With a low sigh, he does.
Another pause on my part, and I’m reminded of last night again. I’m used to Brayden doing what he wants, whenever he wants. Him actually acquiescing to a request of mine is utterly new to me.
I blink up at him, taken aback.
He glowers at me.
I wonder . . . biting the corner of my lip, I decide to give it a shot. “You can go now.”
“You’re pushing it, baby,” he says, eyes on my mouth.
Fuck me. I swallow hard. “I want you to leave.”
“I already gave you that last night. Today? I’m sticking around. For a little while, at least.”
So much for acquiescence. “Brayden, I can’t afford to argue with you about this with my friends around.”
“Then don’t.”
I resist the urge to jam one of the hangers into his eye. Regardless of my feelings toward him, it really is a very pretty eye. “What can I say to get you to leave me alone?”
Brayden gives me a sheepish smile and shrugs. “Absolutely nothing. Short of forgiving me and admitting you’re mine, of course.”
“I’d be lying if I said any of that.” I stomp out of the stall. I’m almost at the entrance to the dressing rooms when it occurs to me. “You can’t exit at the same time as I do. What if my friends see you?” There’s no plausible way to explain why my stepbrother is in the dressing room with me.
I won’t lie; I’m also hoping to use the opportunity to lose him.
“I’ll wait, but don’t think I won’t find you if you try to run out of here.”
Turning, I glare at him.
He lifts an eyebrow. “I know you. No running, baby.”
“Damn you. Stop calling me baby!”
The other eyebrow joins the first. He stares at me as if he knows why it drives me crazy when he calls me that, what it does to me.
He makes me feel powerless. Like I have no choice in this attraction, and I hate him for it.
But I have no plans of ever fucking him, not any more, and fucking him was the only thing I would’ve risked discovery for.
That and being his girl.
A discarded, stupid dream.
I will not face an entire town’s censure for nothing more than an inconvenient distraction and a few moments of lapsed judgement. That means I somehow have to convince this stubborn fuck to behave so that no one suspects what’s going on between us.
Which also means I’m stuck with him until I can persuade him to leave.
“You’re a ruthless bastard,” I grumble.
“Only when it comes to the woman I love.”
My brittle heart threatens to crack. “Whatever. Just wait here until it’s safe to leave.” I hightail it out of the dressing room, looking left and right like a guilty bitch.
Which I am. A guilty bitch who had just been entertaining the idea of letting her stepbrother eat her out inside that dressing room.
Ashley spots me from the line and calls me over.
Schooling my facial expression, I join the girls in the line.
“Did everything fit?” Ashley asks me.
I nod. A nonverbal lie.
Great. Looks like I’m buying the bra Brayden picked out for me.
“Where’s that hot piece of man meat you have for a stepbrother?” Jenna looks around, clearly trying to spot Brayden.
Unwarranted rage ignites in me. “You do realize he’s the biggest whore in town, right? And, hopefully, he broke his leg somewhere and won’t be joining us.”
Marilyn smiles. “You guys seem to act like you’re really brother and sister. It’s adorable.”
This horrifies me. More than it should. I don’t want to be seen as a girl interested in Brayden; the thought of us coming across as brother and sister makes me downright sick.
I’m such a mess.
A warm, muscular arm drapes over my shoulders. I know who it is without looking.
“Kira only pretends to hate me,” Brayden says. I can hear the smile in his voice.
“This is a filthy lie.” I elbow him in the side. He, of course, doesn’t let me go. “I despise you, and you know it.”
“Kira’s full of it. She loves me.” He smiles at my friends.
They melt in unison.
I hate them all.
Especially Brayden for that lie he just said. It’s impossible. Who would be foolish enough to love someone who has hurt them so much?
One of the girls at the register calls next. I rush forward, out of his hold, and hand her my items.
Brayden stops next to me and hands her his card.
What the hell?
Is he stupid?
I open my mouth to protest.
His eyes flicker in my direction. “Fight me over this baby, and I’ll kiss you. Right here, in front of everyone.”
I believe him. I really do.
And I’m absolutely disgusted with myself because I’m getting wetter with each “baby” he throws my way. “You wouldn’t,” I whisper, calling his bluff.
He licks his bottom lip. “Try me.”
The self-disgust expands at the impulse I have to try him. Definitely no doubt that he means it. For some reason, he’s become even more amoral than before. When it comes to me, a part of him really doesn’t care what everyone would think of him. He doesn’t care if they judge him for wanting his stepsister.