FORBIDDEN FEELINGS AND THE WEIRD INDEFERRENT HALF BROTHER

I break the eye contact before I get lost in his for good. I also realize that my legs are decussated, perhaps to stamp down that irritating throb between my legs. I don’t understand why my cheeks are burning with rosiness even after breaking eye contact.

Him? He should not get me this hot, for goodness sake! I mean, Joe?

“What are you not used to that is getting you to blush like a sweet sixteen, huh? Seeing a hot guy like me, or you being called gorgeous?” He asks as he fiddles with his trimmed field hockey beard.

He is as annoying as ever. But in a way, I hate to admit that he is right. I mean, this is him, my stepbrother, the ever-annoying one. Why am I aroused by him? Am I even normal? What sort of abominable affection is this? I should have jumped right on his ass as soon as I saw him, cursing him for making me leave my busy schedule and come all the way here, yet here I am, ogling him as if he were a piece of meat that I could devour in a minute. What the fuck?

Sweet sixteen, my foot! I am a twenty-eight-year-old adult who is crying out loud, and I need to get a grip on this forbidden feeling!

“I have no time for your silly jokes! Get your ass moving to the car before I change my mind and leave you here.” I say that and turn to leave while still battling with my emotions.

Even my heart is throbbing differently for the first time in my twenty-eight years. It never thumbed like this, even for Leon. Some kind of evil power ought to have possessed me, Sha! This is not happening. I mean, how on freaking earth?

“Wait!”

Everything stops—my heart skips several beats, I forget to breathe, and all the hairs on my body stand on alert as he grabs my hand from behind. Holy Gracious Mary, explain to me what kind of spell I am under. Slowly and gently, he turns me around, and we lock eyes.

“Not even a welcome hug for a brother that you haven't seen in ten years?” He asks, opening his arms wide to welcome me. “Come on!” He adds that it will take me forever to decide.

I drag myself and fall into his arms, and again, a wave of conflicting sentiments spanks me. I don’t know whether it is his scent, his homey chest, or his strong arms and the way they are tightly but gently embracing me into him. I just can’t tell what is arousing me like this, and I hate it. No. I actually, weirdly, love it here, in his embrace. It feels like the sweetest and safest haven there could ever be in this world. Someone tell me I am in a dream!

“I missed you!” The way his voice tickles me is also different, weakening my bones and arousing more sparks all over my body that are already burning.

I nudge him away mildly to cut this forbidden hug and everything in between what I am feeling. I feel like I am floating in a quagmire of hate, pleasure, and thrill. I honestly can’t explain what I am feeling or why.

“The traffic jam is pretty bad. We better get going.” I say as I turn around, avoiding his eyes like a bullet.

“That is even better.” He says, stopping me again and making a turn to him.

That is better. He never misses a chance to annoy me, does he? Does he know just how much I detest driving and dealing with stupid traffic jams? Well, what does he remember about me? And even if he did, what the fuck does he care? His third leg must be twitching with the glee of anticipating my misery right now.

“Give me the key!” He adds, stretching his palm toward me.

“Why?” I ask in mental confusion.

He smirks. That damn smirk. What happened to him in Cuba? He seems the exact opposite of what I expected him to be—how I knew him before.

“I thought you maybe don't like being on the wheel for long. Your ass might be burning already. Plus, I can compensate for bringing you here against your will.” He asks.

Damn! Does he have to be so dirty-mouthed? What a jerk! I would have applauded him for guessing that right, but forget it.

I slam the damn key into his palm and walk to the car without even looking back. I was about to open the door, but a hand held the door before I did. I turn around, almost crashing into his face behind me.

A fleeting moment passes as we stare deep into our eyes. I don’t know if it is coincidental or if the devil intended it to be because he isn’t backing down. I can’t understand the look in his eyes either. It’s a dark look, bleeding a combo of things that don't ring a bell to me. Things that are melting me down are urging me to surrender to whatever they are luring me into.

This is freaking forbidden! None of this should be happening.

I take a long blink, and I lean back, creating some distance between us. The heat he is percolating is still burning me. Or is it the insidious fire in his eyes?

“What are you doing?” I whimper in a powerless voice.

“I'm trying to be a gentleman. And what is happening to you, sissy?” He hoarses, his bewitching eyes burning my face as I battle with all my efforts to avert it.

“Me?” I ask again, swallowing hard and hoping that he does not witness this forbidden arousal he is inflicting on me.

“Yes. Are you, in any way, lusting for me? When did you become this naughty, little sissy?” He asks with an annoying smug, delineating the side of my cheek and resting his hand on my neck.

I squint as more sparks arise. Something so paralyzing ran down my spine.

Screw this moron! What kind of witchcraft did he bring from wherever he came from, huh? How did I even know I was feeling this way?

I cannot allow this forbidden feeling. I have to fight it at all costs!

“You wish!” I say as I try to walk out, but he slams his other hand on the side of the car, caging me to him and leaning too close for my liking, feeding me his hot pheromones.

“Are you sure? Do you mean to say that I am not affecting you in any way? Are you sure your pants are not wet as we speak?” He speaks to my lips, almost bringing me to my knees.

This jerk knows perfectly what he is doing to me. He is enjoying playing with me. He is making fun of me, and I should be ashamed of myself for allowing myself to feel this way.

