Bliss: A Step Brother Romance Page 4

  He leaned against the kitchen doorframe and looked down at me. He wasn’t looking down on me, but merely his standing position left him no choice but to bend his neck as he had his eyes trained on me. It was intimidating, but in a different way than I was used to.

  I met his eyes again; mistake number three. The knot in my stomach was back. I forced myself to stand up, cleared my voice and said:

  “OK, I’m fine. I’m sorry for that, I know it was just a little scratch but I don't like blood.” As I spoke I was looking anywhere but at him.

  “I know. Hemophobia. There’s no blood anymore so you’ll be fine.”

  “Yeah.”

  “Provided that you’ll come to me to change the bandages.”

  My head snapped up in surprised and I looked into his eyes puzzled.

  “What? Why?”

  “I don’t think it’s a pleasant feeling. So we avoid it by having me do the patching. This way, you don't have to look at the blood again. It’s in everyone’s best interest,” he said, pointing to my mum. “Deal?”

  “I don’t know how you shut her up, but you need to teach me that someday.”

  “I’ll take that as a yes. Come on, dinner is getting cold.”

  He grabbed my wrist. I flinched instinctively; whenever Alex grabbed my wrist like that, it was never good.

  “Sorry, you scared me,” I said. He raised his eyebrows.

  “I didn’t mean to…”

  “Who said dinner is getting cold? Eaten, maybe, but nothing will be left to get cold. This thing is delicious!” George finally said, after swallowing a big bite of his food. “You’re a good cook, Eva.”

  “And clumsy. But, thanks. I am glad you like it.”

  A sudden feeling of happiness washed over me as I laid my eyes on the kitchen table. Small, round and rugged, it was now prettily arranged with fine china and wine glasses. Mum and George were sitting next to each other, devouring my humble pasta.

  It made me smile. It felt like home.

  DAVID

  The sunlight insisted on stabbing my eyelids, in its perpetual routine of starting up the human mind for a new day. I moaned, as if to beg for another five minutes, but it was futile. You do not negotiate with a natural force.

  I finally caved in and turned on my back. A good stretch and rolling out of bed immediately always did the trick of waking me up.

  I was unpleasantly reminded that the beds in this house were just a bit too short for my full height, but I ignored the fact that my feet were dangling in the air; the stretch felt too good. My muscles quivered in the process and I could see how the sleep fog was pulling back into the recesses of my mind.

  I raised my head to check the wall clock; almost eight in the morning.

  “Oh, great,” I thought, noticing the bulge in my pants. Taking care of morning wood was as good of a thing to start my day as any. I couldn’t just parade it in front of my father and his new girlfriend.

  A hot and cold shower did the trick, besides waking me up in the most brutal way imagined by man. After drying my skin, I flexed my injured arm a couple of times, pleased to see it was recovering nicely since I had gotten rid of the cast.

  I smiled, content with the way things had concluded for my little patient, despite my shortcomings. The boy had been permanently placed with a nice foster family and his pig of a father had been sent to jail. “Excellent,” I couldn't help but say out loud. Then I remembered that my room was next to Eva’s and the walls were very thin. I didn’t want to wake her up so I left in search for the rest of our party.

  Our parent’s bedroom door was open, but they were nowhere to be found. “Early birds,” I thought, going into the kitchen.

  I rummaged through the cupboards for some coffee and found the sort that Eva’s Mum had brought. I pursed my lips, wondering why would anyone pack their own coffee for just one weekend trip.

  Soon, the answer was revealed to me. It first started with the amazing smell that made my mouth water. I couldn’t pour myself a cup fast enough.

  The first sip was cathartic. I suspected I actually moaned from the pleasure.

  It must’ve been the third sip when I finally opened my eyes and saw the handwritten note on the kitchen counter. I recognized my father’s writing and smiled. “Em has already got to him,” I thought, chuckling at the picture of him actually writing something down for someone else to read. That sounded like a good influence to me.

  “We’re in town. If you need us to buy something, call. We’ll be back by noon.”

  I thought for a second, but couldn’t find anything I was missing. Yet. There was something I didn’t seem able to remember.

  Maybe some laps of the small lake in front of the cabin would help. Swimming always helped me think; a few minutes to myself, working out both the body and the mind turned out to be all I needed.

  I wasn’t in the water for more than five minutes when it occurred to me that we didn’t have enough gauze here. I needed some supplies to tend to Eva’s injury.

  Suddenly worried that I might be too late, I hurried back into the cabin. In the kitchen, aside from the lingering arabic aroma that compelled me to pour myself another cup of coffee, there was no trace of my phone.

  “I must’ve left it in my room,” I thought and started up the wooden stairs.

