Free Playboy - A Stepbrother Romance by Caitlin Daire

a playboy? In general, not just in regards to my career.”
    “Do I really have to spell it out for you?” I asked.
    “Yeah. I wanna hear it from you.”
    “Fine,” I replied, my cheeks growing warm again. “Guys like you—so-called players—you think life is just a game, and you don’t realize you’re hurting people with your actions. But your games are stupid, because I don’t think they make you interesting or desirable. It just makes me think you’re a waste of time and energy.”
    He grinned, even though I’d insulted him. “But life is a game. You can either be a player or a toy,” he replied. He leaned closer, his face only inches from mine. “And I don’t want to be a toy.”
    Goddammit. As much as I wanted to slap his smarmy face, part of me couldn’t help but want to be a toy. His toy…
    I pushed the thought aside. “That’s a load of crap. Now get the hell out of my face,” I said, a little too angrily. I was mostly angry at myself for actually being aroused by him.
    He drew back. “Fine. You know, I have no idea why you’ve got such a problem with me, but I’m sick of playing nice when all you do is throw it back in my face. It’s so childish. If we’re done with this work shit, then maybe you should go. I’ve got stuff to do.”
    He thought I was childish? At least I knew how to keep a damned house clean, unlike him. Asshole. I hopped off my barstool, and he followed suit.
    “Are you serious? You don’t know why I have a problem with you?” I said. “Oh, and by the way, you have a really funny way of ‘playing nice’.”
    His face darkened. “No, I really don’t know why you hate me, and honestly, I’m tired of second-guessing myself and wondering where the hell it all went wrong with you. I’ve spent the last eighteen months wishing I knew.”
    “Sure, sure. If you really don’t know, then you’re even dumber than you look,” I said, stuffing my things back into my bag. “Anyway, don’t worry—I’m leaving.”
    I turned to go, and he called out after me as I marched over to the elevator. “So you’re just gonna run away again, huh?”
    I whirled back around, glaring at him. “You’re the one who said I should leave!”
    “I changed my mind. I’m sick of wondering. Tell me what the fuck I did, and I promise I’ll never bring it up again. You owe me that much.”
    “I don’t owe you anything.”
    “Just fucking tell me, Anya,” he said, advancing towards me.
    I shrank backwards and almost crashed right into the elevator door. He grabbed hold of my waist to steady me, and a jolt of electricity shot through my system.
    “Tell me,” he said. “I need to know. You keep acting like I did something awful to you, but I swear…I have no idea what it is.”
    “You did do something awful,” I choked out, looking down at his arm around my waist. I couldn’t look into his eyes, or I might actually melt into a puddle on the floor. “If I tell you, will you honestly never bring it up again? I really don’t want to think about it anymore.”
    Even as I said it, I knew it was impossible. I’d always be thinking about it, no matter how hard I tried.
    Cam nodded. “I promise. Scout’s honor.”
    “You were never a scout,” I whispered, remembering the first conversation we’d ever had. It had almost gone the exact same way, with the mention of the scout stuff.
    He released his grip on my waist, and my legs trembled as he led me over to the sofa.
    “Shoot,” he said.
    I haltingly filled him in on everything; what I’d heard in the kitchen that night, how awful I’d felt for weeks afterwards, and how I’d regretted that night and wished it never happened. I even told him how I’d dated other guys since him, and none of those relationships had worked out because I’d still felt totally hung up on someone who’d treated me so awfully.
    “No one wants to be treated like an option, Cam,” I said, nearly finished with my confession. “And that’s what I was