Save Me: a Stepbrother Romance Page 5

  Cal hurt for me.

  “Should I go?” he asked.

  His flat voice hid the pain underneath.

  “No.” I shook my head. I refused to cry. And besides, the shock was numbing me to normal emotions.

  Cal closed the door behind him and hesitantly walked towards me, taking a seat beside me on the floor. The warmth of his body wrapped around mine, melting the coldness that froze me. In my shell-shocked haze, I couldn’t resist. I leaned over and rested my head on his shoulder.

  He paused, confused. But after a moment, he melted into me, taking me into his arms like it was the most natural thing in the world.

  “I can’t believe it,” I said. “I never thought….”

  “I told you. He’s a fucking idiot.” Cal drew his arm around me tighter. I closed my eyes, enjoying the sensation. It was the first real warmth I had felt in a long time. “Has he admitted it yet, or is he too much of a fucking coward?”

  I glanced at my blank phone, and he did too. “He might just have his phone on silent….”

  Even I knew that was bullshit. Cal groaned.

  “I’m sorry. If you’d let me, I’d kill him for you.”

  I rolled my eyes despite myself and gulped a laugh, shocked by how something so lighthearted could happen when I was so out of it.

  “Vanessa Miller, though? And … and other girls?” I looked down at the hands in my lap. Callum’s hands laced their fingers in mine. A strangely comforting movement. “I can’t believe it.”

  “Yeah, well. He’s a dick. I assumed you knew about it.”

  I nodded to myself even though I still couldn’t process it. I think I was nodding about something else—Callum being near me. Cal was so warm, so strong, so safe. I never wanted him to let go. His fingers began combing through my hair and he muttered soft, comforting words into my ear. His breath against my skin felt delicious.

  I wanted to taste it.

  I wanted to take Callum in and embrace him so hard that he became a part of me. It was stupid. But it was true. Even Mom, with her home grown Oprah wisdom, had never known me like Callum knew me, at least at this moment.

  I remembered what he said the other day:

  I see you. I know.

  Still shell-shocked and a little out of my mind, I nuzzled my nose into his neck, inhaling the deep, masculine scent he had left on my pillow that night. Callum froze.

  “Natalie?”

  We met eyes for the first time since he sat down. His gaze lowered, fixing itself on my lower lip and the way it opened and quivered for him. His tongue ran along his own lips as he watched me, and the pulse in his throat throbbed hard. His fingers pressed into my skin, drinking in the feel of me underneath his strong grip.

  Something glowed behind his eyes, something hard and hungry and fiery. It had started warm, but now it was burning. It was something that made my stomach do little flips and my hands tremble.

  Callum Gatlin wants me.

  No. Impossible. Ridiculous.

  But then why was he looking at me like that?

  Why was his grip on me tightening? And not in the threatening way that Nate’s did, but a new, strange one. One that made my trembling hands want to run their fingers through his dark hair.

  No! He was my stepbrother.

  Like I said, impossible.

  The shock was tricking me. I was out of my mind. I was hungry for his warmth and concern and reading too much into it because I was desperate for someone. I should be ashamed.

  “I should go to sleep,” I said, closing my eyes and forcing the words out. I hated to say them. I didn’t want him to go. But I had to get him out of here before I did something stupid.

  “Are you sure?”

  Cal’s voice was strained. He didn’t want to leave either. But I couldn’t think about it. I couldn’t do anything I would regret later. I shook my head, taking every last bit of will to force myself to give in to reason.

  I was weak right now, and I was fucked up. I couldn’t let my weakness fuck up another person too.

  “I’m sure,” I whispered.

  The rest of the week was hell.

  Nate avoided me, disappearing at lunch and refusing to pick up his phone. Jess stayed with me. She explained that she have told me before had she known I was unaware about Nate cheating, and she dutifully handed me tissues under the bathroom stall door whenever I needed to cry alone.

  It killed me to find out about all the girls Nate had ploughed through, and it killed me even more to know that he was too much of a coward to admit it to my face. But as the week went on and the initial shock wore off, I nursed a deeper wound:

  The problem of Callum.

  My cheeks burned with embarrassment every time I saw him, humiliated by my actions that night. I couldn’t help but remember the way I had felt in his arms, the way I nuzzled his neck, the way his lip looked so bite-able. Or that I had let him see me cry and even let him stroke my hair. How could I be so stupid? So hormonal? So imperfect? Callum Gatlin was beginning to captivate me. He made my act break down, and that terrified me. For the first time in forever, someone was opening me up, seeing me for what I really was.

  I hated it.

  By the Friday of that week, I had mostly cleaned up. Or at least I was sure I could go out wearing mascara and not cry it off. But I still I needed a plan. I couldn’t let Nate win like this. I couldn’t let him have the satisfaction of seeing how badly I was taking this whole thing.

