MY STEPBROTHER, MY RUIN

CHAPTER 006: WET, MISTAKE, AND LENGTH

JUNE;

The sun poured through the light curtains as if it had been waiting for hours to wake me up. I blinked against the brightness, my eyes heavy and sticky, and rolled over in the huge bed.

My body sank deeper into the mattress, all soft and fluffy like a cloud had decided to hug me all night. For the first time in years I had overslept, and I hated admitting it felt good. The bed was too comfy, that was all.

At least it was better than admitting I had stayed up for the better parts of the night because my brain couldn't stop replaying every sharp word Ronan had thrown at me during dinner, or the way his gray boxers had looked when he jumped up in his room, or the hard curve in it that looked like they were going to rip the fabric apart. Nope. Just the bed.

I reached for the clock on the nightstand. The numbers glowed 9:47. My mouth fell open.

“Seriously?” I muttered, sitting up fast. I grabbed my phone from beside the clock and tapped the screen. Messages from Mary lit up one after another. Oh, My God! I had missed a ton of her calls.

Mary: June!!! You alive?

Mary: Call me when you get settled, girl. I miss you already

Mary: Let’s meet up by evening? Cafeteria near the old spot tomorrow? We need to catch up.

Mary: Don’t ghost me now that you’re in a mansion

Isn't this girl too dramatic? What's the crying emoji at the end for? A small smile tugged at my lips. I could almost see her sitting under that big shady tree in front of our house, legs crossed, while we talked about everything.

Now the tree was gone, replaced by some new building, and we had to meet like grown-ups in a cafeteria. But it still felt right, nothing out of the ordinary.

I typed back quickly, telling her the evening was perfect, and how I couldn't wait to pour all my frustrations out.

Then I set the alarm on the clock, that would help me not oversleep next time. I was only lucky today because it was a Saturday.

My feet hit the floor, and I slipped into the slippers waiting by the bed.

Today I had stuff to do. I thought about them as I moved into the bathroom: unpack the rest of my worn-out clothes, arrange them in the closet the way I liked it, make this giant room feel like mine instead of some fancy guest space. And later, meet Mary.

That part made my chest feel lighter. I jammed the bathroom door behind me, still rubbing sleep from my eyes. The small round mirror above the sink showed my messy hair and puffy face. I turned the faucet. A tiny trickle of water came out, then nothing. Just air and a sad gurgle.

“What the f..?” I twisted the handle harder.

This must be some sick joke. My core was burning up. I spun at once, tried the shower next. Same sad ugly gurgle, not even a drop of water escaped from it. A scream burst out of me before I could stop it, almost too loud.

“How can water run out in a house this huge? This is ridiculous!” I blurted.

Fists clenching at my sides, face hot with frustration. Just then a soft knock sounded on the door. I sighed, stormed out of the bathroom, and into the bedroom.

Yanking the door open. Mariah, the maid who had cleared the dinner plates last night. She had introduced herself a little too cheerfully as the head maid when I helped her out with the plates.

“Good morning, Miss June,” she said gently. “Your mom asked me to let you know she and Mr. Grayson stepped out early. They didn’t want to wake you. They’ll be back before lunch.”

I nodded, still gripping the door frame, my other hand pressed to my stomach because I really needed the bathroom now.

“Thanks, Mariah. Um… do you know where they went?”

She shook her head.

“They didn’t say, miss. But they went out without the driver.”

Oh! I nodded softly. That must have been one lovers’ spree.

I was about to close the door when my stomach rumbled low.

“Wait,” I called out. “There’s no water upstairs. The sink, the shower, nothing comes out. How is that even possible?”

Mariah’s smile turned a little sorry.

“Oh, yes. Plumbing issue hit all the upstairs bathrooms this morning. Mr. Grayson already called the plumber, but he can’t come until later this afternoon. In the meantime, you can use the bathroom downstairs in the hallway, but,” she paused.

“The one at the far end is off-limits, that’s for your mom and Mr. Grayson. But the middle one is free and fully working.”

Relief washed over me. There's a way out after all.

“Okay, great. Thanks so much.” I managed a real smile this time even though my insides still felt twisted. At least I had somewhere to go. I shut the door quickly, heart beating a little faster now.

I yanked off the thin robe I had slept in, letting it drop to the floor. My skin prickled in the cool air. I grabbed a big fluffy towel from the chair and wrapped it tight around my chest, tucking the end so it wouldn’t slip.

Then I snatched the jar of the fruity shower gel from last night, twisted the lid, and breathed in the sweet mango-peach smell. It calmed me a tiny bit, another thing I had come to love in this house.

I walked down the stairs, humming my favorite tune from Mariah Carey. Then I stopped in front of the bathroom door. A low growl reached my ears, I paused for a second longer, listened carefully, the growl was still there, more like a groan. I waved it off my mind, probably one of the faulty pipes.

My fingers circled the shiny doorknob. I pushed the door open without knocking because who would be in there this early on a Saturday?

Steam hit me first, warm and thick like a cloud. Then my eyes landed on him.

Ronan.

Stark naked under the running shower. Water streamed down his carved chest and stomach, mixing with white lather that clung to his skin.

His hand was wrapped around his long, hard d**k, stroking slowly, deliberately, like he was doing what my mind thought he was… doing. My mouth darted open at once.

Droplets ran down his arms, his thighs, everything. His chestnut hair was soaked too, covered in the same foamy lather, sticking to his forehead.

My breath caught sharp in my throat. I swallowed hard

“June,” he mumbled low, voice rough and surprised. He spun halfway toward me, one hand still gripping himself, eyes wide as they locked on mine. What was he thinking leaving the bathroom door unlocked?

I stood frozen in the doorway, towel clutched so tight against my chest. Words froze halfway on my lips. My heart slammed against my ribs like it wanted to break free.

Heat rushed up my neck and burned my cheeks. I tried to look away, but my eyes wouldn’t obey. They stayed glued to the way his wet body glistened, the slow movement of his hand, the thick length he held, everything so raw and exposed. My mouth went dry. My legs felt weak, like they might give out any second.

Ronan’s chest rose and fell fast. Water kept pouring over him, mixing with the lather, running in little rivers down his abs. He didn’t cover up. He didn’t shout. He just stared back at me, dark eyes burning with shock and something hotter, something that made the air between us feel thick and electric.

“Get out,” he growled, but his voice cracked, low and strained, like the words didn’t want to leave his throat.

I opened my mouth, but no sound came. My mind spun in circles, flashing the image over and over, his hand moving, his body tight with tension, the way he looked at me now, with his eyes ripping off the fold of the towel.

Embarrassment crashed into me like a wave. What was this feeling stirring up inside me? Something strange, confusing, and dangerous that made my stomach flip and my core tighten.

I couldn’t move. Couldn’t breathe right. The steam wrapped around us both, making everything feel closer, hotter. His eyes never left mine, daring me, challenging me, pulling me in even as my brain screamed to run.