Beast: An MMA Stepbrother Romance Page 4

  Mom smiles. “It’s alright, honey. The mosquitoes were coming out, so Larry and I decided to take the barbecue inside! You two are welcome to come down and join us, but I do have a feeling that we’re going to bed early tonight.”

  Mom looks at me conspiratorially as she backs out of the bedroom. I get up off the bed and close the door behind me. “Oh, God, ew, they’re going to fuck, aren’t they?”

  Caleb gives me a look. “Welcome to my world. Your mom’s been coming over for months, and every time it happens I basically have to leave the house. They’re fucking hot for each other.”

  “Caleb, don’t be gross!”

  “I’m just stating a fact. And trust me, they’re not quiet. They scream phrases.”

  “Maybe I should go to the bathroom before they get started, then.” I stick my head out the bedroom door, and I can hear them making out downstairs. “Never mind, they’ve already started.”

  I close the door, and realize that if Larry’s spending the night…that means Caleb is spending the night, too. He must have realized it at the exact same time, because he’s spread out all over my bed, and he’s starting to take off his shirt.

  “No. No way. You’re sleeping on the couch downstairs.”

  “Come on, Sis. There’s plenty of room for both of us here.” Caleb climbs into my blankets, and I throw them off him.

  “You. Downstairs. As soon as they leave.”

  Caleb makes exaggerated puppy dog eyes at me. “You’re seriously going to make me listen to our parents having sex? Seriously?”

  Personally, I’d rather put his arrogant ass on a cab back to Palo Alto, but since that’s not exactly feasible…he’s right. No one should have to hear that. Even if they are a total asshole. “Fine. You can sleep in a futon on the floor, but if you try anything, I’m going to throw you down the stairs.”

  Caleb kisses me on the forehead. “You’re the best stepsister ever.” I raise my eyebrows at him, but he doesn’t push it any further.

  I make Caleb face the wall while I get changed into my pajamas, despite his protestations that “it’s nothing he hasn’t seen before.” Meanwhile, he rolls out the futon, and I toss him a couple spare blankets and pillows from my bed. “I guess we’re going to bed early, too.”

  Caleb shrugs. “We were up late last night.”

  Thinking about that completely blows my mind. Yesterday, I thought I was never going to see the Beast again, and now, he’s sleeping on a futon in my bedroom. Granted, he’s apparently also an immature asshole named Caleb, but he’s still here.

  Caleb passes out before I can even click off the lamp. My eyes linger on his sleeping body, watching his huge torso heave with his breath, like it did when he was in the ring. For a couple seconds, I can almost smell the sweat of the arena again, and hear the roar of the crowd. A shiver runs up my spine, the feeling passes, and I turn out the lights.

  Chapter 5: Caleb

  Shit, what time is it? I push myself off the futon a little bit so I can see the time on Emma’s alarm clock. 2:45 AM. Weird. From the way I slept, I thought it was 7:30 or something. Before I hit the futon again, I look at Emma and laugh. She pulled her blanket off her body, and she’s spooning it in her sleep. I climb up to my feet so I can get a better look, and it’s basically the most adorable fucking thing I’ve ever seen. Her cute little arms and legs are hugging the blanket, and she’s holding it right up against her perfect tits. My cock starts to get hard as I think about how jealous I am of that blanket.

  God, I just want to slide right in there and let her hug me instead. I bet she wouldn’t even notice. She’d probably snuggle right up, push those amazing tits against my side, and put her head on my chest like it belonged there.

  This isn’t just any girl, though. It’s my new stepsister, and I promised her I wouldn’t try anything if she let me spend the night in her room. After I spent all that time making her squirm, I wouldn’t have blamed her if she kicked my ass down to the couch, but she didn’t.

  Now that I’m thinking about her, though, it’s going to be really fucking hard to get back to sleep. My cock is rock hard, and when I lie back down and close my eyes, all I can think about is how Emma felt last night, grinding up on me like she never wanted me to stop kissing her.

  Fuck this. I need to get some fresh air.