  Indeed, the phone was on my nightstand. I reached for it and unlocked the screen, when I thought I heard Eva talk. The time was 8:36, still a bit early for her to be up, according to her mum.

  She said something again; maybe she was talking on the phone.

  I walked to her door and knocked gently. Why not be polite and offer her some coffee, since she was awake?

  There was no answer. I knocked again, louder. This time, I heard some shuffling and Eva mumbling, but no one came to the door. I frowned, starting to think that something wasn’t right.

  “Eva?” I called for her. Still no answer, so I pushed the door open.

  I stopped in my tracks, feeling the blood dividing in two teams; one rushed to my face and lit my cheeks on fire with embarrassment, and the other went straight to my cock.

  Eva was still asleep, by all means. Half naked, wearing only underpants and a loose white t-shirt, she was splayed over the sheets with her legs spread wide. The first thing I saw was the clear outline of her pussy through her baby pink panties.

  “They’re tiny,” I couldn’t help but think, then gave myself a mental slap on the face for thinking it.

  I swallowed hard and turned to leave. Somehow, I doubted that a cold shower would do for this boner.

  She moaned something and I hurried out the door afraid she saw me, but realized she was talking in her sleep. I paused and listened, despite the feeling that I was violating her privacy.

  “I’m sorry,” I made out of her mumble. “Please, don’t.”

  If I had any hope to hear something juicy a minute ago, all traces of that were now gone. She sounded like she didn’t enjoy what she was dreaming about. And then, she whimpered, like a scared animal.

  Without giving it much thought, I slammed the door with a loud noise, in a clumsy attempt to wake her up. She jumped straight to a sitting position. I needed to interrupt that dream of hers, for some reason. I didn’t like how she seemed to feel in it.

  Her wide eyes were trained on mine; I needed to swallow hard again. In the split second before realizing I needed to hide my boner, I lost all sense of decency and just took in that picture of her.

  First, her eyes were wet and scared, making me want to take her into my arms and promise her everything will be alright; then, her lips, plumped up from sleeping, were parted in surprise, the urge to kiss them right then and there hard to fight off.

  She finally realized her legs were completely naked and pulled the t-shirt over her knees. I took a deep breath and stepped backwards.

  “I’m sorry,” I mumbled awkwardly, before leaving her room. She didn't reply; she must’ve been petrified.

  I slammed the bathroom door b
ehind me and leaned over the sink. I was still holding the stupid cup of coffee. I dropped it into the sink and grabbed the marble edges tightly for support.

  “Come on,” I encouraged my body to stop behaving like a Neanderthal. “Come on!”

  I tried picturing the worst things I could possibly imagine, but her naked thighs kept popping up in my mind. Then, her lips, which were doing things I wasn’t even sure Eva could do in reality; and then, there was her pussy, the memory of which had been permanently branded into my mind.

  ”For fuck’s sake, you fucking idiot!” I cursed myself. “What the Hell is wrong with you?”

  As I scolded myself some more, the hard on began to fade away. My horniness was replaced with anger, then with gratitude. I couldn’t imagine masturbating to the image of my step sister, no matter how hot I apparently found her.

  The prospect of doing it tore me between feeling like bashing my head against the bathroom mirror for thinking it or giving into its forbidden pleasure.

  “What she doesn’t know, doesn’t hurt her,” a stray thought sprang into my mind. I pushed it aside, choosing to nip any weird feelings in the bud. The recipe for a disastrous family getaway was right there, within my reach. I refused to get sucked into it.

  ***

  I tried to shake the awkwardness and act like nothing happened. It had been just an embarrassing incident, after all.

  I couldn’t help roaming aimlessly through the kitchen cabinets, trying to look busy.

  “Hey,” she said, out of nowhere.

  “Wow, you’re quiet. Like a cat.”

  She smiled, looking down coyly. “Just like you yesterday.”

  “True.”

  I was avoiding to look directly at her and I had the feeling she was doing the same thing. I stole a glance and caught the sunlight dancing in her dark hair, red sparkles projected like an aura around her head. I swallowed hard and looked away a split second too late. She had caught me staring at her, like a creep.

  I cleared my voice, to dispel the awkward silence. I was desperate to say something, but nothing made sense in my head. It was like my mind had stopped working right.

  “Coffee?” I finally asked.

  “Sure.”

  I grabbed the pot and tipped it over her cup, but nothing came out.

  “Oh, sorry, no coffee left.”

  How can you not notice the pot was empty? Especially since it was made of clear glass.

  “I should apologize for my stupidity,” I thought, but instead I just stood there, holding the empty pot pathetically. It was like, suddenly, normal things like breathing or moving my arms were complicated processes that required great focus.

  “I’ll make some,” she said and took the pot.

  “No, allow me.”

