Stepbrother Backstage (The Hawthorne Brothers Book 3) (42 page)

“What are they like?” I ask her, sitting cross-legged on the
bed. I’ll take my sisterly girl talk whenever I can get it.

“Tough to say,” she shrugs, “They’re pretty quiet. Barely
said a word to me before they left. Real hot though.”

“Oh yeah?” I press.

“Yeah,” she replies, her long platinum hair falling across
her face as she glances down at her hands. So much for girl talk. Maybe a
different line of questioning would go over better?

“So…How has your gap year been so far?” I ask her. Rather
than starting college right away, Anna decided to take a year off. She’s a
wonderful photographer, and has been building up quite the portfolio in the
lead up to applying for art school. If that’s what she decides to do, that is.

“You really don’t have to do that,” she mutters, looking up
at me sharply.

“Do what?” I reply, taken aback.

“Make small talk with me,” she goes on, “I’m your sister,
not your dentist.”

“Well, you’re not really giving me an opening Anna,” I
reply, “I’m just trying to—”

“Look,” she cuts me off, “Things are going to be weird
between us, Sophie. It’s inevitable. I just wish you wouldn’t try to muscle
through it. You’re supposed to be the one other Porter woman who’s as allergic
to bullshit as I am, right?”

“What,” I reply, a sly smile spreading across my face, “You
don’t want me to puke rainbows and butterflies all over you like Mom does?”

“Or obsess about saying the perfect thing
—
at the perfect time
—
to the point of
insanity, like Maddie,” she adds, invoking our older sister’s pathological
tendency for perfectionism.

I laugh, relishing this taste of my and Anna’s childhood
dynamic. Madeleine is three years older than me, and claimed Dad as her best
friend long before I or Annabel showed up on the scene. With Mom off in the
clouds, Anna and I were left to our own devices most of the time, and the
friendship that sprung up between us is deeper than any I’ve ever known. Maybe
there’s hope for us yet?

“Just be real with me, Sophie,” Anna goes on, fixing her big
blue eyes on my face, “Isn’t that what your fancy drama school is supposed to
be teaching you how to do?”

“Sure, onstage,” I laugh, “Real life is far more
complicated.”

“Tell me about it,” she sighs, lying back on the twin bed.

I lay down beside her, staring up at the gently spinning
ceiling fan. In this moment, I can feel the distance between us collapse just a
hair. What I wouldn’t give to feel that closeness that used to be such a given
between us again.

“For real then,” I say to her, turning my face toward hers
on the pillow, “How are you actually doing, Annabel?”

“For real?” she replies, rolling onto her side to face me,
“Better, lately. Being out of that hell hole of a high school has helped.”

“No kidding,” I laugh, “That place couldn’t handle you,
anyway.”

“It’s more that I was bored stiff by the end,” she tells me,
“The whole thing just felt so…irrelevant, after Dad…”

“Yeah,” I say softly, “I don’t know how I would have faked
giving a shit about prom and college applications and whatever after losing
him.”

“You’re lucky,” she says, “You got to go off and study
something you actually cared about. Imagine trying to sit through
abstinence-only sex ed while your entire world was being blown apart.”

“Good lord,” I groan, “They’re still doing abstinence only?
Are they out of their minds?”

“Just very, very repressed,” she says, rolling her eyes,
“How did we get stuck in the only conservative bubble in Vermont, I ask you?”

“Just lucky I guess,” I smile ruefully. “But you’re free
now, right?”

“Right. And since Mom’s been away playing Backwoods Barbie, I’ve
had the farmhouse to myself, too.”

A twinge of jealousy runs through me at this. The Porter
family home is built on a sprawling piece of farmland in rural Vermont. Mom and
Dad found the place just after he got his first teaching job at a university nearby,
and spent the next twenty years building it into their dream home. Mom had
plenty of space to paint and sculpt, and the three of us girls had full reign
of the fields and woods all around. It really was something of a dream…before.

“I’m really glad you decided to come out here, Soph,” Anna
goes on, a rare hint of softness coming into her voice.

“Me too,” I tell her, “Even taking Mom’s little surprise
into account. I really needed to get off campus for a second, myself.”

“How come?” she asks.

“Oh, just some boring boy trouble…” I tell her vaguely.

“Go on…” she presses, pulling herself onto an elbow.

“Well,” I sigh, doing the same, “I
may
have gone and
gotten myself a little crush on one of my teaching assistants…”

“Yeah, that sounds like you,” she observes.

“And I
may
have made out with him in the bathroom of
a bar on the last night of classes,” I go on.

“Uh huh. Still follows,” she nods.

