Wet Summer (Season of Love #1) Read Online C.M. Steele

Categories Genre: Alpha Male, Biker, Billionaire, Insta-Love, MC, Novella, Virgin Tags Authors: Series: Season of Love Series by C.M. Steele
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Total pages in book: 17
Estimated words: 15351 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 77(@200wpm)___ 61(@250wpm)___ 51(@300wpm)
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It’s my mother. I suppose she’s taking the time to call me since her new husband is on the phone with Drake. “What’s up?” I answer with a little bit of distaste. She and I have had an extremely strained relationship over the past decade. As she went from husband to husband, I became her little helper, a tool to con husbands, and there’s a part of me that wonders if she knew about her ex-husband and his plans for me.

“What did you tell him?” she hisses into the phone, trying to whisper so he can’t hear her.

“Nothing? Why?”

“You’re supposed to charm him. You’re an adult, and he’s a handsome man.”

“He’s my stepbrother,” I remind her like it even matters to either of us. She’ll be through him within a year, and Drake will never be considered a brother to me. He’s been my dream guy for months.

“Oh, please. He’s not your real brother, and he’s extremely wealthy. Besides, he’s going to ruin everything for me. I’m not pregnant, but Walter is going to find out soon. Do your job, or I’m going to find you a rich husband.”

“Are you crazy?” I screech.

“No, I want a wonderful lifestyle, and they will give it to us. Now work it, girl.”

I slam my eyes shut and end the call because she’s tainted my fantasy of a relationship with him. I should pack up and run away.

There’s a heavy knock on the door. I hop off the bed and open the door to see Drake standing there with his brows raised, looking around me. He’s standing there in just a pair of pajama pants and a plain white tee shirt, and I’m trying to control my rapidly beating heart. With every change of clothes, he gets sexier. “Everything okay?”

“Yes,” I pant like I’ve been sprinting. The man couldn’t be hotter. I didn’t think it was possible. His hair has been tousled like he’s been running his fingers through it.

“You were yelling a minute ago.” Damn it. I was too loud.

“Sorry, I was on the phone with my mother.”

“Yes, I overheard. Why is your mother crazy?”

If he didn’t hear all of it, I’m not going to tell him. “Nothing. Are the walls that thin?”

“I was passing by when I caught the conversation.”

“Oh, because I wouldn’t want your girlfriends to be embarrassed while I’m here if I heard anything.”

“You don’t need to worry about that. I’m on the other side of the staircase.”

“So, I guess you’re all good then. Goodnight again, Drake.”

“Well, as long as you’re okay.”

“I am.”

“Goodnight, Summer.” He walks away, and I want to howl about the women who come to his home and take care of his needs. Who are they? Does he have a girlfriend that his father doesn’t know about? I mean, they don’t speak even though they share a home. He didn’t even know his father got married. I suppose living in different parts of the city is easy.

Still, I can’t let that get to me. I have to find a way to be free from my mother’s grasp. She took away my ID and purse, hiding them from me, so I’m actually stuck here and I literally only have the clothes in my suitcase to my name. I might be eighteen, but I’m only three days into my eighteenth birthday, and she intentionally took all things away from me after promising me a chance at college and financial freedom. She never allowed me to get my driver’s license when I was in high school because she wanted complete control over me, and that was the way to do it. If she didn’t need the ID for legal purposes, I wouldn’t have that either.

She’s a shrew and a half, but who do I have to turn to? Every man she’s ever been with hates us both, and she’s run out of friends. The police would laugh at me, and I doubt my newest stepbrother would bother to lend me a hand after what I shared earlier.

Chapter Three

Drake

The conversation with my father didn’t go well. “It’s nice of you to return my calls after dropping off a squatter in my home.”

“She’s not a squatter. She’s your stepsister. We thought it would be a good idea for you to bond with her while we were gone.”

“You mean you wanted a babysitter for her,” I say.

“She’s eighteen and doesn’t need a babysitter.”

“Oh yeah, that’s right, because she has that bodyguard that was watching her like a hawk while she was swimming in my pool half fucking naked.”

“Half-naked?”

“Well, that damn bikini was showing more than it should have. He was practically drooling.”

“Are you sure it was only him that was drooling?”

“That’s not what this is about. You got married for two whole fucking months and didn’t have the decency to tell me. How long have you known this woman? How long has she been digging her claws into your bank account?”


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