  And most of all, I needed to get out of the house, because being alone in a bedroom with Cal Gatlin and his strong arms and his delicious scent was the last thing I needed.

  I slapped on some lipstick and called Jess.

  “Do you need ice cream?” she said, answering the phone on the first ring. “I can be over with some Ben and Jerry’s in, like, ten minutes.”

  I smiled. “No. We’re going to the football game.”

  I could sense her smiling back at me on the other side of the line. “Thank God,” she mumbled. “I thought you were dying.”

  Close, but I wouldn’t give Nate that, either. Sobbing pathetic Nat was gone. Here comes vengeful bitch Nat.

  “You know he’s going to be there, right?” she asked, as if she could read my mind. Then again, we were best friends—she probably could. “Nate, I mean. Are you sure you want to go with him there? I, uh, I heard he was going with Vanessa….”

  Shit. That stung.

  “Good. I want him to fucking see me.” I pulled my t-shirt off and sifted through my closet. This changed everything. This wasn’t just some empowerment mission to make me feel like a functioning member of society—now I was angry. “I’m wearing Maneater, then.”

  Jess laughed. “God, Maneater? To a football game?”

  “Desperate times call for desperate measures.”

  “True.” She snorted a laugh again, and I heard the jingle of her car keys. “I’ll be over in ten. Wear a push-up bra too, he’ll hate that.”

  I ended the call and threw my phone on the bed. The sky was turning golden with the sunset, which meant I had about thirty minutes to pull on something sexy and get down to the field before the game started. My closet wasn’t cooperating, and I dug through it harder, searching for the blood red silk I needed. I had almost forgotten I was half naked when I heard the creak of the door being pushed open.

  I turned around, expecting to see Mom, but froze when I realized who it really was.

  Callum.

  “Sis, you got any—”

  He froze in the doorway, and his eyes grew wide. My mouth went dry when I saw his gaze lower, falling on my chest. My breasts were just barely covered by the black lace of my bra, now rising and falling with my panicked breaths.

  The cold air of the room gave me goosebumps as it carressed my soft, exposed flesh—or was that Cal’s gaze I was feeling? Mom hadn’t given me many of her curves, but what she did give me in the chest department was nice. Callum apparently thought so too, because he opened his mouth as if to speak, but
was speechless.

  He licked his lips, trying to find something to say.

  “Cal,” I rasped. “You should have knocked—”

  “Shit, sorry!” He shook his head, snapping out of it. Crimson ran to his cheeks. “Jesus, Nat, I’m sorry. I should have—I should have, uh, knocked….”

  He wants you, the annoying voice in my head whispered.

  Shut up, I snapped back. Why was I so angry at the voice? Was I worried it was true?

  I crossed my arms over my chest and watched as Cal turned away, his neck blushing red. He reached up and rubbed the back of his neck, obviously embarrassed as hell. Cal Gatlin? Being ashamed of something? I couldn’t help but smile. It was strange, feeling that comfortable with him that I could smile at something so awkward. But it was real. It felt safe.

  “You want something?” I asked. “Other than a peep show?”

  Cal gawked. I did too. Did that really just come out of my mouth? Bitch Nat was a bold woman. I liked her.

  “I—I don’t remember,” he stammered. His eyes darted to the door, looking for an escape route. I really was making him nervous. My smile grew. Adorable.

  “I mean if you wanted to look at my boobs, you could have just asked.”

  He rolled his eyes.

  “Look, do you have anything to say?” I asked. I glanced at the setting sun outside my window. “Because it’s getting late, and I have somewhere to be.”

  “Where?”

  “Football game. I’m goddam full of school spirit.”

  He snorted. “You know that douche will be there, don’t you?”

  “Jesus, does everybody in this town know what he’s up to besides me?” I snapped, throwing my hands up. My breasts bounced, and Cal’s eyes glanced down again. Then away, his cheeks even redder. I was absolutely devastating this boy.

  I wrapped my arms back over my chest again for his own protection. “Anyway, yeah, I’m still going. Deal with it.”

  “You can’t,” Cal growled. “Not while he’s there.”

  “Don’t fucking tell me what to do.”

  That was the one thing I had decided I was done with: stupid ass teenage boys deciding they get to control my life. Been there, done that, never doing it again. Even if this teenage boy in question happened to be wearing those thin sweatpants that revealed a little too much and made my mouth water.

  “You sound like Nate,” I added for good measure.

  Cal winced. I hit him in a weak spot. Good.

  “You know that’s not what I meant. It’s not safe.”

  “I like to live dangerously.”

  He rolled his eyes again, this time even more exaggeratedly. “If you’re still going, I’m coming with you.”

  “Like hell you are. The last thing I need is another fight.”

  “You can’t go out alone with him there, Nat. It’s dangerous.”