“And I
may
be having a little trouble thinking about
anything but how much I want to jump his bones,” I finish in a rush, rolling
miserably onto my back.

“Damn,” Anna whistles, “I don’t think I’ve ever seen you
hung up on a guy like this.”

“That’s because he’s not just any guy,” I confide in her,
“Seriously, Anna. This dude is perfect. He’s smart, and gorgeous, and he stands
up for the right thing no matter what. And you should see the size of his—”

“OK, OK, I get the picture. He’s perfect,” she cuts me off,
“But if you’re so nuts about him, what’s the problem? I’ve never known you to
hold back on going after whatever guy struck your fancy.”

“It’s different with him,” I tell her, “I’m used to guys
falling all over themselves for a chance to get in my pants. I’ve never had to
work at snagging one before. But his guy? He’s…harder to get a read on, I
guess.”

“Maybe now you’ll know what it feels like to be a mere
mortal, where men are concerned,” Anna teases me, “Now that your sex goddess
jig is up.”

“You should talk,” I shoot back, “Have you
seen
yourself lately? When the hell did you get drop dead gorgeous?”

“Changing the subject, are we?” she grins, “Fine. But if you
need to unburden your aching heart…Make sure to find another sounding board. I
can’t stand that mushy shit.”

“There’s the Anna I know and tolerate,” I laugh, giving her
a shove off the bed.

“At your service,” she smiles, springing up on her mile-long
legs and heading for the door, “Now, if you’ll excuse me, this welcome wagon
has reached the end of its line.”

She disappears down the hall, leaving me alone at last. The
quiet of the woods is almost startling, after living with hundreds of rowdy
undergrads all year. In the gathering silence, I find it nearly impossible to
drag my thoughts away from Luke Hawthorne once more. Letting Anna in on my
secret romance only underlined the extent to which I’ve been pining for him.
She’s right. I’ve never been this hung up on a guy before. Maybe I should just
do something about it already, instead of waiting for him to come around.
What’s the worst that could happen?

Energized, I spring across the room and dig my cellphone out
of my backpack. No new messages, but I won’t let that deter me this time. I sit
down on the bedroom floor and open my email, pulling up a new message window
and keying in Luke’s address. Here goes nothing.

Hey Luke,

Sophie here. Just wanted
to see how you were doing, after everything that happened at The Bear Trap.
Sorry for not getting in touch sooner, I guess I was a little embarrassed about
how I left things with you. Anyway, I’ll be back on campus in a couple of weeks
for summer classes. If you’ll be in the area and want to hang out, just let me
know. I’d love to pick things up where we left off.

Cheers,

Sophie Porter

“That’ll do for now,” I mutter, setting the phone on my
bedside table, “The ball’s in your court, Professor Hawthorne.”

I set off to explore the property on my own, since Anna’s
nowhere to be found. Maybe a nice hike in the woods will distract me from the
longing ache twisting my core at the very thought of my illusive, almost-lover.

Maybe.

Chapter Five

I don’t see much of my housemates for the rest of the night.
Anna keeps herself busy, wandering around the expansive property with her
camera, and Mom and John sit on the verandah together, drinking and talking in
hushed tones. Not that I mind a little me-time after a long day of travel. The
peace and quiet will give me some time to settle into my new digs.

Returning to my bedroom just after ten, I decide to indulge
in a late-night yoga session to sooth my weary muscles. I go to fetch my travel
mat from the depths of my backpack, and absentmindedly glance at my phone en
route. There’s a message waiting for me. It’s probably from Maddie, who’s put
off joining us until tomorrow, most likely out of self-preservation. Of all us
sisters, Maddie clashes with Mom the most violently. I unlock my phone and
glance down at the text, but it isn’t from my sister at all. It’s from a number
I’ve never seen before.

Hey. How’s it going?

Before I can ask who’s on the other side of the text, a
follow up message appears on my screen.

It’s Luke, btw. Your cell
number’s part of your email signature. Hope it’s cool I texted. 

My heart flies into my throat as I stare down at those
wonderful words. It’s only been a week since I’ve heard from Luke, but my body
responds like a long lost love has just come back to me after ten years at sea.
With trembling fingers, I tap out a reply.

Me: Hey Luke. Ofc it’s
cool—I’m glad to hear from you. All well?

Luke: Yeah, can’t
complain. Enjoying some time off. You?

Me: Same, kind of. Off on
a good ol’
family vacation. (Kill me.)

Luke: Hahaha, I know that
game. Hang in there. It’ll be over soon. You’ll be back at Sheridan before
long, right?

Me: Yep. In a couple of
weeks.

