“This isn’t a good time,” I said, trying to keep my voice gentle but firm.

  “I know, I know. I should’ve called first. But I was worried you wouldn’t answer, or that you’d tell me not to come.” His eyes searched mine, pleading. “I just need five minutes. Please.”

  Behind me, I heard movement. Kent had stepped closer. I could feel his presence even though I couldn’t see him, could sense the tension radiating off him.

  “Trevor, I appreciate you coming here, but nothing’s changed since we talked. I still need⁠—”

  “Is someone here?” Trevor asked, craning his neck to try to see past me. “I’m not interrupting anything, am I?”

  “Just my stepbrother,” I said, the words tasting like ash in my mouth. “He lives here, remember?”

  “Oh. Right.” Trevor’s expression darkened slightly. He knew Kent was the thing on my mind the most and the reason I’d called things off. “Can I come in? Just for a few minutes? I promise I won’t take up much of your time.”

  Every instinct I had was screaming at me to say no, to shut this down before it got messy. But Trevor was looking at me with those puppy dog eyes, and I could feel Kent’s gaze burning into my back, and I didn’t know how to navigate this without hurting someone.

  “I don’t think that’s a good idea,” I started, but Trevor was already stepping forward.

  “Please, James. Just give me a chance to say what I need to say.”

  I hesitated, my hand still on the door, caught between the man in front of me who wanted to fight for something we’d never really had, and the man behind me who’d somehow become everything I didn’t know I needed.

  “Just let him in,” I heard Kent say behind me, no small amount of jealousy in his voice. “Let him say his piece.”

  I turned to look at Kent, searching his face for any sign that he was serious. His jaw was tight, his arms crossed over his chest, but there was something else in his eyes. A challenge, maybe. Or a test.

  “You sure?” I asked quietly.

  “Yeah.” His voice was flat, controlled. “Let him in.”

  I stepped back, opening the door wider. Trevor’s face brightened immediately, and he stepped inside, his eyes sweeping the apartment before landing on Kent standing near the couch.

  “Hey, man,” Trevor said, offering a friendly wave. “Sorry to intrude. I just needed to talk to James for a minute.”

  Kent didn’t respond, just gave a curt nod. The tension in the room was thick enough to cut with a knife, and I wondered if Trevor could feel it or if he was too focused on whatever speech he’d prepared to notice.

  “So,” I said, closing the door and leaning against it. “What did you want to say?”

  Trevor ran a hand through his hair, a nervous gesture I’d seen before. “Right. Okay. So, I’ve been thinking a lot about our conversation after the movie. About how you said you needed to figure things out. And I get it, I do. But the thing is, James, I think we have something really special. The chemistry we have, the way we connect… That doesn’t come around every day.”

  I could feel Kent’s eyes on me, could sense him watching every micro-expression on my face. My hands felt clammy.

  “Trevor—”

  “Just let me finish.” He took a step closer, and I had to resist the urge to back away. “I know I said I wouldn’t wait around, and I meant it. But I also can’t just walk away without at least trying. You’re worth fighting for, James. And whatever’s going on with you, whatever mixed up feelings you’re working through, I want to be there for you. I want to help you figure it out if I can.”

  The words were sweet. They were exactly what someone should want to hear from a person they were dating. But all I felt was a growing sense of panic because this was going so wrong in so many ways.

  “I appreciate that,” I said carefully. “But like I told you, this isn’t about you. You didn’t do anything wrong. This is about me needing to work through some personal stuff.”

  “About your stepbrother?” Trevor asked, and my blood ran cold.

  “What?”

  “You mentioned him when we talked. And the way you reacted when he showed up at the coffee shop that day...” Trevor’s eyes flicked to Kent, then back to me. “I don’t know, I just got this feeling that there was something going on there. Some kind of family drama or something. But you didn’t elaborate.”

  I forced myself to laugh, hoping it sounded natural. “Family drama, yeah. That’s one way to put it.”

