringing them over my head to rest behind his neck, holding him to me.

I feel giddy, excited, on top of the world.  I’m seventeen and at a party (one that doesn’t consist of rich hob-nobs my mother associates with) and I don’t have a curfew.  Plus, I’m three parts drunk.  It’s a great night.  The music is so loud it feels like it’s actually pumping through my veins.  The guy behind me is solid. I can feel the hardness of his muscular torso as he rubs against me.

My eyes spring open as the feeling of being watched floods my body.  I squint in the darkness, trying to see who is watching me so intently they are making my skin feel as if it’s burning.

Then I see him.  Even from here I can see the bright blue-green of his eyes.  They are on fire now.  No twinkle of mischief or amusement hiding in their depths.  They are hard, set,
burning.
  My tummy flips.  I’m vaguely aware of the guy behind me, sliding his flattened palms over my stomach.  His thumb comes to a rest just below my breast, and Brock’s eyes zero in, a scowl twisting his lips.

Shit.

He steps further onto the dance floor and crooks his finger.

Not wanting to cause a scene, I move out of the guy’s arms, briefly giving him a smile (or grimace) over my shoulder.  He’s hot.  I see that right away.  Not the make-your-knees-weak kind of hot that Brock is, but still really handsome.  Blond shaggy hair, tanned skin, and a killer smile.  He’ll have no trouble finding another dance partner. 

“Is something wrong?” I ask a still stony-faced Brock when I reach him.

He bends down, his lips almost touching my ear.  “Stay away from that dude.” 

A light bulb goes off in my brain.  Of course, Brock would know the people here.  He’d know who’s a good guy and who isn’t.

“We were only dancing.”

“He wants in your panties, Cassidy.”

“Oh,” I mouth, realization fully setting in.

“Dance with me,” he all but growls, sending a shiver of something good down my spine.

“Um.” I try to protest, but before I can, Brock grabs my hips and pulls me flush against his front.  One meaty thigh slides between my legs, while his palm flattens on my lower back, just above my ass.

Then, he begins to dance.  Like,
dirty
dance. 

Holy crap.

He moves our bodies in complete synchronization, and I can do nothing except enjoy the ride.

“Relax, Cassidy.”

“What if someone sees?” I ask into his ear, worried that we’ll be sprung.

“No one can see us.  It’s too dark.  Relax, baby.”

Crap.
 
I really like it when he calls me baby.

I turn my face into his neck and inhale his delicious scent – mint, sweat, and the most deliciously intoxicating deodorant I’ve ever smelled.  My head rests on his shoulder, and if I pucker my lips, they’d meet the skin of his neck.  I could taste him if I wanted to do.  Damn, I want to.  But, it’s wrong. 
So wrong.
  My mother would pitch a fit if she found out about this.

Suddenly, we’re moving.  The people surrounding are no longer, and we’re alone in a dark hall recess.

“What are we doing?” I whisper to the darkness.

“Dancing,” he replies.  The thrum of the music can still be heard probably a mile away, so there are no issues hearing it a few feet away from the main room.  Brock pushes me further into the wall and starts moving his body against mine.  I know I shouldn’t, but I can’t help myself. 

Relaxing into him, I give in to the temptation, convincing myself that it’s just for tonight, and it never happened if you were drunk.

Right?

In the early hours of the morning, Madeline and I tiptoe into the house, and I fall into bed with a giant, drunken, smile on my face.  Tonight, I found myself a new friend in Peyton, and I danced three times with Brock.  The last part I shouldn’t be so happy about it, but I still am.

Deliriously.