Also regretful. I can see it clearly on his face. He hates being away from me. And he hates that he’s the reason I’m being dragged in the media, Snow too. He hates there’s a legal case happening and it’s for the violation of my privacy. I don’t know how to fix that, his guilt, or convince him that while it is scary to be on the internet, I’m more worried about him and the impact it may have on his career and our family.
In any case, since I can’t erase his guilt, I can distract from it. Iamthe distraction, after all.
“You know what,” I begin, raising my eyebrows, “you should change my name on your phone. Like put in a code name or something.”
He stares at me a beat, possibly coming to the same conclusion, that distraction is good. Although, only in moderation. Anyway, his features soften, and he asks, “Yeah, what code name?”
I twirl a strand of my hair. “Something that only you’ll understand.”
“Do you have a code name for me?”
And I freeze and of course, blush. Stupid redhead skin. I did not think that through.
Before I can recover and say something, he goes, “So you do, huh?”
“No,” I tell him, sitting up straight on the bed.
He tsks. “Lying’s a bad habit, Little Strawberry.”
I clench my thighs at the nickname. “I’m not lying.”
Smirking, he reminds me, “I’m your mind reader, remember?”
I narrow my eyes at him. “I hate you.”
He chuckles, his pecs twitching. “You wish.”
“You—"
“Tell me what it is.”
I stare at him for a few beats. Then, “Promise you won’t laugh.”
His smirk is still in place as he makes a cross over his left pec with his finger before whispering, “Hope to die.”
I bite my lip really hard because that was sexy. God, everything about him is just so sexy and I don’t know how long I can take this. I know he’ll be back soon, but thatsoonwon’t be happening forweeks.
Exhaling sharply, I say, “Well, it keeps changing, but this week it’s… Ugh, My Toxic-Haven’t-Tasted-Him-Yet-Stepbrother.”
Yikes. I can’t believe I said that or even typed it on my phone. But the other night, we were talking and one thing led to another, and we started playing with ourselves. Which basically means he dirty-talked me to horniness and I couldn’t stop myself from sticking my hand down my panties. So of course, he brought his big cock out—which I still haven’t tasted yet—and started jerking off, and when he came, he came so much that his cum flew everywhere, including the screen and the camera. And Jesus, that was so hot, I had to change his name on my phone.
“So maybe,” he goes, his voice a deep rumble, “I should put in My Sweet-Tastes-So-Fucking-Good-Stepsister.”
I gasp. “You’re laughing. You promised. You?—”
“I miss you,” he says and steals my words.
“What?”
He clenches his jaw, no signs of humor anywhere on his face. “Let me out of your promise.”
I fist the sheets and move restlessly. “No.”
“Let me the fuck out, Jupiter,” he commands.
And since he’s using my actual name, I know he’s serious. Well, I can see how serious he is. How strained and tense, like an animal shut inside a cage. Not only because of the physical signs but the actual fact that he said he misses me. When has he eversaid that? When has he ever told me about his feelings without me forcing him to talk?
So it literally makes my tummy hurt to say, “But Shepard, you have to focus. You?—”
