Free Flirt: Bad Boy Romance by Ashley Hall Page A

headway with Adam. Heck, maybe I should just ask Adam out and be done with it. But Dad would find out, and he’d freak. Men were supposed to make the first move. And I wanted Wes to make the first move. No, not Wes! Adam!
     
    Why couldn’t I stop being so obsessed with him? Why couldn’t I forget how I felt when he pressed up against me? I almost thought he might have gotten hard. I didn’t think Wes wore a belt, and I knew I felt something hard pressing against my butt.
     
    When it came to guys and sex, I was a little inexperienced. Maybe that was why I couldn’t stop thinking about Wes. Because he made me think about something hot and forbidden…doubly forbidden because sex with my step-brother was even more illicit than sex with Adam.
     
    Honestly, I shouldn’t be thinking about sex with either of them.
     
    After I waxed every wooden floor in the house, I started to do some laundry, still needing a distraction form my thoughts, only I found myself wondering if Wes wore boxers or briefs.
     
    Hopeless. I was hopeless.
     
     
     
    ***
     
     
     
    By the time dinner rolled around, Wes still wasn’t home. If Dad hadn’t realized before that Wes had disobeyed his rule to come straight home after school, he did now. He kept shooting glances my way, as if he wanted to ask me something. It took me halfway through the tense meal—so tense that even P and P seemed to realize it, and they kept their antagonizing down to a minimum—before I figured out what Dad was thinking: that I should’ve driven him home. Because Dad didn’t know about the motorbike.
     
    Well, I wasn’t my brother’s , or rather my step-brother’s, keeper.
     
    Thankfully, Dad didn’t ask me about him, and after I was excused, I studied and completed homework until I heard the same soft, strange sound I heard yesterday. I glanced out the window to see Wes driving up and hiding his bike. Before I knew what I was doing, I dropped my notebook and pen and opened my bedroom door.
     
    From my vantage point at the top of the stairs, I watched Wes stroll in through the front door as if he hadn’t a care in the world. Then my dad came into view, his arms crossed. Wes’ll start caring now.
     
    “Do you know what time it is, Wesley?” My dad’s voice boomed, echoing. His voice carried so well it sounded like he was standing next to me.
     
    I really hoped he didn’t look my way. He hated when people eavesdropped, but I had no plans on going back to my room, not just yet. I wanted to see how this would all turn out.
     
    “It’s late,” Dad continued. “You missed dinner. The kitchen is closed, so I hope you aren’t hungry.”
     
    “I’m not,” Wes said coolly.
     
    I winced. He’d learn soon enough that you didn’t back talk in this house. Aggravating Dad was never a good idea.
     
    “Disobedience won’t be tolerated in my home.” Dad’s voice sounded level and even, but I could hear the undercurrent of anger there. “Do you understand? This is my home. While you’re staying here—”
     
    I winced again. Staying here sounded so temporary. After all the foster homes Wes bounced around from, that had to be an intentional slight. Don’t interrupt him. Don’t talk back.
     
    Wes was staring at the floor, and it looked like he wasn’t even listening. Better than talking back, but it would be even better if he were looking Dad in the eye.
     
    “You will obey my rules,” Dad barked. “All of them. Without fail. Do you understand?”
     
    Dad never talked to me in such a harsh tone, and his lashing out seemed a little over the top. Wes was eighteen. He was his own person. He wasn’t going to think of Walter as his step-dad, especially if all Dad did was yell at him and critique him and nitpick over every little thing. They were going to clash and clash and clash.
     
    Unless my dad kicked him out before Wes was supposed to leave. Or maybe Wes wouldn’t accept his demands and would leave early. What would Wes do then? I hated