  “So let me help you with it,” Trevor pressed. “Whatever it is, you don’t have to deal with it alone. That’s what relationships are about, right? Supporting each other through the hard stuff.”

  Behind me, I heard Kent shift his weight. When I glanced back at him, his expression was unreadable, but his hands were clenched into fists at his sides.

  “Trevor, I really think you should go,” I said, turning back to face him. “I’m sorry you came all the way up here, but this isn’t going to change anything. I can’t give you what you want.”

  His face fell, the hope draining from his eyes. “Is there someone else?”

  The question hung in the air between us. I could lie. It would be so easy to lie. But something in Trevor’s expression told me he already knew the answer.

  “It’s complicated,” I said finally.

  “That’s a yes, then.” He took a step back, his shoulders sagging. “Wow. Okay. I guess I really am an idiot.”

  “You’re not an idiot. And it’s not what you think⁠—”

  “No, it’s fine.” He held up a hand, cutting me off. “I get it. You met someone else, and you’re trying to let me down easy. I should’ve seen it coming.” His eyes flicked to Kent again, something clicking into place in his expression. “Is it him?”

  My heart stopped. “What?”

  “Your stepbrother. Is it him?” Trevor’s voice was rising now, disbelief and hurt mixing together. “Is that why you’ve been so weird about him? Why you freaked out when he showed up at the coffee shop?”

  “Trevor, you need to leave.” Kent’s voice cut through the room like a blade. He’d moved closer, positioning himself slightly between Trevor and me. “Now.”

  “Holy shit.” Trevor was staring at us both now, his expression shifting from hurt to disgust. “You’re fucking your stepbrother?”

  “Get out,” Kent said, his voice low and dangerous.

  “That’s sick, man. That’s really fucking sick.” Trevor was backing toward the door now, shaking his head. “I knew something was off, but this? Jesus Christ, James.”

  Panic was clawing at my throat. This couldn’t be happening. This couldn’t be real.

  “It’s not like that,” I started, but even to my own ears, the words sounded hollow.

  “No, I think it’s exactly like that.” Trevor reached for the door handle, his hand shaking. “I feel like I need to take a shower after being in here. You two are—” He cut himself off, seeming to realize that whatever he was about to say would cross a line even he wasn’t willing to cross. “I’m done. Don’t ever contact me again.”

  The door slammed behind him, the sound echoing through the apartment like a gunshot.

  For a long moment, neither Kent nor I moved. We just stood there in the terrible silence, the weight of what had just happened settling over us like a shroud.

  “Fuck,” I finally breathed, my legs suddenly feeling unsteady beneath me.

  Kent was at my side immediately, his hand on my elbow. “James⁠—”

  “He knows.” I could hear the tremor in my own voice. “He fucking knows, Kent.”

  “He suspects,” Kent corrected, but his face was pale. “That’s not the same as knowing.”

  “Did you see his face?” I pulled away from Kent, pacing toward the window. My hands were shaking. “He put it together. He saw right through us.”

  “So what if he did?” Kent’s voice had an edge to it now, like a challenge. “What’s he going to do, tell everyone? Who would even believe him?”

  I spun around to face him. “Are you serious right now? This is exactly what you were afraid of. People finding out. And now Trevor knows, and he looked at us like we were—” I couldn’t even finish the sentence.

  “Like we were what? Disgusting?” Kent’s jaw was tight. “Yeah, I caught that. Thanks for the reminder.”

  “That’s not what I meant⁠—”

  “Isn’t it?” He moved closer, and I could see the walls going back up in his eyes. The vulnerability from earlier was gone, replaced by the defensive anger I’d gotten so used to seeing from him. “This is what happens, James. This is why I didn’t want anyone to know. Because people look at you like you’re some kind of freak. Just like my coworkers did when I defended you.”

  “Trevor was hurt,” I said, trying to keep my voice steady even though my heart was hammering. “He came here thinking we could work things out, and instead he walked into⁠—”

  “Into what? The truth?” Kent laughed bitterly. “Yeah, sorry the truth is so inconvenient for you.”

