Forbidden Desires: Embraced By My Stepbrother

Forbidden Desires: Embraced By My Stepbrother

Ife Anyi · Ongoing · 142.0k Words

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Introduction

One look at the man sitting next to mom tells me everything I need to know.
He is Aaron's dad.
Mom is getting married to Aaron's dad.
I had a one night stand with Aaron Coleman seven years ago and in the heat of the moment, after I left the motel he'd fucked me in, I spent the following week writing a fictional story about us.
I'd entirely forgotten about that story until now. The story went ahead to become a New York bestseller the following year but nobody, besides Juliet, knows I'm the author.
Aaron Coleman is about to be my stepbrother. He's the protagonist of a romance book I'd written and dumped years ago.
And as I move slowly, towards the table to join the small party, I realize that the coming weeks is going to be worse than the past seven years of my life, combined.
SEVEN YEARS AGO
"It's almost like you're a virgin," Aaron blurts out in disbelief as he slowly tries to move.His remark makes me feel defensive so I don't know when I get heated and respond in a sharp voice. "What if I am?"
Aaron stiffens against me, his body hovering above mine.
"That's going to be a problem, cupcake," he says in an entirely different voice that tells me I'm in danger...

Chapter 1

  Eva's POV

  I stare deeply at the bubbles of my beer, zoning out despite the raucous atmosphere of the bar.

  It's the last week of college. We'd had our graduation ceremony yesterday and tonight, all the seniors are in Caleb's bar, partying away the last miserable four years of our lives.

  Whoever said college is going to be the best time of our lives only wanted money. They just said that to lure innocent teenagers, who will later become broke adults, to pay fees or take out loans to pay fees.

  Thankfully, with mother's past divorces, which I'm not proud of, I am not in any debts.

  For me, the last four years were just blank. I can't even remember any of my classes except for philosophy and literature which are my favorite subjects because I hope to become a writer some day.

  I already write on websites and have loyal fans but I want to be published and recognized widely.

  The thrill of signing autographs on a published book of mine is something I dream of all the time.

  "Don't tell me you're zoning out in a bar!" Juliet, my best friend, remarks disapprovingly in my ears, shouting against the loud music.

  I reel away from her, rubbing at my ears echoing with her voice.

  "Shit, Juliet!" I reproach, mildly annoyed.

  "What?" She giggles, seeming to be having fun. She pulls away the empty stool beside me and plops unto it.

  The waiter comes up to her like a robot, smiling briefly.

  "I will have a rum please," she bats her eyelashes at him and I roll my eyes. Juliet likes to get cute with men.

  I, on the other hand, have never seemed to be attracted to anyone. I mean, I have the occasional crushes here and there but then, a guy would speak and I'd realize that I'd just been delusional.

  That's why most of my classmates had boyfriends in college or highschool and I didn't.

  And yes, I'm also a virgin. I'm not proud of it but I'm also not ashamed of it. There's nothing wrong with having no penetrative sex at the ripe old age of twenty-three.

  Thank goodness for modern day alternatives. Archer, my trusty vibrator, is always capable.

  The waiter resurfaces with Juliet's rum in a perspiring glass and she thanks him calmly, with no eye lash batting or gleeful giggles.

  "So," she turns to me while sipping at her glass, "why are you being a brick? You should be out there," she gestures behind her to the dance floor, "meeting the hottie of your dreams. I thought you said you will finally pop the cherry tonight?"

  I wince at Juliet's archaic expression as a heavy sigh leaves me.

  Yes, I did say I'd use this opportunity of the get-together to finally let go but before I zoned out, I'd looked around the whole bar and realized that I didn't want to sleep with any guy here.

  There are three guys I've had a crush on before and while one of them has been shooting me furtive, suggestive glances all night, I cannot bring myself to go over to him and tell him point blank; "I'd like to be fucked so I can stop thinking about it."

  Juliet told me that guys are easy and they will happily oblige.

  "Maybe I don't have to be in a hurry, my vibrators and dildos will always be here," I say cheerfully.

  The two girls down the row of the bar turn to look at me and Juliet, wearing knowing smiles.

  One of them winks and the other hides her giggles with a hand.

  I think I may have shouted that a bit too loud over the music.

  "Eva," Juliet's face turns serious, "girl, listen. It has to happen this night, trust me. You know most of the people here. In the real world, there are a lot more assholes. College is where the least assholes are."

  My brows furrow in deep thought. I know she's right. I have had first row seats to the way my mom changes men every year.

  Just when you think he's going to be the one, he decides to show his true colors and then leave her. Mom doesn't marry all her dates though, she's only married five and unfortunately for her, they weren't any different from the others.

