Two Mates And A Mistletoe

SIX

He walked toward the open doorway, and she stepped aside, a massive wave of relief washing over her. This bizarre, humiliating nightmare was finally over.

But as she moved, the slippery silk belt of her robe chose that exact moment to give up. The knot came loose. The front panels of her robe swung open for just a second before she grabbed them.

It was just a second. Just a flash of the thin, lacy strap of her nightdress against her shoulder, the curve of her neck, her collarbone.

Adrian stopped dead.

He wasn’t looking at the door anymore. He was looking at her shoulder.

'Oh, no.'

Evelyn looked up at him. The air in the room changed. It got thicker, hotter. The annoyed tension snapped into something else. Something sharp and hungry.

'Her skin. It’s so… I need to touch it. Just once.'

“Adrian?” she said, her voice suddenly small.

His arm shot out. His hand slammed the door shut right in front of her face. The bang echoed in the room. Then he turned, his body caging hers against the solid wood.

Evelyn gasped, the breath knocked out of her. “What are you—?”

'I need to touch her. I need to.'

“Adrian, stop,” she whispered. It sounded weak, even to her.

He didn’t stop. He leaned in, ducking his head. His nose brushed against the side of her neck, right where the robe had gaped open. He inhaled, a deep, slow sound.

'She smells like vanilla. And sugar. Something that’s mine.'

“Stop,” she said again. But her hands, the traitors, didn’t push him away. They came up and fisted in the soft cotton of his shirt, holding on.

He dragged the bridge of his nose along her collarbone. The touch was slow. Deliberate. Her knees felt wobbly.

'Mine. She’s supposed to be mine.,

“Adrian…” His name was a sigh.

I want to mark her right here. I want everyone to see it. To know.

Her brain was screaming at her. This was wrong. He was her stepbrother. Her mom was downstairs, probably drinking tea with his dad. This was the worst idea in the history of bad ideas.

But her body was not listening to her brain. Her body was leaning into his heat. That strange, magnetic pull was back, stronger than ever. It felt like if he stepped away, she’d just fall over.

“Please,” she whispered. She didn’t know if she was begging him to go or to stay.

Adrian’s lips brushed against the spot where her neck met her shoulder. A full-body shiver racked her.

'Just one taste. That’s all. Just one.'

“No,” she said. But it turned into a low moan when he ran the flat of his tongue over the same spot. The heat of his mouth on her skin was shocking.

Her fingers tightened in his shirt. She hated herself for it. She hated how good it felt. How right it felt, even though it was so completely wrong.

'I could make her mine right now. She wants it. I can feel her heart racing.'

“Stop,” she said, but her voice broke on the word.

He didn’t stop. His hands, which had been at his sides, came up and gripped her waist. They were big and warm, even through the layers of fabric. He pulled her flush against him, and she felt the hard, solid press of his entire body.

'She’s perfect.'

Evelyn’s mind was a war. One side shouted about family and consequences and messes that could not be cleaned up. The other side, a side she didn’t know she had, chanted more, more, more.

Then Adrian’s tongue swept over that sensitive spot on her neck again, slower this time, and a helpless sound escaped her lips before she could choke it back.

The sound—a soft, wanting moan—snapped her out of it.

“NO!” she gasped. She shoved against his chest with all her strength.

Adrian stumbled back, catching himself on the edge of the wooden desk. His chest was heaving. His eyes were wild, pupils blown wide.

'What am I doing? What the actual hell am I doing?'

Evelyn pressed herself against the door like she wanted to melt into it. Her whole body was trembling. “You need to leave. Right now.”

He stared at her, his jaw clenched so tight it looked painful. “Evelyn—”

“No,” she said, forcing her voice to be firm even though it shook. “No talking. Just leaving. Now.”

'I can’t. I can’t walk out that door. I need to—'

“Adrian, I swear to God,” she said, her voice rising to a shout, “if you don’t leave right this second, I will scream. I will scream so loud that your dad, my mom, the butler, the cooks, and every single person in this castle will come running up here. And then what? How are you going to explain why you’re in your stepsister’s locked bedroom with her looking like this?”

That finally broke through to him.

He stood there, his hands clenching and unclenching at his sides. His breathing was ragged.

'She’s right. I have to go. But I don’t want to.'

“Adrian, please,” she whispered, the fight draining out of her, leaving only shaky fear.

He closed his eyes, his jaw working. Then, without another word, he turned and walked to the door.

Evelyn fumbled with the key, her hands shaking badly. She finally got it unlocked and yanked the door open, scrambling out of his way.

He paused in the doorway, his back to her. His shoulders were tense. “This isn’t over.”

“Yes,” she said, wrapping her arms around herself. “It is. It’s so over it’s in the past tense. It was over. It’s done.”

He looked back at her over his shoulder. His eyes were still dark, but the wildness was fading, replaced by a grim certainty. “You felt it too. That pull. Don’t stand there and pretend you didn’t.”

She pressed her lips together and said nothing.

Adrian stared at her for one more long second. Then he turned and walked out into the dimly lit hallway. He didn’t slam the door this time. He just pulled it shut with a soft, final click.

Evelyn locked the door. She slid down the length of it until she was sitting on the cold floor. She drew her knees up to her chest and buried her face in them. Her whole body wouldn’t stop trembling.

What was happening to her? Why did she feel this insane, illogical draw to both of them? And why, despite the terror and the guilt, was a part of her—a stupid, stubborn part—wishing Adrian had stayed?

She sat there on the hard floor, her heart pounding a frantic rhythm against her ribs. She whispered the words into the quiet, dark room.

“I am so, so completely screwed.”