Luke: That’s good. I’ll be
working on campus all summer myself. And I miss seeing you.

I grant myself a moment of happy-dancing around my new
bedroom. Holy crap—Luke Hawthorne misses me? Composing myself as best I can, I
text him back.

Me: Even after my
less-than-graceful exit from The Bear Trap the other night?

Luke: Hey, it was a crazy
night. I don’t blame you for getting freaked out. I just hope our little
“private moment”
wasn’t what spooked
you.

Me: Not at all. It was
mostly the deranged skinhead. I rather enjoyed getting a private moment with
you, tbh.

Luke: That makes two of
us, then. I wouldn’t mind picking things up where we left off when you get
back, either.

There he goes, quoting my own emails back to me again. Not that
I mind, given the sentiment.

Me: Is that so?

Luke: Oh, it is. I haven’t
stopped thinking about the other night. How good it felt to finally get my
hands on you.

I have to sit down on my bed as a huge pang of lust shoots
through me. That spot between my legs starts pulsing with want, just
remembering what it was like to give myself over to Luke. I lay back on the
narrow bed and reply…

Me: That’s good to know…
Because I can’t stop thinking about you,
either. Especially what you could have done with those hands if we hadn’t been
interrupted.

Luke: Yeah? You wanted me
to keep touching you?

Me: I did. I really did.

Luke: I wanted even more
than that, if I’m being honest.

Me: Tell me.

Luke: Sure you can handle
it?

Me: I’m sure.

Luke: All right. Honestly,
I wanted to push you up against that door and fuck you until you screamed.

A gasp escapes my lips as I read Luke’s text. This was not
what I was expecting from our little correspondence, but hey—I’ll take it.

Me: That would have been
so hot…

Luke: Does it get you hot,
thinking about me driving my cock up inside of you?

Me: God yes. I might have
to take care of myself right now just picturing it.

Luke: Oh man. I love the
thought of you touching yourself while you text me…

In that case,
I think with a smile, double checking
to make sure I locked my bedroom door. Slowly, I let my knees fall open,
trailing my fingertips along my taut stomach and under the elastic waist of my
cotton shorts. I’m not surprised to find that I’m already wet just thinking
about Luke Hawthorne taking me hard and fast from behind. I trace my fingers
along the length of my slit, revving myself up as my imagination runs wild. A
new text from Luke appears on my phone:

Luke: Are you touching
yourself right now?

It takes me a minute in my distracted state, but I manage to
respond:

Me: Yes…

Luke: Keep going. Imagine
me grabbing you by the hair as I pound into you, pulling just hard enough for
you to really feel it.

Me: That’s what I want. I
want you to be a little rough with me.

Luke: Then think about my
fingers digging into your hips as I bear down on you. Imagine my cock splitting
you open, hitting you so hard and deep that you almost can’t stand it.

My mouth falls open as I bring my fingers up to my throbbing
clit. I trace quick, deliciously firm circles over that aching button as I
picture Luke poised above me, his perfect body straining with devastating lust.

Luke: Now think of us
alone in that lecture hall again. Imagine me flipping you over and laying you
out across the desk, totally naked. Think of me bringing my mouth to your
pussy, and rolling my tongue over your clit…

I let the phone drop from my hand as warm sensation mounts
in the pit of my belly, threatening to spill over. Though my knees begin to
quiver, I press on, sending myself hurtling over the edge. A sweeping orgasm
rolls through my body. I come hard thinking of Luke’s mouth against my sex, and
have to bite my lip to keep from moaning so loud the whole house will hear me.
Falling back against the bed, I stare up at the ceiling, amazed at what Luke
can do to me through texts alone.

My cell chirps beside me, and I pick up in a daze.

Luke: That did the trick,
huh?

Me: And then some.

Luke: Glad to be of
service.

Me: Hold on though…

Luke: What?

Me: You never let me get
into what I’d do to you…

Luke: By all means, share
with the class.

I roll onto my stomach, grinning as I let my dirtiest
fantasies fly. The hours wear on as Luke and I text well into the night, each
of us gunning to get the other off as many times as we can. By the time I
finally pass out, my entire body is spent and satisfied. I didn’t realize how
much tension my body had stored up since the last time I saw Luke. But until I
get to see him again in the flesh, I’m more than amenable to this particular
form of stress relief.

***

The next morning, I wake up feeling like a brand new woman.
I all but spring out of bed, make myself a delicious cup of strong coffee, and
take it out to the dock just as the sun is rising. I bask in the light of the
breaking day, feeling happier than I have in months. Years? And all because I
have something to look forward to again, once I arrive back at school. Nothing
can crush my good mood today.