  “That’s not fair.”

  “None of this is fair!” His voice rose, and I could see the panic starting to break through his anger. “I defended you tonight. I told off my coworkers, probably fucked up my reputation at work, and for what? So your ex-boyfriend could show up and figure out that we’re—” He cut himself off, running his hands through his hair. “Fuck. Fuck.”

  I wanted to go to him, to put my hands on him and tell him it would be okay. But I didn’t know if that was true. Trevor knew. Or at least, he suspected strongly enough that it might as well be the same thing.

  “What if he tells people?” Kent asked quietly, and there was real fear in his voice now. “What if he goes to my work, or tells my dad, or⁠—”

  “He won’t,” I said, trying to sound more confident than I felt. “Trevor doesn’t even know my last name. He’d never be able to figure out where you worked or who our family is.”

  “You don’t know that.”

  He was right. I didn’t. I’d only known Trevor for a couple of weeks, and most of that time had been spent in his bed getting railed. I didn’t really know what he was capable of when he was hurt and angry.

  My phone buzzed in my pocket. I pulled it out with trembling hands, half-expecting it to be Trevor with some kind of threat. But it was just a notification from my email. I shoved it back in my pocket.

  “We need to talk about this,” I said.

  “What’s there to talk about?” Kent had moved to the couch, sitting down heavily. “Trevor knows. He’s probably already texting all his friends about the sick fucks he met tonight.”

  “Stop.” I sat down beside him, close but not touching. “You don’t know what he’s going to do.”

  “Neither do you.”

  We sat there in silence for a moment. I could feel the space between us widening, could sense Kent retreating back into himself. All the progress we’d made over the past few days felt like it was crumbling.

  “I’m sorry,” I said quietly. “I should’ve been more firm about him leaving. I should’ve⁠—”

  “It’s not your fault.” Kent’s voice was flat. “This was always going to happen, eventually. We were stupid to think we could keep this a secret.”

  “We’ve kept it a secret for less than a week, Kent. That’s not exactly a fair assessment.”

  “Doesn’t matter.” He stood up abruptly. “I need to sleep. I’ve got work in the morning, and I need to figure out what the fuck I’m going to say to Derek when he inevitably asks about tonight.”

  “Kent—”

  “Go to bed.”

  The dismissal stung more than I wanted to admit. But fury rose up behind it.

  “Don’t you fucking dare order me around, Kent,” I barked, stepping up to him and grabbing him by the face. I kissed him hard on the mouth, his body going rigid, but he didn’t pull away. “I’m tired of you getting angry and taking it out on me every time something doesn’t go your way! Stop acting like a child!”

  “I’m not⁠—”

  “Yes you are!” I bellowed. “You always do this when things get scary. You put walls up, you lash out, and you isolate yourself. Well guess what? I’m not Brittany and I won’t tolerate this bullshit.” I pointed a threatening finger toward the bed. “So, you’re going to shut up, get undressed, and sleep in the same bed with me tonight, got it? I won’t let you pull away again just because it’s hard.” And then, in a softer voice, I added, “You promised you wouldn’t run again.”

  Kent looked somewhere between confused, furious, and impressed. But while he was fighting over which emotion to go with, he turned away from me, marched over to the bed, and started to strip his clothes off. When he was down to just boxers, he threw himself onto the mattress with a huff.

  “Go brush your teeth first,” I grunted.

  He moaned again and headed for the bathroom, grumbling the entire way.

  Stepbrothers could be such a pain in the ass.

  Chapter 19

  James

  Iwoke in the middle of the night, overheated and sweating. It took me a moment to remember that Kent was in the bed with me, that I’d practically ordered him to sleep beside me. However, when I’d done that, I hadn’t known he was such a cuddler in his sleep. There was an arm draped over my waist, a leg kicked over my thigh, and his face was buried against the back of my neck. He was like an octopus.

  I tried to shift away, to get some air between us, but his arm tightened reflexively, pulling me closer. A soft sound escaped his throat and I froze.