  She stepped back, wide eyed. I was freaking her out. “Good job, moron.”

  “Sorry?”

  “Did I say that out loud?”

  She giggled and nodded.

  “Jesus, I am a moron,” I admitted, smiling. Some of the ice had been broken. “Can I take a look at your hand? I need to change the bandages.”

  As the coffee machine did its thing, I grabbed the first aid kit and sat next to Eva. Her hand was soft; I couldn’t help but think she must’ve smelled amazing.

  The creepiness of the thought made me frown instinctively.

  “What is it? Is there something wrong with the cut?”

  “No, no. I… no, everything is fine. I’m just going to change the gauze and you’ll be fine.”

  I didn’t dare to look at her as I half expected her to be smirking at my clumsiness.

  Once the procedure done, I poured us both coffee and spiked mine with scotch. Anything to take the edge off whatever was happening inside my head.

  “How’s your forearm?” she asked. At first, I didn’t understand what she meant.

  “Oh, the broken bone. It’s fine. Healed. Just need some exercise. Recovery.” Why couldn’t I string a properly flowing sentence?

  She nodded. I could see she was trying to fight the awkward silence just like me. Maybe I should put some more effort into it.

  “Look, I’m sorry for earlier. I… You were talking in your sleep, but I didn’t know. I mean, I thought you were awake or something.”

  “And you thought that the best course of action was to barge into my room?”

  “I knocked!” I defended myself. She was trying hard not to laugh. It didn't work for long. Despite her best efforts, she couldn’t delay the inevitable.

  Her sparkling laughter broke whatever was left of the initial ice and infected me with a smile.

  “I’m sorry. That was a dumb thing to do.”

  “It’s alright. I will assume you meant well.”

  I knew she meant it as a joke, but her words reminded me of her mumblings. Who was she apologizing in the sleep?

  “Are you in the habit of eating breakfast?” she asked, interrupting my thinking.

  “Yes, most of the time.”

  “How do you feel about scrambled eggs?”

  “I can make scrambled eggs.”

  “No, I meant… I was going to make them.”

  “Allow me.”

  And she did. I left her sitting on the tall kitchen chair and went straight to the fridge. After scrutinizing its scarce contents, I decided on a simple breakfast of eggs and bacon. Then some chive caught my eye. Perfect!

  I chopped, stirred, beat, fended for myself against hot grease droplets, then she giggled again. I lost coordination over most of my body.

  “He cooks, he’s handsome, he’s a doctor, aaaand he loves kids! Please put your hands together for our next ‘Bachelorette’ contestant, David Morris.”

  “Shut up!”

  “Ain’t nothing wrong with a bit of praise.”

  “You’re not so bad yourself.”

  She smiled bitterly. “I am not making a difference in anyone’s life. Unlike you, saving that kid.”

  I frowned, my telltale sign something was wrong. If only she knew.

  “What is it?”

  “Nothing. What do you mean?”

  “You did a little frown. I’m beginning to think it’s some sort of a tale.”

  “Perceptive.”

  “Come on, spill it.”

  I looked straight into her eyes. She looked amused, but not mocking. She tilted her head to one side and smiled invitingly. God, she was so pretty!

  “What am I thinking?” I scolded myself.

  “You don’t have to tell me anything. I just thought something was upsetting you.”

  I felt guilty for disappointing her. But how could I tell her about how cruel I really was? She would hate me.

  “It’s nothing, really.”

  “I think it’s something. Judging by the way you’re acting, it has to be something. Or you’re just a really weird person.”

  I took a deep breath, turned to the stove so I didn’t have to face her and started talking.

  “I didn’t save anyone. I just reported the abuse.”

  It was hard to say it out loud. But I felt compelled to offer her the truth; I didn’t understand why, but it felt right, despite being strangely difficult.

  “That’s more than many other abused kids get. You saved that boy.”

  She was saying exactly what she was supposed to say. She was talking the same way everyone talked. Before they knew the whole story.

  My heart was racing as I pushed myself to tell her everything.

  “I loved that kid. There was never any conclusive sign of abuse until I found those bruises. When the Child Services came to take him, he cried. He… he wanted to stay with me.”

  I paused, letting her understand the whole picture, with its unbelievable cruelty.

  “I refused to become his foster parent. They asked, but I declined.” I didn’t know why but I needed to say it as I felt it. Harsh, and unfair.

  “It was the right decision.”

  My eyebrows shot up by and I almost dropped the woo
den spatula from the shock of her words.

  “What?”

  “I said it was the right thing to do. You’re not prepared to be a parent. You can’t be, your schedule must be crazy. I know mine is, and I am not a resident doctor. Besides, he is an abused child. He is better off with someone experienced in that sort of thing. You did your job.”