  “I won’t be alone. Jess is coming with me.”

  “Because she was so great at helping you avoid his dickishness before.”

  “Don’t talk about Jess that way.”

  “Sorry.” He frowned. “But it doesn’t change things. I’m coming, whether you like it or not.”

  I groaned. God, he was persistent. And I could tell I wasn’t about to win this one. As distracted as he was by my still exposed breasts, Cal could be a stubborn ass when he wanted to be. And with the sun setting so fast outside my window, I had no time to waste in trying in to convince him.

  “Jesus. Fine.” I turned back to my closet and resumed digging. “Make sure you wear something decent, otherwise Furst will follow us all night.”

  “Yes, ma’am.” The way he said ma’am made my heart flutter. “Do you need to hire me a babysitter, too?”

  “Oh, fuck off.”

  He chuckled, and the dark, sweet sound did something to me deep inside. I squashed the feeling down, desperately trying to ignore it and focus on the search for Maneater as his footsteps padded out the door. They paused.

  “And Nat?” his voice called.

  “What?”

  Cal leaned in the room again, this time all traces of shame gone from his face. He was back to being Cal Gatlin, the asshole, though maybe not as bad of an asshole as I had taken him to be. His gaze slithered down my body one more time, this time slow and sensually. A shiver trembled through my spine.

  His gaze reached my eyes again, and there was that look in his face, the hungry one. Like he wanted to grab me, drag me to his bedroom by the hair, and just ravage me.

  His cocky smirk played across his face.

  “Thanks for the peep show.”

  I found Maneater at the back of the closet, wedged between a prom dress and a swimsuit.

  I pulled her out with a shit-eating grin. Oh, yes, Nate would really hate this, I decided, modeling her in front of my mirror. She was my one and only sexy dress—not because I objected to sexy dresses, but because she was perfect. No other dress could beat her.

  Maneater was a sinful red color with a plunging neckline and a slit that revealed a strip of leg up to the thigh. It stretched over my body perfectly, highlighting every little turn and curve in the most flattering way possible. Not anywhere near what somebody should wear to a Friday football game, which was even more perfect.

  Nate would know this was for him, and he’d know he’d never get to touch it again. I practiced a few hair flips and some hip swaying in the mirror.

  You go, Bitch Nat.

  I grabbed my purse when the rumble of Jess’s car roared up to the house, her headlights flooding my room through the window. Cal was leaning against the bannister of the stairs, waiting dutifully for me.

  I gaped at him.

  He cleaned up very, very nicely. A thin black t-shirt stretched tight over his muscles, and the leather jacket he had shrugged on gave him a badass look to match the motorcycle parked outside. His jeans were still dark and distressed, but at least they were clean. His perfectly messy dark hair was combed back from his face, giving me a full view of the dark five o’clock shadow and tattoos that licked his neck.

  He glanced up at me, and his lips parted.

  “Jesus, Sis,” he breathed, dragging out the word Jesus as long as it took his gaze to roll down my body.

  I smiled. I loved being a jaw-dropper. Especially if the jaw dropping belonged to Cal Gatlin.

  No. Stop thinking like that.

  “Hell, Sis,” he choked. “Why don’t you wear that around the house more often?”

  “It’s not for you,” I said, tilting my chin up. My heartbeat was fluttering like a hummingbird’s wing. It was true, it wasn’t for him. So why did I want it to be for him so badly?

  “Then….?” he asked, cocking an eyebrow.

  “It’s for… well, it’s for Nate.”

  His expression turned dark.

  “You’re not going back to him, are you?”

  “Fuck, no. I want him to stare at my ass and think about how he’ll never get to touch it.”

  He threw his head back and laughed.

  “I knew you weren’t as good as you pretended to be, Sis. Now I have to go. Gotta see that douche’s face.”

  I half expected him to throw his arm over my shoulders as we walked out, but chastised myself. I didn’t know what had gotten into me, but I couldn’t keep thinking of him like that. No matter how delicious he smelled. Or how strong his arms looked in that jacket. Or, God, how great his butt looked in those jeans.

  Jess met us outside with a raised eyebrow.

  “You two look awfully close,” she said, barely withholding judgment. “Are you riding in my car too?”

  “I’ve got a bike,” Cal said, shaking his head. I had seen the motorcycle before, a glossy black monster that Cal babied like his own infant.

  We waited for him to mount and get the engine going. The purr of the bike, plus the sight of Cal working so expertly with it, did things to me. He glanced up and smirked at my expression.

  “You want a ride too, Sis? Plenty of room for us to ge
t up close and personal.”

  I scoffed, but Jess laughed.

  “No, do it,” she said. “Jesus, can you imagine Nate’s face if he sees you riding up on that thing with your arms around Cal Gatlin?”

  That ended that argument.