  That’s when I felt it. The unmistakable hardness pressing against my lower back through the thin fabric of his boxers.

  My breath caught. Kent was hard. Rock hard. And from the way his hips were moving in tiny, unconscious circles, grinding against me, he was definitely dreaming about something.

  I should wake him up. That was the reasonable thing to do. But my body had other ideas. Heat pooled low in my belly, my own cock beginning to stir in response to the feeling of him rutting against me.

  “James,” Kent mumbled, his voice thick with sleep and want.

  Holy shit. He was dreaming about me.

  His hips rolled again, more insistently this time, and I bit back a moan. The friction was maddening even through our boxers. I could feel every ridge, every throb of his cock as it slid against me.

  This was wrong. He was asleep. He didn’t know what he was doing.

  But then his hand slid from my waist down to my hip, fingers digging in as he pulled me back harder against him. His breathing had gone ragged against my neck, hot puffs of air that made me shiver.

  “Fuck,” he breathed, still lost in whatever dream had him in its grip.

  My resolve crumbled. I pressed back against him, meeting his next thrust with one of my own. Kent made a desperate sound, his grip on my hip tightening almost painfully.

  I reached down, hooking my thumbs into the waistband of my boxers and shoving them down. Then I did the same with Kent’s, carefully working them over his straining erection. He stirred slightly but didn’t wake, just kept grinding against me with increasing urgency.

  His bare cock slid against my ass now, hot and slick with pre-cum. I could feel it smearing across my skin, making everything slippery. I reached back, wrapping my hand around his length and guiding him between my cheeks.

  Kent groaned, the sound vibrating against my shoulder. His hips snapped forward instinctively, and the head of his cock caught against my entrance.

  I should stop. I should definitely stop. But instead, I reached for the bedside table, fumbling for the small bottle of lube I kept in the drawer. My hands were shaking as I slicked up my fingers, reaching back to prep myself as quietly as I could.

  Kent’s movements had slowed slightly, his breathing evening out, and I worried he might be waking up. But then I pressed one finger inside myself and had to bite my lip to keep from making noise, and his arm tightened around my waist again.

  I worked myself open quickly, too desperate to take my time. Two fingers, then three, stretching myself while Kent continued his unconscious grinding against my ass. Every time the head of his cock slipped against my hole, I had to fight the urge to just push back and take him.

  When I couldn’t stand it anymore, I slicked up his cock with more lube, coating him thoroughly. Then I reached back, angling him just right, and slowly began to sink down onto him.

  The stretch burned in the best way. I’d prepped myself, but it had been quick, and Kent was thick. I had to pause halfway, breathing through the intensity of it. Behind me, Kent made a confused sound, his hips twitching forward.

  “Shh,” I whispered, not sure if I was talking to him or myself.

  I pushed back further, taking him deeper, until finally he was fully seated inside me. We both went still for a moment, and I could feel his cock pulsing, could feel every breath he took.

  Then Kent’s hips rolled forward, a sleepy, instinctive thrust, and pleasure shot up my spine.

  “Oh fuck,” I breathed, one hand coming up to muffle my mouth.

  He did it again, pulling almost all the way out before sliding back in. His movements were slow and uncoordinated, nothing like the deliberate pace he might have set if he were awake. But something about the unconscious nature of it made it even hotter. He was fucking me in his sleep, driven purely by instinct and need.

  His hand slid from my hip down to wrap around my cock, and I nearly came on the spot. He stroked me in the same lazy rhythm as his thrusts, his palm rough and perfect.

  “James,” he mumbled again, and this time his voice sounded more present, like he might be starting to wake.

  I didn’t care anymore. I pushed back against him, meeting each thrust, chasing the pleasure building inside me. The angle was perfect, hitting that spot inside me that made my toes curl.

  “Kent,” I gasped. “Don’t stop.”

  His rhythm faltered, then suddenly his grip on me tightened. “James?” His voice was clearer now, confused. “What—oh fuck.”