He Protected Me Like a Brother, Wanted Me Like a Man

"Aaaagh…" Was that a woman's voice? I paused, my hand frozen on the doorknob. I was standing outside my boyfriend's door with his birthday gift when I heard a woman moaning his name. "Jordan…" My smile disappeared. I stood there, staring at the door. The little gift bag in my hand suddenly felt like dead weight. I told myself I was hearing things. Maybe it was the TV. Maybe he was watching something. But then I heard it again, clearer this time. Her voice. Breathless. Needy. "Oh god… yes, Jordan… just like that…" My stomach dropped. The butterflies I had felt just moments ago turned into something cold and heavy. I had traveled across the country for this. Ten hours of flights, layovers, subways, and buses. I had told myself it would be worth it to see the look on his face when he opened the door. I had imagined him pulling me into his arms, laughing in surprise, telling me I was crazy for coming all this way. Instead, I was standing in the hallway of his building, listening to him f**k someone else. The bed creaked. The headboard knocked against the wall. I could hear the rhythm of it, the wet slap of skin, the low groan that I knew belonged to him. I had heard that groan before, in the dark, when he whispered my name. Now it was for someone else. My hand flew to my mouth. I pressed hard, trying to keep the sound in. My eyes burned. My chest felt like it was caving in. All those phone calls. All those late-night texts where he told me he missed me, that he wished I was there, that he could not wait to see me again. Every single one of them was a lie. The rage came next. Hot and fast, burning through the shock. I did not think. I just moved. My fist slammed against the door so hard the wood rattled. "Jordan! Open this door right now! Jordan!" The sounds stopped. Silence. Then footsteps. The door swung open, and there he was. Shirtless. Hair a mess. His chest was slick with sweat, and there were marks on his neck. Dark red and purple. Someone had been kissing him, biting him, claiming him. His eyes went wide. "Sophie?" I could not breathe. "What do you think I am doing? Who is in there? Have you been lying to me this whole time?" I tried to push past him, but he grabbed my arm. His fingers dug in hard. "Just relax, would you?" He dragged his other hand through his messy hair, his jaw tight. "Look… Sophie, I did not want you to find out like this. But think about it. We have spent maybe a handful of days together this past year. You never come to see me. What was I supposed to do?" I stared at him. The man I had loved. The man I had trusted. And he was standing there, half-naked, with another woman's marks on his skin, trying to make this my fault. "What were you supposed to do?" My voice cracked, but I did not care. "You were supposed to keep your d**k in your pants. Is that really so complicated?" His face tightened. "Come on, Sophie," he said, his voice dropping. "Do not be childish about this." Childish. He called me childish. After everything. After I had flown across the country to surprise him. After I had spent months convincing myself that the distance did not matter, that we were strong enough to make it work. And he was standing there, looking at me like I was the one being unreasonable. My heart was pounding so hard it hurt. My hand moved before I could stop it. My palm cracked against his cheek, hard enough to snap his head to the side. He stumbled back, shock flashing across his face. I did not wait to see his reaction. I turned and walked away. I walked down the hallway, down the stairs, and out into the street. The rain hit me immediately, cold and relentless. The door of the building locked behind me with a click. I was trapped outside. Soaked. Alone. "f**k," I muttered, wiping water from my eyes. I pulled out my phone. The screen was already spotted with raindrops. My thumb hovered over Maya's name. Then my dad's. Both of them had told me not to come. Both of them had warned me that Jordan was not worth it. The last thing I wanted to hear right now was "I told you so." I scrolled further. My finger stopped on a name I had not called in years. Mom. I stared at it. I had not planned to see her. I had not even told her I was coming to the city. But I was tired. I was wet. I had nowhere else to go. What other choice did I have? I pressed the call button. She answered on the second ring. "Sophie? Is that you?" "Mom," I said, my voice breaking. "Can I come over?" An hour later, a taxi pulled up in front of a tall townhouse in the richest part of the city. I had been here once before, years ago, when my mother first married Alexander Thorne. I remembered feeling out of place then. I felt even more out of place now, dripping rainwater all over the pristine sidewalk. Before I could even open the car door, someone came running out with an umbrella. My mother. Her heels clicked against the wet pavement as she rushed toward me. "My god, what happened? You are soaked! Why did you not call me? I would have picked you up from the airport!" She pulled me toward the house, her arm wrapped tightly around my shoulders. I let her guide me inside. The warmth of the foyer hit me immediately, but I could not stop shivering. "I am fine, Mom. I will probably just stay one night." "What do you mean?" Her voice went higher. "Aren't you here to…" "I am not here to see you, Mom," I said. Plain and simple. Her smile faltered. She pushed a piece of hair behind her ear, suddenly looking uncomfortable. She was beautiful, my mother. Big blue eyes, thick brown hair that fell over her shoulders. She knew exactly how good she looked. It was probably why she had left my father for a billionaire. "Is… Mr. Thorne home? Or Liam? If it is a bad time, I can get a hotel room." "No!" she said quickly. "Alexander is away for work. Liam stays at his own place in the city now. You can use his old room tonight. Come on, I will show you." So my stepbrother had his own penthouse now. I was not surprised. Liam had always been ambitious. His old room was on the second floor, first door on the left. When my mother opened it, I felt like I was stepping back in time. The posters were still on the walls. The skateboard in the corner. The glass case full of his strange collectibles. I remembered the teacup I had almost dropped once. He had laughed and told me I could have anything I wanted from his collection. I had not believed him then. I was not sure I believed him now. "I always keep his room ready, in case he wants to stay over," my mother said, hovering in the doorway. "But if you would be more comfortable in the guest room, I can have it ready in half an hour." "No," I cut her off. "This is fine." "Okay." She hesitated, like she wanted to say more. But she did not. "Love you, sweetheart. Sleep well." She brought my bag in and closed the door. The moment I was alone, my legs gave out. I slid down to the floor, my back against the bed. I pressed my palms to my eyes. But when I closed them, all I could hear was that woman's voice. Moaning his name. The bed shaking. Skin slapping together. I climbed into Liam's bed and pulled the covers over my head. The sheets smelled like mint and clean wood. The scent was calming. I buried myself deeper, pretending it was an embrace. I wished Liam was here. It had been three years since we had really talked. But right now, I needed a friend. I cried until I fell asleep. When morning light streamed through the window, my head was pounding. I groaned and sat up slowly. I needed a cold shower. Anything to wake me up. Liam's bathroom was spotless. No shampoo. No soap. I wondered how long it had been since he had stayed here. I turned the water on and gasped as it hit my skin. But it helped. My head felt clearer. Then I remembered. My bag was still in the bedroom. There was not even a towel in here. I hesitated. I did not want to walk around naked in my stepbrother's room. But he was not here. It would be fine. I opened the door just a crack and peeked out. No one was there. I hurried into the bedroom. My mother had put my bag in the closet. I pulled the door open and grabbed the strap of my backpack. A box fell off the shelf and clattered to the floor. I froze. "What the…" I looked down. My breath caught. It was a box of condoms. Full. Unopened. How did his room not have a towel, but it had a full box of condoms? The bedroom door swung open. I spun around. A man I had never seen before was standing right there. Tall. Dark hair. Sharp eyes. I screamed. He stared at me. His gaze flicked down to my naked body, then back up to my face. A slow smirk spread across his lips. "Well," he said, his voice low and amused. "This is not how I expected to find my little sister."