Total pages in book: 31
Estimated words: 28319 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 142(@200wpm)___ 113(@250wpm)___ 94(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 28319 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 142(@200wpm)___ 113(@250wpm)___ 94(@300wpm)
While everyone else was excited to get up early to open presents, I didn’t have much to look forward to. I’d been lucky with my foster home placement, but Christmas morning had lost much of its meaning after my dad went to prison. The Davidsons were nice enough to me, but they didn’t exactly go all out on holidays. At least not for me. Their son was a different story.
Bryan was a twenty-four-year-old senior in college, but they still treated him like a little kid. Patti drove four hours twice a month to do his laundry and restock his fridge and freezer with home-cooked food. She kept a calendar of his assignments and reminded him when everything was due, even helping to finish the ones he didn’t bother doing. Not that I blamed her that much when her son was in his sixth year of college with his parents paying the entire way. She had to be chomping at the bit for him to finally graduate.
Since they had a whole lot more to look forward to than I did, everyone was already seated at the kitchen table when I made it downstairs.
Bryan scooted out the chair next to him. “Merry Christmas, birthday girl.”
I’d always gotten a weird vibe from him, but at least he’d already moved to college before his parents took me in. He’d been in an off-campus apartment since his sophomore year, so he didn’t come home for summers. This meant that I usually only had to put up with him during holidays, thank goodness.
“Umm, thanks.”
Patti’s brows drew together as her gaze darted between her son and me. She shot her husband a worried look, but he just shrugged. My foster father wasn’t much of a talker, but I liked that about him.
After we finished breakfast, I did the dishes while Bryan started opening his presents. He still had a huge stack to go through when I wandered into the living room. Instead of reaching for one of his, though, he handed me a package from under the tree. “Here, this one’s for you, Blakely.”
In all of the holidays I had spent with his family, Bryan had never gone out of his way to make me feel included, so I found it odd that he was being so nice to me today. I felt uncomfortable as I reached out to grab the wrapped gift, muttering, “Thanks.”
His gaze drifted toward my chest as he murmured, “You’re welcome.”
I padded across the room to sit as far away from him as I could while I opened my present, a pair of pajamas. Patti didn’t give him the chance to hand me the other two gifts she and Scott had gotten for me, which I appreciated because I didn’t want her son anywhere near me.
Unfortunately, my luck ran out later in the afternoon when Bryan stepped into my bedroom, where I’d been hiding out ever since we finished eating lunch. Swinging my legs over the edge of my bed, I asked, “What’re you doing?”
“Making my move.” His gaze slid down to my boobs, and he licked his lips. “Been waiting a long time for you to finally be legal.”
Gulping down the lump in my throat as I crossed my arms over my chest, I shook my head. “I don’t understand.”
“Pretend as much as you want, but I’ve seen the hot looks you’ve given me every time I came home.” He shut the door behind him and flipped the lock on the knob, totally freaking me out. “Now that you’re eighteen, I can finally give you what you’ve been asking for all this time.”
Shaking my head, I hopped to my feet. “I don’t know what you’re talking about, Bryan. I swear, I’ve never looked at you as anything other than the son of my foster parents.”
“Kinky.” He wagged his brows. “If you wanna call me your brother while I’m pounding you into the mattress, that works for me.”
My stomach churned, and I made a gagging noise. “That’s never going to happen.”
“Wrong,” he growled, prowling toward me. “You’re what I want for Christmas, and we both know that I always get what I want.”
“You can’t just—”
My words were swallowed by a gasp when Bryan wrapped his fingers around my wrist in a grip tight enough to leave a bruise and yanked me off balance. I stumbled into his body and pushed my palms against his chest, making him back up a few steps. Then I jerked back, trying to pull away from his hold. I cried out when he wrenched my arm toward him. “Stop!”
Patti pounded on the door and yelled, “Why is this locked? What’s happening in there?”
“You better let go,” I warned. “I might be eighteen now, but that doesn’t make what you were about to do legal.”
“Open this door right this minute or else,” Patti threatened from the hallway.