  As quietly as I can, I open the door and sneak downstairs. Thankfully, it sounds like my dad and Emma’s mom have had their fun and drifted off to sleep themselves. Trying not to wake anyone up, I twist the handle of the back door and sneak through it.

  I figure since I’m up, I might as well train. When you fight like I do, there are no days off. If I’m not in the best shape possible, I’m going to get taken down by someone who is. And in my fights, getting taken down could mean anything. The jagged, barely-healed cuts on my side from Chainsaw’s punch are a reminder of that.

  What the fuck was up with that, anyway? I’ve had girls standing ringside before trying to get me to look their way, but I’ve never actually looked, especially when I’m in Beast mode.

  I do a couple laps around Emma’s neighborhood as I try to make sense of it. How could I have been so reckless? If Chainsaw had hit me in the head instead of in the body, it could have really fucked me up.

  I need to make sure that nothing like that ever happens again. The next couple fights are probably the most important of my life. It took me a long time to get these California Kings guys to respect me. To stop thinking of me as a rich kid trying to be cool and to start taking me seriously. I knew beating Chainsaw was my best chance at that. The organizers love him because he draws blood, but he’s past his prime, so I knew he was going to drool at the chance to rip apart a young up-and-comer. I also knew that beating Chainsaw was going to get them to start talking about letting me into the championship tournament, and that if I hurt him bad enough, there’d be an empty slot that I’d be the heavy favorite for. It worked, but I almost did get ripped apart in the process thanks to Emma’s adorable fucking face.

  Now, after a year and a half of D-list fights in shitty secret venues, I’m finally landed closing in on a spot in the California Kings championship, a huge tournament with a cash payout big enough to get me out of my dad’s shadow forever.

  Emma’s adorable little sleeping face flashes through my mind again, and my breathing starts to get harder. Fuck, I need to calm down and think about something else. Something other than Emma and the tournament. Good fucking luck.

  As I run laps through Emma’s quiet little neighborhood, I keep passing this basketball court. Totally empty, with bleachers and everything. This time around, I decide I want to get on the court, so I hop the fence and walk out into the center of the blacktop.

  Being on the court calms me down a little. It’s my natural fucking habitat, after all. Right in the middle of everything. Surrounded by bleachers, an audience, whether they’re really there or not. The center of attention.

  I know just the way to get that image of Emma cuddling her blanket right the fuck out of my head. Shadowboxing. Replaying the fight with Chainsaw over in my head, only this time, I’m not going to get hit.

  I do a couple warm-up stretches as I pace around the blacktop. After a minute or two, I’m not even seeing it anymore. I’m seeing the octagon from last night, with Chainsaw talking shit on one side, and a crowd full of roaring, bloodthirsty degenerates cheering me on. I’ve gotten so good at this shit that I can jump into any fight I’ve ever had like it’s a fucking DVD and recreate everything, down to the exact detail.

  Emma’s even here, just like she was last night. Standing by the bleachers, giving me that same adorable “please notice me” look that almost got me a face full of chainsaw teeth last night. Even the memory of her is hard to look away from, but I have to do it. Otherwise, I’m never going to make it to the next level.

  Over the next hour, I go twelve rounds with Chainsaw’s ghost, practicing punches, kicks, blocks, dodges…everything I’ve got. At first, my game is a little off b
ecause I’m thinking about Emma. But then, the more I fight with her in my mind’s audience, the more I start to adapt. I start thinking about how hot she got from watching me fight, how bad she wanted me to win, and I start using that shit. I fight harder, react faster, and last longer without getting tired. Chainsaw’s ugly face sneers at me over and over, but I keep fighting, until my chest is heaving and every muscle of my body is screaming.

  The best part about shadowboxing is that you always win. You get accustomed to winning before you even set foot in the octagon.

  Back in Emma’s house, I turn on the kitchen sink and run some water over my face and neck. Fuck, that was a good workout. I should sleep in Emma’s room every night. My shirt is totally soaked through with sweat, so I peel it off and drop it on the kitchen floor, wetting my fingers and rubbing cold water down every exhausted muscle.

  A floorboard creaks behind me, and I hear a little gasp. When I turn around, Emma’s there, looking up at me like she just got her hand caught in the cookie jar. A heavy silence falls between us, and as little drops of water run down my body, I can see her eyes struggling not to follow them down into my shorts.