After a nice long shower and lunch with Annabel, I decide to
make good on that yoga session I had planned for last night. Not that I mind it
being derailed for a steamy sexting session with the hottest man I’ve ever met,
of course. I have to say, I was blown away by the intensity of Luke’s plans for
me. The way he laid out exactly how he’d work me over. There was a raw,
ferocious need in those images he rolled out. I’ve never been with a guy who
wasn’t afraid to get a little dirty. These two weeks are going to be the
longest of my life.

It’s late afternoon by the time I begin my yoga practice on
the verandah. In the calm quiet of the woods, I lose myself in my breathing,
letting my mind go blissfully blank. The minutes fly by as I move through my
favorite sequences of stretches, luxuriating in the poses. So wrapped up am I
in my practice, that I don’t even notice that someone’s approaching until they
let out a little shriek of surprise as spotting my twisted limbs on the deck.

“Jesus Christ!” someone yelps from the top of the stairs.

I look up from my pose, a little annoyed at the abrupt
interruption. But I guess I should have anticipated it, knowing my older sister
was bound to arrive at some point today.

“Oh. Hey, Maddie,” I say, swimming up of my blissed-out
reverie. “One sec, I
’
m just finishing up my practice.”

“What are you practicing, exactly?” she asks me tersely,
watching as I unfold my body, “How to fit a corpse into a suitcase?”

I sit up to face her, failing to swallow a sigh. Madeleine
stands staring down at me with a skeptical look—her resting expression, as it
were. Though she’s a few years older than me, she’s as many inches shorter.
Often mistaken for the youngest of all us sisters, her body is petite and
compact where mine is athletically curvy. I used to get grumpy about her
adorably sexy physique, but I’ve grown to love my womanly body as I’ve moved
out of my teenage years. What I’ve never grown to love is the patronizing tone
my older sister takes with me when she’s trying to keep things chipper.

“It
’
s yoga, Maddie,” I tell her flatly,
“Surely you
’
ve heard of it.”

The corners of her mouth turn down at my curt response. I
can see her fighting the urge to roll her gold-flecked blue eyes—the same eyes
that our mother passed down to all three of her daughters. With Herculean
restraint, she stops herself from bickering with me right from the get-go.
We’ve always had a way of getting on each other’s last nerve from the start.

“Did you know this place was going to be a mansion?” she
asks finally, crossing her arms, “There
’
s no way Mom can
be affording this easily.”

Oh, dear. It looks like Maddie wasn’t briefed about the
details of this trip either. She has no idea about John, or his sons, or the
fact that our mother has been living here for the past couple of months or so.
On the bright side, I get to watch her head explode as she learns the true
nature of this little getaway. Maddie is an obsessive over-thinker, phased by
the smallest wrinkle in her plans. I can’t help but be a tiny bit amused as she
unknowingly steps up to a wrinkle the size of a mountain.

Sure enough, my older sister’s mind promptly melts as our
mother sweeps in and divulges the salacious details of her stay in Montana.
Anna and I trail along as Maddie is introduced to John—the latest of Mom’s
unlikely paramours. To her credit, Maddie keeps it together just long enough
for us girls to escape into the backyard. When the levees finally break, I’m
there to lend her a shoulder to cry on. I forget how hard Dad’s death hit her
sometimes. He really was her hero, her role model. Seeing Mom with another man
is harder on her than it is on me.

Luckily, something comes along to distract all of us Porter
girls from our discomfort. Finally, we get to meet one of John’s sons in the
flesh. He roars up out of the woods on an ATV, nearly mowing us over in the
process. Anna wasn’t kidding about these boys being hot as hell. This one, who
tells us his name is Cash, has the bad boy biker thing down pat. His body is
covered in heavy black ink, and his dark curly hair hangs just above his
collar. Definitely easy on the eyes, but not really my type. The second he
opens his mouth, I can tell there’s more brawn than brains to him.

What can I say? I like my men sharp.

Things cool down a bit as the four of us Porter women set to
making dinner. John’s expecting his two younger sons home tonight, so it’ll be
the first time that all eight of us will be in the same place at once. My mom
is fluttering around the kitchen like a deranged 50’s housewife, bent on
everything being perfect for our first big group dinner. Maddie’s lost in her
own thoughts as she hacks away at a pile of vegetables, and Anna is quiet as a
mouse as she makes sure Mom doesn’t accidentally lose a finger or something in
her frenzy.

Me? I make myself comfortable with a glass of Merlot at the
rough-hewn kitchen table. Someone’s got to taste-test the wine pairings for
tonight, right?