Tempt Me Again, Stepbrother

Testing The Rules

"Well, well, well," Darcy drawled, her polished red heels clicking loudly against the floor.

She held a glass of champagne in one hand, her eyes sweeping over the table with a mix of amusement and venom. "Look at this cozy little gathering."

The warmth of the room instantly vanished, replaced by a suffocating tension.

My father immediately dismissed the tense waitress, so she wouldn't be faulted for my aunt's intrusion.

Darcy was the mirror image of my mother, same sharp cheekbones and the exact same knack for dragging chaos into every room she walked into.

My father’s jaw clenched so hard a muscle twitched in his cheek. He didn't stand up, but his posture went rigid. "Darcy. You're in a private room."

"Oh, darling, please. As if a door could keep me away from a Jackson family celebration," she scoffed, her gaze drifting lazily to Amelia, then down to the silver ring gleaming on her finger.

Darcy gasped dramatically, pressing a hand to her chest. "No... don't tell me. Did you actually go through with it? A new wife?”

Amelia kept her composure, and through a forced cordial smile she said "This is a family dinner, if you could please excuse us”

"Family?" Darcy laughed, a high, mocking sound that made the fine crystal on the table vibrate.

She took a slow sip of her champagne, leaning lightly against the back of an empty chair. "It's hilarious, really. All those years my sister was dragged through the mud, accused of ruining the sacred Jackson name... and here you are, Jackson, dining with the very mistress you kept hidden in the shadows."

"Watch your tongue, Darcy," my father snapped, his voice dropping into a dangerously low register.

"I will say my piece," she purred, her eyes flashing with pure malice. "My sister might have made her mistakes, but you? You're no saint. You played the victim so well while keeping this one warm on the side, just waiting for the ink on the divorce papers to dry so you could play happy step-family."

Maureen shifted uncomfortably beside me, squeezing her hands in her lap. I sat frozen, the old familiar bitterness twisting in my gut. This was how my mother’s side of the family always operated, turning every room into a battlefield.

“You're also a cheat Jackson…”

"You're making a scene," a smooth, calm voice interrupted.

Neville hadn't stood up. He was leaning back in his chair, one arm draped over the headrest, staring up at Darcy with a look of pure, unadulterated coldness.

Darcy blinked, caught off guard "And who are you supposed to be? The dutiful stepson?" She laughed.

Neville didn't smile. He tilted his head slightly, his light brown eyes locking onto hers with a quiet, focus that cut right through her loud performance.

"I'm the guy giving you five seconds to turn around and walk back out that door," Neville said softly, his tone flat, devoid of any warmth or patience. "Before I have security physically remove you from the premises. I'm sure your friends out in the main dining room would love to watch that."

Darcy opened her mouth to snap back, but as her eyes met Neville’s, whatever insult she had lined up died in her throat.

There was an unspoken threat in his stance, an absolute lack of fear, that made even her back down.

She swallowed hard, smoothing down the front of her designer dress. "Unbelievable," she muttered, though her voice lacked its previous bite.

She cast one last bitter look across the table. "Enjoy your little illusion while it lasts” and to me she smiled sweetly. “Be careful Vee baby”

With a sharp spin on her heels, she marched out of the room, letting the heavy door slam shut behind her.

Silence settled over the table like lead.

"Thank you Neville" my father said quietly after a long moment, rubbing his temples. He looked exhausted, the sharp edge of his triumph entirely dulled by Darcy's sudden appearance. "Let me settle the tab. We're going home."

The drive back to the estate was suffocatingly quiet. Maureen was dropped along the way.

By the time we reached the house, the atmosphere felt heavy with unspoken frustration.

My father and Amelia retired to their wing almost immediately, the weight of the evening clearly catching up to them.

I went straight to my room, kicking off my heels and shedding the pastel dress for a dark satin nightgown.

I stood by the window for a long time, staring out at the dimly lit grounds.

Suddenly a soft, almost imperceptible knock sounded at my door.

I didn't even have to ask who it was. I walked over and pulled the door open.

Neville stood in the hallway. He had stripped off his suit jacket and tie; the top few buttons of his black dress shirt were undone, rolled up at the sleeves to reveal his forearms.

"Are you going to let me in?" he asked, his voice a low rumble.

I stepped back without a word, letting him glide into the room before softly clicking the door shut and sliding the lock into place.

The moment the lock clicked, Neville turned around. The distance between us closed in two sharp strides. His hands came up to frame my face, his thumb tracing the line of my jaw before tilting my head up.

"You were quiet the whole drive back," he murmured, his light brown eyes searching mine in the dim light of my bedroom. "Still thinking about your aunt?"

"No," I breathed, my breath catching as his fingers brushed down the sensitive skin of my neck. "I don't care about Darcy."

"Good," he whispered. "Because I didn't come in here to talk about her."

Before I could reply, his mouth pulled over mine.

It wasn't like the gentle, lingering kiss from the night before.

This was possessive and urgent.

I let out a soft gasp against his lips, my fingers tangling into his thick hair, pulling him closer.

He groaned, wrapping an arm around my waist and lifting me effortlessly until my feet were off the ground, pinning my back against the locked door.

"Neville..." I whispered against his skin as his lips dragged down my jaw, pressing sharp, fiery kisses along the slope of my throat.

“Yeah baby," he growled lightly, his voice thick with lust as his hand traced down the curve of my waist, pulling the smooth satin of my nightgown up my thigh.

"Please," I pleaded, though I didn't exactly know what I was begging for. A shudder ran through me as his hand slid over my warm skin, setting every nerve ending on fire.

The danger of it, being under the exact same roof as our parents, just hours after they legally bound our families together, only made the air thicker.

He carried me toward the bed, the mattress giving way beneath us as he pressed me down into the sheets. Neville hovered over me, his dark gaze locked onto mine, unhurried now, drinking in every quick breath I took.

"Tell me to stop if you want to," he challenged softly, his fingers brushing a stray strand of hair away from my face, his body pressing heavily against mine. "Say it now."

I gripped his shoulders, pulling him down until his chest was pressed flush against mine, the warmth of his skin radiating through his thin shirt.

"Don't you dare stop," I whispered.