I groan at his words and give him a clipped nod. When he takes control of my body like this, I can’t think straight. I forget all reasoning and lose sense of reality. We may as well be the two characters on the wall.
“You want me to fuck you even though you hate me.” His whispered words seem to tingle through my every nerve ending. “Don’t you?”
“I don’t hate you.”
He tugs at my nipple again. “Well, I hate you enough for the both of us.”
“You’re so full of shit.”
I cry out when he shoves me against the wall, his body pressing against me so I feel the very stone-like impression of his massive cock. His grip on my nipple relaxes, and he lazily rolls it between his thumb and finger, driving me insane with need.
“Canyon,” I beg. “Please.”
“What do you want, Wonderland?”
“I don’t fucking know. I just…”
His other hand snakes down to palm my dick over my jeans. A moan tumbles out of me. Hot lips find the side of my neck, sending currents of fiery desire straight to my balls.
“I want it too,” Canyon admits. “Fuck, how I do.”
We’re breathing heavily and writhing against one another when I hear Carrie’s voice as she comes up the stairs.
“Pizza rolls are ready!”
Canyon jerks back, stumbling away a few steps. I pull myself from the wall and keep my back to the door so his sister doesn’t see my raging erection.
“Coming,” I rasp out. “Just admiring this, uh, art.”
“Ew. Not you too,” she grumbles from the doorway. “I’ll be in my room. Canny, I left some pizza rolls downstairs for you.”
“Thanks,” Canyon grunts out.
As soon as she walks off, I swivel around to face Canyon. His blue eyes are electric with feral want burning in them. I lick my lips, enjoying when his gaze falls to my mouth. We stare at each other for a long beat before I let out a rush of air and start for the door. I’m passing by him when his hand seizes my bicep. I twist my head up to look at him. With our faces inches apart, I can almost imagine his lips on mine, probing and curious and hungry. He leans forward, his nose brushing against mine, causing my eyes to flutter closed. The warmth of his breath this close is exhilarating. I part my lips, eager for his mouth on mine.
“Better leave, Wonderland, or…” His thumb drags along my bottom lip. I pop my eyes open to meet his intense, penetrating stare.
“Or what?”
“There is no or. Just leave.”
“Okay,” I croak out, unmoving. “In a second.”
We remain like living, breathing statues, fixated on each other for an indeterminable amount of time.
Far longer than a second.
Maybe minutes or hours.
“Walk away,” Canyon murmurs, breaking the silence with his gravelly words. “Walk away before I don’t let you.”
Captive to the villainous boy with a nerdy secret love for cartoons?
It takes everything in my power to pull away from his magnetic presence—every single drop of my willpower. This mind-altering addiction that is Canyon Voss has the power to completely obliterate me.
“Later, Voss.”
“That’s a promise.”
The chill that shivers down my spine is invigorating and wakes parts of me I didn’t know existed.
It’s not until I escape his delicious scent and fiery proximity that I finally breathe in a calming breath. This guy—my soon-to-be stepbrother—is changing my world. I’m still undecided whether I hate it or not.
Brother Lover: On your birthday. Two weeks. Be ready.
I yawn, staring down at my phone, wondering what in the hell that even means.
Me: Should I be scared?
He doesn’t respond, which annoys me. It’s late, and I should go to bed, but my mind is still on Canyon. It was difficult to focus on my lesson with Carrie when my blood was still burning hot for her brother. By the time I made it home, though, I’d cooled, and reality crept back into my mind.
I can’t do this with Canyon.
Whatever this is.
It feels good when it’s just the two of us, locked away by ourselves. He’s not a twat like usual, and our chemistry is undeniable. If it were anyone else, I’d pursue the hell out of him and try to make something happen between us.
He’s going to be my stepbrother.
Dad would kill me.
I can almost see the disgusted look on Dad’s face. One mixed with hurt and betrayal. He took me in when I needed a family, and letting his fiancé’s son fuck me would basically be shitting on everything he’s done for me.
He might kick me out.
Worse, never speak to me again.
Bile churns in my gut. The wind picks up outside, making the house creak, and with it, my anxiety spikes as I hear every little sound.
Was that a squeak?
I strain my ears, listening for evidence.
Another groaning cracking sound.
Another squeak? That was definitely a squeak.
Mice.
Fucknofucknofucknofuckno!
My heart rate picks up, the beats erratic and wild inside my chest. The thrumming makes it hard to hear the other sounds. Panic rises up inside me. They’re in my room, and I can’t hear them. What if they climb up on my bed? Crawl all over me while I sleep?
Fucknofucknofucknofuckno!
A full-bodied shiver trembles through me. I tuck the blankets around my body, leaving no room for mice to crawl inside with me. Once I’m buried beneath the blanket, I try not to hyperventilate in the small, airless space. My skin crawls, and I twitch as I think maybe the mice are trying to get under the blanket with me.
A whimper escapes me.
Don’t, Alis. Don’t do this.
In the past, when my panic attacks would consume me, Dad would remind me what my therapist taught me. He’d sit with me and distract me until the moment passed.
Dad. I need Dad. Dad!
Tears prickle at my eyes as I gulp in the hot air beneath the blanket. I try to cry out for him, but nothing comes out. All I have is my phone, trapped in my death grip. With shaky hands, I swipe it open. I find myself on Instagram and on Canyon’s page before I realize what I’m doing.
Thud.
Seeing his bright, mischievous cobalt eyes has me calming considerably. I swallow down the stomach acid making its way up my throat and start scrolling through his pictures. There’s a lot of him with Naomi. A few of them kissing, but most of them are possessive ones where he has her tucked under his arm.
What would it feel like to be that person?
Would he tuck me against him when the panic attacks threatened to eat me alive with imaginary mice from my past? Would he rest his head on my chin and whisper that everything is going to be okay?
He’s your enemy, dumbass.
In his room, when he was touching me, we felt far from enemies.
We felt like lovers.
On a whim, I reach out to him on Instagram messages.
Me: What’s happening in two weeks besides my birthday?
It shows he’s seen the message right away, and then he’s typing.
Canyon: Me, kicking your ass at the 100-meter?
Me: Well, you just hinted, so…
Canyon: You okay?
My heart stutters at his question. I’m able to imagine his arms around me and his expensive cologne invading my senses.