  I put my hands on the kitchen counter, leaning forward and thinking about how it felt to think about her while I was shadowboxing. I break the silence, my voice dead serious.

  “You can pretend like this doesn’t exist all you want, but I guarantee that by the end of this summer, I’m going to make you mine.”

  Emma stands there for a couple seconds, breathing hard in the doorway. Then, she just turns around and goes upstairs. I’m pretty sure I got my message across, because I can see her legs trembling as she heads down the hallway.

  She can’t say I didn’t warn her.

  Chapter 6: Emma

  Ever since Mom got engaged, she’s been telling me that Larry wanted a small, intimate wedding in a quiet, out of the way place. From the way she described it, I pictured it happening in some cute little church out in the middle of the woods…not on a beach in the Bahamas. If this is Larry’s idea of a small, intimate wedding, his idea of a big wedding must involve renting out the Grand Canyon.

  I’m really happy for Mom, but I have mixed feelings about this whole “impromptu Bahaman weekend” thing. I had to take all my plans for the entire weekend and cram them into next week to make room. You’d think a Caribbean mini-vacation would make my perfect summer even more perfect, but there’s one huge problem, and his name is Caleb Matthews.

  Since we’re here for our parents’ wedding, that makes us “the kids.” And that means we’ve been forced to spend the whole weekend together. We sat next to each other on the plane, our hotel rooms share a wall, and we have to sit together at the wedding. In the very front row, with some of the biggest names in Silicon Valley sitting behind us.

  Needless to say, it’s been an infuriating 24 hours.

  Caleb’s spent most of our time together trying to get me to go swimming with him. It’s a shame, because the ocean is so clear and beautiful out here that I’d love to swim in it…just not with Caleb. I know he’s just trying to get me into a bathing suit so he can see me mostly naked. In fact, I didn’t even bring a bathing suit, just so I would have an excuse to stay in my hotel room all weekend and finish my book.

  Naturally, Caleb planned for that. He brought a tiny little Made In China bikini that he’s been trying to get me to wear out with him. Luckily, once we landed and got set up, I’ve been able to avoid him, but it’s the afternoon of the wedding, which means the two of us are about to be spending a lot of time together.

  I step out into the hotel hallway, only to find Caleb waiting outside. It’s surreal seeing Caleb dressed in a way that doesn’t show off his tattooed fighter’s body. Naturally, he’s still huge, but his massive frame is wrapped up in an insanely expensive suit and his hair is actually combed. I’d never admit it to him, but he actually pulls off “handsome, civilized gentleman” really well. Shame about the whole personality thing.

  Caleb looks impressed by me, too. I didn’t think about what his reaction would be when he saw me wearing one of my nicest dresses with all this makeup on. I just wanted to look great for my mom’s wedding.

  “You look stunning.”

  I can’t help but blush. “Thanks.” It’s a step up from “totally fuckable,” at least.

  “It’s not too late to go put on the bikini I bought you underneath all that, you know.”

  …and now he’s back to normal. It was nice while it lasted, I guess.

  “Sorry, pervert, but it actually is too late for that. People have already started filing down to the beach, and if we wait too much longer, they’re going to start wondering where we are.”

  “Then let’s not keep them waiting.” Caleb offers his arm to me. I narrow my eyes at him and take it.

  ***

  It’s a long, long walk from the hotel to our seats. As we head across the beach, Caleb keeps running into people he knows from work, stopping to talk to them while keeping a death grip on my arm. I’m pretty sure in his real line of business, they call this an armlock. As Caleb gets in conversation after conversation with his father’s friends, I’m shocked at how respected he seems to be. Has he ever worn a short-sleeved shirt around any of these people? Has he ever let the professional act slip and acted like the over-the-top macho douchebag he really is? Am I the only one who can see his actual personality?

  It feels like I’m the only one on this beach who doesn’t know everyone else. They’re all talking about industry stuff with Caleb while I have to stand there, smiling and nodding. Most people we pass correctly assume I’m Larry’s new stepdaughter, but one especially famous CEO asks us how long we’ve been dating.

