Claimed By My Outlaw Stepbrother

Chapter 8

SIENNA pov~

My feet felt like lead as I walked up the pine stairs, trying to keep my breathing completely steady.

Downstairs had been a total nightmare. Sitting at the dining table with Vera staring at me and Big Raymond sitting there like a brick wall was enough to make anyone sweat.

My dad had looked so nervous I thought he was going to throw up his eggs, and the whole time, the stolen compound gate key was heavy and cold inside the front pocket of my denim shorts.

Gage and I had played our roles perfectly, barely looking at each other and acting like we couldn't stand being in the same room.

I reached the top of the landing, turned the corner, and pushed Gage's bedroom door open without knocking.

"Gage, we need to talk about my dad…."

The words died right in my throat.

Gage was standing in the middle of the room, completely naked except for a pair of loose gray sweatpants that he was currently pulling up over his hips.

His heavy black leather club cut and his shirt were tossed onto the desk chair. His broad chest and back were completely bare, showing off the dark, heavy tribal tattoos wrapping around his shoulders and the old club lettering running down his ribs.

He looked massive, his muscles rigid as he froze, a clean black t-shirt dangling from his hand.

My face instantly went entirely hot. I should have turned around and walked right out, but my boots felt completely glued to the floorboards.

"Ever heard of knocking, stepsister?" Gage growled, his voice low and raspy. He didn't scramble to cover himself up. Instead, he just slowly pulled the black t-shirt over his head, his gray eyes pinning me to the spot as his messy black hair poked through the collar.

"This is supposed to be my room too right now, Vandal," I fired back, finally snapping out of it and slamming the heavy oak door shut behind me.

I slid the metal deadbolt into place with a loud click just to make sure Vera didn't walk in on this disaster. "If you're going to strip down in the middle of the floor, lock the door yourself."

"I was in my own quarters before you barged in," he muttered, tossing his boots into the corner. He stepped closer, the scent of his asphalt, cheap tobacco, and fresh soap instantly crowding the tight space between the dresser and the bed.

"What's wrong with you? You look like you just saw a ghost downstairs."

"I'm fine," I lied, stepping out of my heavy work boots and walking over to the dresser, keeping my back to him so he wouldn't see my hands shaking.

The grease-stained work tank top I was wearing felt tight, and my heart was thumping like crazy against my ribs. "Your dad was just staring at me like he wanted to audit my shop's taxes. It's annoying."

"My father isn't the problem," Gage whispered, his heavy steps moving across the hardwood floor until he stopped right behind me.

I could feel the heat radiating off his bare skin before he even touched me. I tensed up, my blue eyes narrowing as I looked at his reflection in the small dresser mirror.

He was standing close enough that his chest almost brushed my shoulder blades, his jaw tight with dark stubble.

"Your father is the one who's going to get us killed," Gage growled softly, his voice dropping into that dark, starved register that made the hair on my arms stand up.

"He was shaking through his shirt at breakfast. If he blows this fake claim in front of the President, the table will turn on me before the sun goes down."

"I can handle my dad, Gage," I said, turning around quickly to face him, my calves hitting the edge of the high mattress.

I held up a clean grease rag between us like a shield, refusing to let him crowd me out. "And you need to step back. Our deal still stands. You sleep on the floor boards."

Gage didn't back down. A slow, genuinely amused twitch hit the corner of his mouth, his gray eyes locking onto mine with a look that made the air inside the room go completely tight.

"I broke a man's wrist for your shop today, Sienna," he murmured, his large, heavily tattooed hand reaching out, his fingers hovering just an inch away from my waist, testing the boundary.

"And I spent four long years looking for your face along the state line. I'm getting really tired of the floor boards."

Gage didn’t pull his hand back. He just let his fingers brush the very edge of my grey tank top, the heat from his skin burning right through the worn cotton.

"I didn't ask you to break anyone's wrist, Vandal," I muttered, my voice coming out a little lower than I wanted.

I kept my chin up, staring straight into his gray eyes, but my fingers were practically tearing the grease rag in half. "And stop using the lake party as an excuse to crowd my space."

"It's not an excuse," he whispered.

He took that last step, completely closing the distance until the rigid lines of his chest pressed right against my palms. I didn't push him away, and he didn't grab me.

He just leaned down slowly, giving me every single second to back out, to shove him toward the concrete floor boards, or to walk out the door.

I didn't move.

When his mouth finally touched mine, it wasn't some soft, polite stepbrother kiss. It was rough, heavy, and desperate like a man who had been starving in the desert for four years and finally found water.

The taste of him, mixed with the faint tang of his cheap tobacco, hit me like a physical shock. A soft gasp left my lips, and Gage used that exact second to deepen the kiss, his large, tattooed hand finally wrapping tight around the back of my neck to hold me still.

My brain went completely offline. The stolen compound key in my pocket, my deadbeat father, the scary President downstairs everything just vanished.

My calloused hands slid up his bare, muscular chest, my fingers locking hard into the hair at the back of his neck as I pulled him closer.

He let out a low, rough growl against my mouth, his other hand coming down to grip my hip, pinning my lower body flush against his sweatpants.

The sheer size of him was terrifying, but the way his mouth was moving against mine felt like a dangerous, highly addictive drug I couldn't stop taking.

He kissed me until my knees literally went weak, my back arching slightly over the edge of the high mattress. He trailed his lips down to my jawline, his dark stubble scratching my skin, his hot breath making my entire body shudder.

"Gage..." I breathed, my hands shaking as I gripped his broad shoulders. "Stop. Someone's going to hear."

He paused, his forehead resting against mine, his chest heaving violently as he tried to catch his breath. His gray eyes were completely dark, the pupils blown wide as he stared down at my swollen lips.

"Let them listen," he rasped, though he slowly let his hands drop from my waist, giving me back my breathing room. He looked completely wrecked, his alpha armor totally gone as he rubbed a hand through his messy black hair.

"Get some rest, Sienna. I have to go down to the garage to check the patrol lines with Jax. Lock the deadbolt behind me."

He grabbed a clean shirt from the desk, pulled his heavy leather cut back over his shoulders, and walked out, the door clicking shut behind him.

I stood there by the dresser for a long minute, my heart thumping like crazy against my ribs. I reached into my pocket, pulled out the heavy, cold iron master key my dad had stolen, and shoved it deep under the mattress where no one would ever find it.