Playboy - A Stepbrother Romance

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Authors: Caitlin Daire
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screwed him only an hour or so after he’d been inside me…while I’d still been asleep in his bedroom. I hated him for making me feel so expendable, and I hated the things he’d said about me. How could he say I was crappy and boring? It had been my first time, and he’d known that. What had he honestly expected; for me to screw like a porn star?
    I hated him even more for coming back to bed and falling asleep next to me after screwing another girl in the bathroom without a friggin’ condom. How disgusting could be possibly be? At least he’d used protection with me. Who knew what kind of diseases he had? Yet another thing I hadn’t considered in my epically idiotic decision to lose my virginity to him…
    After I’d finally summoned up the courage to get back up off the floor, I’d gone back into his room, grabbed a pink lipstick out of my bag and left him a not-so-nice message on his mirror. I now knew he was the most disgusting, arrogant guy in New York, and I’d wanted to kill him, but all I’d written was ‘PRICK’ rather than the lengthy death threat I would have preferred, seeing as that would’ve taken too long.
    Then I’d finally left, tears still stinging my eyes.
    I guess I was grateful for one thing. Despite all our talking that night, I hadn’t told him where I went to college, and I hadn’t given him my last name or my number, so he had no way of tracking me down after that night for another booty call. At the time, I’d assumed that I’d give him my number the next morning when he took me home.
    Thank god for small miracles, huh?
    So yeah, now you see…I wasn’t just a bitch to him for no reason. I had a very good reason to dislike him, and I sure as hell didn’t want to be stuck working with him on my internship for the next few months.
    The man next to me stepped out of the elevator on his floor, and I was all alone for a moment. I took a deep breath, and the door pinged twenty seconds later as it arrived on the top floor. It opened right into the foyer of Cam’s apartment as long as a special pass-card was swiped in a slot under the buttons; a detail I remembered from the night of the party. Pierce had couriered one of those keycards to me this morning.
    “Cam?” I called out as I stepped into the open-plan lounge room. Ugh, what was that smell?
    I looked over to the coffee table to see three pizza boxes and several empty beer cans sitting there. I guess they’d been there for a while, because that seemed to be where the most pungent smell was coming from.
    Clothes, shoes and socks littered the floor as well, and I called out again. “Cam? Where are you?”
    He appeared a second later, clad in boxer shorts only, and I almost drooled despite how much I despised him. Try to breathe , I told myself. Ignore the abs and biceps…and the tattoos. Just breathe.
    “Hey, sis,” he said with a wink. “I see the doorman let you up with no issues. I guess now you know you don’t look like a criminal.”
    “Put some clothes on, please,” I said, my voice stiff as I ignored his wiseass remark.
    “Don’t pretend you don’t like what you see.”
    I waved my hand at the room beyond us. “I really don’t like what I see. This place is filthy. Do you ever clean?”
    He shrugged. “Sometimes.”
    “I would’ve thought a rich brat like you would have a housekeeper.”
    “Rich brat, huh? Nice of you. Anyway, not all of us are totally dependent on staff,” he said.
    I gestured towards a dirty white sock on the floor beside me. “You sure about that?”
    “Oh, get over it. I’ll clean up later.”
    I gingerly moved an old Thai takeout container from the kitchen counter and then put my bag down before perching up on a barstool which sat near it.
    “I guess we better get started,” I said. “Unless I’ve interrupted you sleeping with the entire Victoria’s Secret catalog lineup.”
    He rolled his eyes. “No, I’m here alone.”
    “That must be a first,” I shot

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