  But fortunately for me, I got to meet their children and we're still sort of friends even while our parents don't speak.

  "Okay," I breathe out in resignation.

  "I'll have to drink a lot though," I say to Juliet as I empty my beer in one gulp.

  "That's the spirit," she grins, giving me a gentle slap on my shoulder. Her eyes sparkle as she shouts, "oh!! That was a good pun."

  I shake my head at her.

  "Don't get too drunk though, you know how boys are," she shudders with a grimace.

  I chuckle lightly because coming from her? That means she's seen things.

  I order two glasses of whiskey to revive my motivation for the night.

  As I sip away, a grating voice reaches my ears, making me stiffen. My blood pumps fierce and hot in my veins as my eye twitches slightly, alerting me that the enemy is near.

  "Tangerine!" Aaron Coleman shouts his stupid nickname for me.

  Before he leans over my shoulders, I finish my second glass of whiskey, wiping my mouth forcefully and getting ready for battle.

  Aaron Coleman is the one guy in my life I'll never have the hots for. From middle school to high school and then to college, Aaron has been a constant thorn in my flesh.

  I thought it was all in my head when I was a kid but we grew up and I realized and painfully accepted that Aaron has always been out to get me

  If he isn't trying to steal grades that are rightfully mine, by being the best in classes I cherish, then he's making fun of me or twisting my name into something inane.

  When we arrived college years ago, it became Tangerine.

  Before that, it was Evanescence, Vaseline, Halloween or machine. It's never been Evangeline, which is my full name.

  Mom used to call me that a lot when I was a child and since Aaron was always tormenting me after school when mom used to pick me up, he overheard it and decided to twist it.

  To everyone else, I'm Eva.

  To my mom, I'm Angel on some days.

  To Aaron, I'm anything but Eva or Evangeline.

  My eyes sparking with unbridled irritation and dislike for Aaron, I spin the stool to face him, shooting him a glare.

  "Tangerine, you don't want to see me?" Aaron gasps mockingly, dramatically lifting a hand to his chest as if he's been wounded.

  What I hate about Aaron is that despite everything, he's handsome. I could say he's one of the best good looking guys in our senior year.

  We did different majors but had a few classes together. Girls always stared at him. Some boys as well. And it wasn't any different in high school.

  Wherever he goes, he's the star of the show.

  That shiny blond hair of his that he manages to groom so well is currently styled in a way that some strands covering his forehead, giving him that eternal boyish look he possesses.

  His straight nose is perfect and his full lips, pink and looking soft.

  He takes all the attention wherever he goes and you can't be mad at him. He handles it so well, despite being a rogue and an asshole.

  Another thing I hate about him is that Aaron had been my third kiss. It happened one drunken night.

  Heat rises to my cheeks as I reject my brain telling me that I liked it.

  I absolutely do not.

  "Go away, Aaron."

  "Aw, don't be like that," he ignores my harsh look and steps into my personal space, smelling all masculine and musky.

  "You two should totally fuck," Juliet suddenly says and I turn around to look at her, my eyes widening with disbelief.

  She chuckles innocently, shrugging and sipping from a bottle of beer I didn't realize she'd ordered.

  "What? You may not like each other but everyone knows there's undeniable chemistry between you two."

  I shoot her a glare. "I don't have anything for him!" I squeak.

  "I didn't say the chemistry was coming from you," she replies with a distant look in her eyes, taking a sly glance at Aaron.

  I turn to look at him and find him clenching his very hard and sharp jaw, his chest rising and falling with heavy breathes.

  "Who the fuck do you think you are to suggest I want anything to do with Tangerine?" Aaron seethes at Juliet.

  Something cold flutters in my chest, briefly stinging me and falling to my belly. It takes me a second to realize it's the feeling of being rejected.

  I know I usually say that I don't want anything to do with Coleman but hearing him outrightly reject me, with irritation and indignation in his voice no less, tells me everything I need to know.

  He may be a constant thorn in my flesh and is obsessed with tormenting me but it means he doesn't like me.

  I guess the little girl in me had believed that stupid saying that boys liked to bully girls they liked. Aaron was just a bully who was fascinated with seeing me angry.

  Bracing a smile that I hope doesn't reflect that he'd momentarily hurt and offended me with his comment, I say something that instantly comes into my mind.

  "Then let's fuck."

  Both Aaron and Juliet splutter at the same time, taken off guard.

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The image of her standing in the doorway, clutching her cardigan tighter around her narrow shoulders, trying to smile through the awkwardness, won’t leave me.

Neither does the memory of Tyler. Leaving her here without a second thought.

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