Series: Peach State Stepbros Series by Riley Hart
Total pages in book: 95
Estimated words: 92311 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 462(@200wpm)___ 369(@250wpm)___ 308(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 92311 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 462(@200wpm)___ 369(@250wpm)___ 308(@300wpm)
“Troy! Atlas! It’s time for cake,” comes Glen’s angry voice from the hallway.
We both fumble getting away from each other, and somehow tumble to the floor just as Glen comes in. He takes in the mess, the broken lamp, fire in his gaze. “You’re fighting? What the fuck is wrong with you, Atlas?”
Because of course it’s my fault. It’s always my fault.
“Get this mess cleaned up, and then get your asses downstairs for cake. Don’t ruin this day for Ellie.”
And for whatever the fuck reason, we both do as he says, neither of us saying a word or looking at each other the whole time.
Glen watches and then escorts us downstairs, a fake smile plastered in place. “Video games.” Glen playfully rolls his eyes as if he’s saying silly boys.
I make it through singing “Happy Birthday” and dishing out cake and ice cream, but I don’t eat any, and the second that part is done, I leave. This day has been enough of a mindfuck, and I don’t think I can handle another second of it.
11
Troy
Ash and I sit at the desk in my room. When he showed up, he pulled his swivel chair in with him, something that’s become part of our routine since he started tutoring me for Thermo. I was curious to see how it would work out, if Ash might be too flirtatious to make studying possible, but it hasn’t been an issue. He’ll bat his pretty lashes or scoot a little closer to me, but as we’ve struggled through my confusion and misapprehensions around the concepts, our discussions or straight-up arguments have surely made me lose some of my appeal to him. He’s a sexy guy; don’t get me wrong. But I’ve never felt anything toward him, and I’m sure Colin is thrilled about that.
While he grades my latest practice test, I pull Instagram up on my phone and peruse my feed.
This’ll be the fourth practice test he’s given me since we started studying together, and I only have a week until the actual test. I’m doing better than when we started this, but still no touchdown. Certainly not doing well enough to guarantee a BJ.
While I’m on Instagram, without thinking much about it, I pull up Atlas’s profile.
He’s got some photos with his friends, hanging out and playing video games. There are a few of interesting finds at the metal yard. And others of places around town. The most recent is from the Alpha Theta Mu party he crashed. I think about how I smoothed things over with Marty and some of the other guys: “He’s my stepbrother. He’s not going to be a problem this year, I promise.” Saying things I didn’t believe.
I zoom in to Atlas’s mouth—the subtle arches of his upper lip, the full bottom lip that gives him that sexy, pouty look.
Why the fuck am I zooming in to my stepbrother’s mouth?
Even if I do win this bet, it’s not like he’s actually going to blow me with it.
Is he?
I consider the hard-on he had at our parents’ place. That could have been anything. Hell, I’ve had rage boners just from watching the Vols lose a game, so I know getting an erection doesn’t have to mean anything. Although, I don’t have any excuse for why I got so hard while we were wrestling around.
Everything happened so fast, and before I knew it, he was on top of me. The tension, the heat, our bodies pressed against each other as we gazed into each other’s eyes…
It was my fault he was hurting. I shouldn’t have told him what Margot said. I should have lied, though I would have hated myself for lying to him.
I was in so much pain; he was in so much pain. I wanted to kiss him and make it all go away, let us forget all about Sabine and Margot’s fucked-up comments, but even more importantly, to forget all about our fucked-up pasts.
“You’re hard.”
I was painfully hard, and then he fucking flipped us, and I imagined him riding me like that.
Fuck. It just wouldn’t stop. All those images I’d tried to push away raced through my mind in an instant, and I imagined a very different sort of tussle. I imagined him having my name on his ass, pushing into him as he begged me to go harder.
And now I’m hard again.
Fuck.
I slide my textbook off the desk and rest it in my lap. No need to torture Colin’s brother and give him false hope.
“Seven out of ten,” Ash says, grabbing my attention. He must see my disappointment because he says, “You’re doing good.” He hands me the practice test.
“Good?” Not good enough to show Atlas up.
Ash smiles. I can’t imagine why. “You’re doubting my skills?”
“No, it’s better than the three I got on that first one. But the last one was six, and it’s not a good enough grade.”