Total pages in book: 188
Estimated words: 179812 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 899(@200wpm)___ 719(@250wpm)___ 599(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 179812 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 899(@200wpm)___ 719(@250wpm)___ 599(@300wpm)
How is it that my stepbrother is asking me to sleep with him so he can get over his ex-girlfriend?
Clenching my teeth, I hit a few buttons on my phone and give him a name. It’s petty but it gives me great satisfaction. Then, I hit reply.
Jupiter
Who is this?
His reply comes only a second later, as if he was eagerly waiting for mine.
My Toxic Stepbrother
The man of your dreams.
Jupiter
More like my nightmares.
My Toxic Stepbrother
So you do know who I am.
Jupiter
Yes, unfortunately I do know who you are.
You’re a criminal who breaks into people’s houses and apparently, steals their phone numbers.
My Toxic Stepbrother
Only ever your house, baby.
And I got your number from Callie.
My breaths hiccup as I stare at my screen. He went to Callie? She’s my best friend. She can’t know about this. She can never know I gave her older brother a lap dance and everything else that has happened over the last week. I mean, I’m already deceiving her so much. My fingers are flying on the screen before I know it.
Jupiter
What exactly did you say to Callie?
My Toxic Stepbrother
You never answered my question.
Jupiter
What question?
My Toxic Stepbrother
What are you wearing?
Jupiter
A babydoll mini-dress. Slutty red and made of lace, which means you can see everything. My whole body.
Oops. I better go this really cute guy just asked me for my phone number.
My Toxic Stepbrother
And here I thought it’s called a white blouse and a blue skirt.
Nice apron, by the way.
My head snaps up then and I look around. I’m at the coffee shop and what he just described is my uniform. I know I shouldn’t have been looking at my phone while working, but as soon as I saw whose text it was, I couldn’t resist. Thank God for slow lines and another barista who’s manning the register.
He’s not inside the coffee shop, but then my eyes skim over the street, visible through the glass front window, and I draw a breath when I find him. He’s right across from the shop, leaning against his truck, his arms folded across his massive chest and his ankles crossed.
Even though he’s got shades on and a ball cap, I know he’s staring at me. He probably has been staring at me all this time and I’ve been so lost in my thoughts and so busy texting with him that I never felt it. And when he realizes I’ve found him, I watch his lips quirk up in a small smirk as he pushes off from the truck and begins walking toward me.
I hate how handsome he looks right now. How the sun is shining down on him, making his bronzed skin sparkle. He has an off-white t-shirt on with a faded black logo, and more than clinging to his shoulders, it highlights the breadth of them, the width of his chest. His slim hips.
While every inch of him is noteworthy, my favorite part will always be his thighs, muscular and burly. Even if you didn’t know he was a superstar soccer player, you could still figure out he’s an athlete of some kind just from watching him walk your way. Just from watching those thighs flex and bulge under his washed-out jeans.
But the whole world does know. Or at least, the people he passes by on the street do, who do a double take when they realize their idol is among them. And the fact that he’s watching me while the world watches him makes my heart race. It makes me feel… special. He is making me feel special, and nothing could be further from the truth.
I watch him open the door to the shop and make a beeline for me. Which looks unusual because I’m not standing at the register. I’m off to the side by the coffee machines, and people stare at him as he comes to stand right across from me.
And before he can say anything, I blurt out in an urgent tone, “What did you say to Callie?”
Not that he gets the gravity of my question, because he takes his time with things. He takes off his glasses first before running his eyes all over me. He takes in my face that I know is flushed; my tied-up but perpetually messy hair; my mouth that’s parted because I can’t quite catch my breath. Before moving on to my uniform, the white blouse and the blue skirt with a frilly white apron.
On his way back up though, he pauses at one particular spot. The way he stares at it, with glittering eyes and a sharply clenched jaw, makes me think it’s his favorite. Or second favorite, after my belly button ring. The side of my neck where that vein is. My jugular that flutters like crazy when he’s close. That he’s going to sink his teeth into.
“Can you—” I stop when he snaps his eyes up.