  Naturally, Caleb doesn’t bother to correct him. He just smiles and leaves that to me.

  Finally, right when I seriously think I’m about to scream, we make it to our seats. Naturally, we’re right up front, in the perfect position for everyone to stare at us. I’m worried that if I try to engage Caleb, he’s going to say or do something inappropriate, and the people behind us are going to notice, so instead, I stare blankly past the altar and watch the Caribbean waves roll in.

  “Jesus, sis, you’re so tense.”

  Uh oh. Am I coming off as tense? I was trying to come off as calm.

  “Relax. Enjoy your mom’s wedding. I’m not going to do anything weird in front of all these people, I swear.”

  In my rational mind, I know that most of the crowd probably isn’t paying attention to us, but it’s hard not to want to keep the conversation down to a minimum.

  “Well, it’d probably be easier to relax if I thought we had the same definition of weird.”

  Caleb laughs. “Why, do you think this is weird?”

  I let out a little yelp and my body freezes puts his hands on my bare shoulders.

  “Because it’s not. It’s just me being a good stepbrother and helping you relax before the wedding starts.”

  Caleb starts to massage my shoulders and neck. At first, I’m super tense, but the more I think about it, the more I realize that anything I could do to get Caleb’s hands off me would only make everything worse. So instead, I drop my shoulders, lean back in my seat and let him massage me.

  “See? Doesn’t this feel better?”

  I can’t lie, it does feel really good. Caleb’s thick, strong fingers squeeze all the tension right out of me like a sponge. Then, after going up and down my neck a few times, he takes his hands off me and puts them back in his lap.

  “See? Not weird at all.”

  Over on the other side of the crowd, the orchestra starts warming up. I look behind me and see Larry standing behind the crowd, getting ready to walk up the aisle. It’s a huge relief: once the wedding starts, I don’t have to worry about engaging Caleb.

  “By the way, there’s going to be a party tonight in my room. You coming?”

  “With who? Your friends from work?”

  “Nah, a couple guys from my gym.”

&n
bsp; “Other fighters?”

  Caleb puts a finger to his lips. “Shhh. Our little secret, remember? But yeah. Them, plus a couple of people I found on the beach. Plus you.”

  Great. A party in the room right next to mine. “We’ll see. I have a lot of work to do.”

  Caleb scoffs. “Come on, it’ll be fun. The legal drinking age is 18 here, so you can’t hide behind the goody-two-shoes act.”

  “I’m not hiding behind anything. I’m just not sure if I’ll be able to make it.”

  “Oh, you’ll be able to make it. I’ll bring the party to your room if I have to.”

  I glare at Caleb. “Are you seriously going to force me to be in your presence from now on?”

  “I’m pretty sure our parents are the ones forcing us to be together. I’m just trying to get you to loosen up and have some fun with me.”

  “You can say that all you want, but we both know that all you really want to do is…” Before I can finish that sentence, I realize where I am and clamp my mouth shut.

  Caleb’s lips grow into a calm smirk. “All I really want to do is what? What were you going to say?”

  I’m about to just straight up give Caleb the silent treatment. The people in the row behind us are too caught up in a heated conversation about deep-sea diving to pay close attention to us, but we still can’t be talking about this here. “Nothing. Nevermind.”

  “You’re not getting off that easy, sis. What do I really want to do?”

  I curl my toes and open my mouth, spending every ounce of energy I have trying not to make a scene at my Mom’s wedding. Thankfully, just in the nick of time, the orchestra starts to play and the wedding begins.

  Luckily, Caleb has the manners not to talk during a wedding. As soon as Larry starts walking up the aisle, he shuts right up. Finally, I can watch the wedding in peace.

  It’s a beautiful wedding. Mom looks amazing in her wedding dress, but she also looks super nervous. I can’t say I blame her: weddings are nerve-wracking enough without half of Silicon Valley in attendance. I wonder if she’s thinking of Dad. Caleb’s definitely thinking of his mom. I can hear it in his breathing, and when I look over at him, his eyes dart down to the sand and then back up to the altar.