Stepbrother Billionaire(4)
Author: Colleen Masters

Emerson steps up beside me as both of our gazes fall on the couch. We steal simultaneous glances at each other, then quickly look away. My cheeks flame red as I try and dislodge the sexy image playing out in my mind’s eye: Emerson laying me out across that sofa, ripping my clothes off, and having his way with me as the smooth velvet upholstery caresses my bare skin.

He, on the other hand, is probably preoccupied with counting down the minutes before this little joke is over.

“See? This is why I never come to parties,” I murmur, crossing my arms tightly across my chest.

“Really? I thought it was ‘cause no one ever asked you to,” he says wryly, taking a seat on the fainting sofa and stretching out his long, toned body. Tormenting me, is more like it.

“I would have expected you to have better plans, at least,” I reply. “We need to start coordinating with each other so this doesn’t happen.”

“What, this?” he asks, gesturing around at the closet as our seven minutes unfold.

“Not this specifically,” I say, rolling my eyes, “I just mean we should avoid seeing each other any more than we absolutely have to. Especially now that you and your mother…” I trail off, shaking my head.

“Since we what?” Emerson snaps, suddenly on the defensive, “Invaded your precious ivory tower?”

I bite my lip, intimidated by his heated tone. My dad and Deborah have recently decided to move in together. Or rather, they’ve decided that Deborah and Emerson are going to move in with us. They’re going to rent out their apartment on the other side of town and shack up in our place for the time being. One big, utterly strange, less-than-happy family. As if crushing on Emerson wasn’t weird enough for me, now the object of my unfortunate desire is going to be sleeping under the same roof, as well. College really can’t start soon enough for me.

“You have to admit, it’s kind of strange,” I murmur, averting my eyes. “Dad and Deborah’s whole thing, I mean. They’ve known each other for, what, two months? And they’re already moving in together?”

“My mom’s a crazy, impulsive bitch,” Emerson shrugs, “And your dad seems like someone who does whatever the fuck he wants without thinking about the consequences. What about this is surprising to you?”

“Good point,” I laugh hollowly, daring to sit on the very edge of the couch beside him. The mere proximity of his body to mine has my stomach twisting in anxious knots. Has it been seven minutes yet or what?

“Well,” Emerson sighs, swinging his legs around so that he’s sitting beside me. “Are we gonna get it on now or what?”

“Ugh,” I groan, giving him a shove, “Stop it, would you? Why do you get so much pleasure out of making me miserable?”

“I don’t,” he replies, “It’s just so goddamn easy that I can’t help myself. How the hell did you get to be such a little prude?”

“Who says I’m a prude?” I shoot back, “You don’t know anything about my life.”

“I know that I’ve never seen you even talk to a guy,” Emerson shoots back.

“What’re you, keeping track of my lovers or something?” I reply. “Get a life, Sawyer.”

Of course, I don’t mind at all that Emerson’s taking notice of my love life, paltry though it may be. As insane as it is, I can’t help but hope that there’s some chance he could come to feel the same way about me as I do him. Call me a dreamer, I guess. A dirty dreamer.

“What are brothers for?” Emerson grins, slipping an arm around my waist.

My head sets to spinning as the nearness of him entrances me. I look up at his gorgeous, sculpted face, mere inches away from my own. I’ve never been this close to him before. I memorize the contours of his perfect features—his high cheekbones, his aquiline nose, the scruff along his razor sharp jaw, and of course those dark blue eyes. From this close, I can see that there are specks of gold gleaming in his irises, and a dash of freckles across the bridge of his nose. At last, my eyes land firmly on his full, firm lips, half curled into a devilish grin.

His arm is still circled around my tiny waist. Am I imagining things, or is his grip growing the slightest bit tighter? A silence blooms over us, heavy and thick. My eyes flick back up to his. A cast of seriousness has come over his gaze. To my amazement, I watch as his face moves closer to mine, by barely a millimeter—

“Five minutes!” I hear Courtney call from outside the door.

“Shit,” I mutter, tearing my eyes away from his perfect face. My whole body is on fire with scattered anticipation. For a second there, I actually thought he was going to kiss me. Talk about wishful thinking. “So. How are we going to please the horny masses?” I ask, nodding toward the door.

“I have an idea,” Emerson says, his grin returning at full force. “You’re going to give me your panties.”

My jaw falls open as I whip around to face him. “Excuse me?” I splutter.

“You heard me. Hand them over,” Emerson says, punching me lightly on the arm. “I can hold them up as proof that we did the deed, and everyone will know that you’re not a frigid, virginal weirdo.”

“That is so messed up,” I say, jumping to my feet. I’m just going to leave the whole “frigid virgin” thing alone for now, I decide. No use opening that can of worms. “Let those assholes think what they want. I’ll never have to see any of them again in a few months.”

“Come on, Sis. Do it for me, then,” Emerson says, standing to meet me. He catches my arm, giving me a soft tug toward him. “Don’t you want to help me protect my reputation?”

“Not really,” I reply, as he closes the space between us. I wonder if he can see my heart pounding through my black sweater, see my knees trembling beneath my tartan miniskirt?

“What if I ask you nicely?” he returns, his voice softer, huskier than I’ve ever heard it. He runs his hands down my arms, not an inch of air between our bodies. That seriousness has hardened his features once again…or is he just fucking with me?

“Are you really capable of that? Asking nicely?” I try to joke, but my own voice seems to have dropped a lusty octave. My breath catches in my throat as his hands land firmly on my slender hips.

“Give me your panties,” he growls, his fingers tightening ever-so-slightly, “Please.”

I stare up at him in amazement. He’s totally serious. If I had any sense at all, I’d step away, laugh off his request, and wait for the next five minutes to tick by. But my sense has been fully eclipsed by my want to please him in any way that I can. Maybe he’s joking after all, but I’m not going to let this moment slip away between my fingers. I have to show Emerson Sawyer what I’m made of. It’s now or never.