“Get the fuck off me, Joe Montana!” I squeal calmly to avoid arousing suspicions around us. That is, if we haven’t caused any already.

“What if I don’t, Belladine Montana?” He asks, his voice deeper than I had known it to be, his eyes drilling through mine as he licks his lower lip to see what only he and the devil know.

“I will smash your balls so hard and make sure no sperm will be left alive. That way, Joe Fredrick Montana, no annoying person like you will be brought to this world.” I state, and he laughs out so loud, irritating me more.

Should he seriously be laughing right now? I want to get him angry. I wanted to irritate his ass! Why am I the one feeling the anger, huh?

“Seriously? Can you really do that?”

He is bent on annoying the hell out of me. Why was my father such a jerk? Sigh!

“You want to try me?” I challenge.

He stares at me for a moment. From one corner of my face to the last one. I don’t even know what he thinks he is doing by caging me like this and ogling me this way. Maybe another way to annoy me.

“Get in!” He finally speaks, and I jump right into the car, discharging the breath I wasn't holding.

I settle in, and he plays the gentleman role and closes the door for me. As if he can ever be what he is pretending to be. Jerk!

He parks his belongings in the car and walks into the car, slamming behind the wheel roughly as if he has no mercy for my poor car.

“Be gentle to my baby, please, will you?!” I say this as I put on my safety belt.

“I don’t know how to be gentle. Can you teach me?”

The way he asks that, are we on the same page here?

“Just drive, jerk! I left a lot of important things hanging back in the office, and I need to get them all done by the end of this day, and I have some preparation to oversee for my wedding.” I state this when I fail to understand his expression.

“As you wish, B. But you will have to forget everything for today. You are all mine until I say otherwise.”

Huh? Excuse me! Is this guy sane? No, did he smoke something on the plane that got him high or something? What the heck is he talking about?

“What the hell do you mean?” I ask.

“We are going somewhere very important, then we proceed home for my welcome party.” He states.

He has been back for a few minutes now, and he is already controlling me like I am his puppet. Who does he think he is? Who told him that I give a fuck about his welcome or go-away freaking party?

“We have nowhere to go with you, Joe! I have a cake sampling, which I canceled because of you. I have messed up my schedule so much by coming to pick you up. Just don’t make plans for me. Both the wedding preparations and office work are driving me crazy. Don’t just add more to it.” I state.

“And him? What is he doing about this whole wedding sh*t?” He asks, burying his eyes into mine.

A wedding, what? How the heck dare he call my wedding a shit? And just why does he sound like he knows we are crashing with Leon about this wedding?

I furrow my brows, and he hunches his head down, perhaps after realizing that all that shit he just puked was absolutely unnecessary. He then lifts his head, boring his sinful eyes into mine. There is no remorse in them, but they portray these shades that I can't quite decipher. But it's not guilt. It's something else. "Sorry. We will just check something out real quick, and then you can go back to your schedule." He explains, and without caring whether I will agree to this madness or not, he steps on the gas pedal and pulls off like a beast after prey!

I hug my belt tight, hoping that we reach the unknown destination safe and sound because the way this beast is dodging cars on this busy road is terrifying!

20 minutes later, we pull up. I peel my eyes and discharge the breath I was holding. Cruising my eyes around, I realize we are at a certain Luxe hotel that seems to be in a secluded, if not deserted, area. The only thing that gives me hope that this weird beast has not kidnapped me to take revenge for all the horrible treatments I gave him is seeing cars around and people walking in and out of the seemingly luxurious hotel.

The door on my side opens. He is bent on playing a fake gentleman. All the same, I jump out, careful not to pump onto him. He is bleeding a strong and confusing aura that is terrorizing every bit of my feminine being. "What are we doing here?" I ask after clearing my dry throat myriad times.

He gives me a stare that draws me into more haze. He is acting so weird. I stare back, challenging his dominant eyes. "You might kill me after this, but you will thank me in the future."

I'm glad he finally broke the stare challenge, but why use riddles? Just what is he talking about? I shake my head to let him know that I don't understand. In response, he grabs my hand, not in a way that can be termed gentle, but nothing hurts either, and the sparks I am getting from this touch are dominating any form of roughness.

In a minute, we are standing before the counter lady, our hands still interlocked, his perplexing words hanging like a crowd in my head, and the oblivion of this mystery shaking me to the core.

I wait for him to speak, perhaps place an order or ask for a table, but all I get to read is another weird sign exchange between him and the lady. Whatever their gestures meant, I didn't have time to ask, as again, I am being pulled forward.

My heartbeat increases with every step we take and every stair we climb. My moves are fueled by the desire and fear of the unknown as I blindly march beside Joe. He seems well aware of what he is doing, and I am in utter darkness. I should ask more questions, but something so strong is crashing that idea, urging me to just wait and see.

Finally, our steps halt at a certain door. My heart skips several beats. A room? Why is this guy taking me into a room?

My uneven breathing, fused with the trembling, does not allow me to speak, so he does it for me. "I am sorry, but I had no choice, B."

More confusion!

"What do you mean?" I ask between heavy-lagged breathing.

He takes another step to the door, and he gives two signs that I don't understand: a tight squeeze on my hand and a gentle nod of the head, as if assuring me something, or better yet, warning me about something.

But what? Which is which?