Free The Stepbrother Bargain (Book 1) by Chloe Hawk Page A

  She
was even hotter up close – all tan legs and long limbs, her wavy dark
blond hair tangled and falling halfway down her back.
    She was arguing with the clerk.
    “Can you run it again?” she asked.   “I know I have money in there.”
    “I ran it twice,” the cashier said.   She was an older woman with a bored
expression on her face, and she handed a debit card back to the girl.
    “Maybe I put my pin in wrong,” the girl
said.   “What does it say on the
screen?”   She stood on her tiptoes
and leaned over the counter to get a look at the register.
    My cock twitched in my pants as she bent
over.   I thought about pulling
those little shorts off of her, sliding into her from behind.   She’d push her pussy into me and I’d
hold her tight, not letting her move until I was buried deep inside of her of
hole.  
    I wondered if she was a moaner.   I loved when chicks groaned and wiggled
all around.
    “It says ‘insufficient funds’,” the woman
running the register said.   “Now,
I’m sorry, miss, but you’re going to have to figure out a way to pay for the
gas.   And if you can’t, then I’m
going to have to call the police.”
    I sensed my opening.
    “I don’t mean to butt in,” I lied, moving
so that I was standing next to the blonde.   I looked down at the debit card in her hand, getting an
eyeful of creamy tan cleavage in the process.   “But if you need money, I’d be happy to take care of it.”
    I took my credit card out of my wallet
and slid it through the reader, turning to look at the girl as the register accepted
the payment and started printing out the receipt.
    “I’m Cage,” I said, holding my hand
out.   But she didn’t take it.   Instead, she frowned.  
    Then she lifted her sunglasses off her
eyes, pushing them up and over her head so that her hair was pushed back from
her face.
    “Cage?” she repeated incredulously.
    “Oh, shit,” I breathed.
    It wasn’t some hot blonde.
    It was my stepsister.

 
    GRACE

 
    I stared at him for a long moment, not
even sure what to say.   Rage and
humiliation pulsed through my veins – how could he not even recognize
me?   Yes, he hadn’t seen me in
three years.   But had I really been
that insignificant to him?   Had I
really been that invisible?
    I’d always known I wasn’t on his
radar.   But we’d grown up in the
same house.   We’d lived together
ever since we were twelve.   You
would have thought he’d at least recognize me.
    I watched the shock overtake his face as
it finally dawned on him that it was me .
    But it was only for a split second.   Only for a split second did I get to relish
the fact that I’d finally made him uncomfortable, had finally gotten one over
on him, even if it was in some small way.
    But then his normal smug, cocky look
returned to his face, and I had to resist the urge to smack him.
    That look was so familiar to me.   It was the look I’d seen him use to get
out of trouble at school, with his mom, with my dad…
it was infuriating.   I’ll bet he
even used it now, when he was negotiating some big deal at work.   The female executives probably fell all
over themselves to give him whatever he wanted.
    I hated that look.
    I hated him.
    And in that moment, I even hated myself.
    Because deep down, rooted underneath a layer of annoyance, was attraction.
    He was still just as sexy and gorgeous as
I remembered him.   In fact, he
might have been even sexier.   He’d
always been built, but now his shoulders were broader, his face more
chiseled.   His navy blue sweater
was crisp and polished, his khaki pants perfectly creased.
    He wore sneakers, white and shiny, the
way shoes could only look when you first took them out of the box.   He was freshly-shaven, his skin smooth
and tan – not the kind of tan you got from sitting out in the sun, but
the kind that was natural.  
    His lips were gorgeous and full, his jaw line
strong and defined.   He towered
over me at six-foot-two.