Mated To My Obsessive Stepbrother novel Chapter 48

KASMINE.

The scent of garlic and butter filled my nostrils, the soft hus of a movie filling the quiet room as I twirled a forkful of spaghetti around my fingers. The fairy lights above us cast a golden glow over Jake’s face, highlighting the quiet adoration in his eyes every time he looked at me. And he looked at me a lot. Like I was the only thing in the world that mattered.

I tried to focus on the movie. Some sappy romance Claire hd gushed about weeks ago, where the leads were caught in an angsty, slow–bun love that made my chest for tight.

I shouldn’t have agreed to this movie.

Because all it did was remind me of another setting. Another room. Another man..

Kester.

I had beercurled up on the couch in his living room, flipping through movie options, when he had grabbed the remote from my hand and chosen a film I never would’ve expected him to watch. A romance.

We had watched in an uncomfortable silence until that cursed scene where the male lead pressed the heroine against the bed and fucked her. I felt Kester shift beside me.)

I turned my head just enough to catch the way his chest rose and fell. The way his fingers flexed against his thigh. The way his eyes darkened, heat simmering behind them as if he had been picturing something else.

Something involving me. Before I felt the hard outline of his erection poking my ankle….

I took a slow breath.

No.

Tonight wasn’t for Kester. It wasn’t about him in any way.

Tonight was for Jake.

So, I forced myself to look at him.

To really look at him.

His dark eyes were already on me as if he had been waiting for me to meet his gaze. He had that soft, patient smile

-the kind that made my heart squeeze for all the right and wrong reasons.

I let myself take in the way his dark hair fell messily over his forehead, and his jaw clenched just slightly. whenever I caught him staring at me for too long as if he was fighting the urge to say something he wasn’t sure I was ready to hear.

I set my fork down, smoothing my hands over the soft fabric of my dress–Kester’s dress. Guilt pricked at me, but I shoved it down. Jake didn’t deserve my half–hearted attention. He didn’t deserve to be a second thought.

So, I did something I hadn’t done in a long time. I leaned in resting my chin in my palm, and let a small, genuine smile tug at my lips. “You keep looking at me like that,” I teased, tilting my head, “starting to think you have something to say to me.”

Jake let out a breathless chuckle, his fingers playing with a strand of my hair. “What if I do?”

The atmosphere between us shifted, something heavier settling in the space where easy conversation used to be.

I should have laughed it off. I should have made a joke and steered us back to safe waters.

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Chapter 48

But I didn’t. I swallowed, my throat suddenly dry. “Jake…”

His fingers shifted from my hair to the side of my cheek, caressing gently as he looked into my eyes in a way that made my heart melt.

His thumb stroked my cheek, his touch featherlight, as if afraid I might pull away. I couldn’t breathe. Not with the way he was looking at me.

I let myself drown in the warmth of his touch, in the

quiet longing in his dark eyes.

Then, slowly, as if giving me time to stop him, Jake leaned in. His lips brushed against mine, soft and unhurried.

It felt like a gentle question.

And for once, I didn’t hesitate. I answered him.

I kissed him back.

His hands cupped my face, tilting my head slightly as he deepened the kiss, his lips molding against mine in slow, sensual strokes. His fingers curled into my hair, his grip tightening just slightly like he didn’t want

Gods.

let me go.

Jake kissed like he had all the time in the world. Like this moment–this kiss–was something to savor. Something to etch into his memory.

And I let him.

There was no urgency. No roughness.

Just warmth

Just a slow, consuming pull that made me forget every reason I had to hold back.

I let my hands drift up, fingers threading through the dark strands of his hair, nails scraping lightly against his scalp. He groaned softly against my lips, his body pressing closer, his warmth seeping into me, making my head spin.

The way he sighed into my mouth. The way his body pressed against mine. The way his fingers traced the line of my jaw, down the slope of my neck, before settling on my waist, pulling me closer.

He shifted, guiding me with him until my back met the soft blanket beneath us.

The large window opposite us was cracked open, letting in the cool night air, the curtains swaying slightly.

It felt too intimate. Too dangerously perfect.

But I didn’t stop him.

Not when he hovered over me, his lips trailing slow, reverent kisses along my jaw.

Not when his hand slid beneath the hem of my dress–Kester’s dress–pushing it up, gathering the fabric at my hips, and exposing my thighs to the cool air.

Not when his fingers traced slow, lazy circles around the sensitive skin there, exploring with a tenderness that made my chest tighten and sent shivers dancing up my spine.

But the moment his touch drifted higher–toward the place no one but ‘him‘ had ever touched–my body tensed.

“Jake.” My voice came out breathless, shaky.

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His hand stilled immediately. He lifted his head, eyes searching mine. “Too mu

1 swallowed hard, nodding “I can’t. Not tonight.”

Jake exhaled, his fingers retreating as he pressed a soft, lingering kiss to my forehead. “Okay.”

“You don’t have to, Mine. I’ll be fine.” He said, always too modest, as usual.

“I insist,” I said, standing up from the blanket and guiding him to stand before me while I knelt, slowly pulling down his sweatpants.

The cool air from the half–open window slapped my face, making me feel strengthened and refreshed as whatever heat Jake had aroused in me dissipated. My gaze darted outside the window, and a sudden chill spread across my skin, almost as if I was being watched by someone. But there was no one there.

“Never been touched before?” I asked him in a teasing tone.

It was almost endearing to see how different he was from Kester.

I sucked. Slowly. Passionately. Intentionally. I enjoyed every bit of his innocent reaction. I liked the fact that I could unravel him and make him shake the way he was.

I glanced up at him, drinking in the sight of him above me his dark hair falling into his face, his lips parted, his eyes hooded with total surrender.

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“Fuck, Mine,” he breathed in a strained voice. His fingers twitched at his sides, his self–control crumbling You’re Gods, you’re perfect.”