Cockney: A Stepbrother Romance (23 page)

“Not at all, actually,” I say, smiling, “It’s nice to hear about my new family.”

Danny frowns for a second before suddenly the recognition hits his face, “Oh
blimey!
You’re
fuckin
Chloe
!” He suddenly takes a step back from me, “Well fuck me, huh?”

“
Excuse
me?” I narrow my eyes at him as I jerk my hand out his arm. 

He must see the look on my face because he stops laughing for a second and gives me a quick look, “Aww, no-no, luv, nothing like that. I just get it now.”

I frown, “Get what?”

“What that little shit’s problem is.”

“
Who?
”

Danny laughs, “Ollie!”

I shake my head. “I’m not sure I follow.
What’s
his problem?”

He grins and cocks a finger at me, “
You are
, luv.”

“Pardon?”

“Or you’re each other’s problem, rather, as I sense the case may be.”

My cheeks go bright red as I frown at him, “I- I don’t know what-”

“Oh stop it,” he says, pulling another cigarette out of his pack and sticking it his mouth, “Fuck, if you were my stepsister I’d want in your knickers too.”

My face goes positively magenta as I roll my eyes.

“Jesus, and here I am the dirty old man hitting on you.” He quickly flashes me an apologetic look, “
So
sorry, gorgeous. Won’t happen again, scout’s honor and all that.” He does a little salute, as he puffs on his cigarette and I have to laugh, which seems to release the sudden tension.

“He’s good, you know.” Danny nods at me, “Oliver that is. He’s good, and
Jolie
is a good place, but he could be
great
.” 

We stop in front of the tea shop and he glances at me, “Don’t suppose you still want to get that coffee after I acted like little scoundrel back there.”

I grin. “I’d love to.”

Danny laughs and flicks his smoke away as he reaches for the door, “Lovely, lovely. Besides, how old are you? Twenty-two?”

“Twenty-three.”

He winces dramatically and clutches at his heart, “
Oof
, see? Sorry, luv, but it’d never work out with us anyways. You’re
much
too old for me.”

I’m still hooting with laughter as we step into the tea shop.

A week later, and I’m hitting the wall. The games aren’t working, or if they are they aren’t working fast enough. Because this girl is driving me fucking
nuts
. She’s hot then cold, and for the last nine damn days, she’s been frosty and full of one word answers. 

At first, the “yes chef” thing was kind of awesome; it was like winning the power game. Except now, it’s just getting annoying. Now, I just want her to say my
name
. Fuck, I mean what I
actually
want is to hear her scream it, but I’d settle for a normal conversation at this point.  I’m tempted to fuck off on the whole thing. Honestly, I need to go fuck Chloe right out of my system. I need to fuck every single thing with tits in the restaurant until whatever brief dirty fling I had with my
stepsister
is out of my head. What am I, afraid of hurting her feelings or some shit? 

***** 

I’m checking in the meat delivery out back, sipping espresso with my clipboard in hand when she comes walking around the corner, giggling. 

With fucking
Marco
. 

Every muscle in my body tightens. Marco might be a mate, but I’m certainly not above burying him in a shallow fucking grave. 

“Marco!” I snap, jerking his attention from the opening at the top of Chloe’s blouse to me.

“Oy chef!” He grins, nodding at me as they come up in front of me, “Shit, mate, you catch that fuckin footy game last-“

“You’re late,” I snap.

Marco frowns, and then quickly nods, shifting right into work mode. 

Good man. 

“Sorry, chef.”

 I soften the sour look on my face, “Hey, do me a favor and get that stock going before you break down these shanks, yeah?”

“You got it, boss,” he nods. He shoots a quick look at Chloe before ducking inside. 

She rolls her eyes the second the backdoor to the kitchen shuts behind him. “Oh
what
is it?”

I scowl, “Nothing, I’m just curious what
that
whole things was.”

She sighs, “He saw me coming out of the tube, we got coffee on the way over.” 

I nod. “Huh, great.”

“Jesus, Oliver, are we going to play this game forever?”

“And what game is that, luv?”

“The game where we act like we’re children. The game where you don’t talk to me because I said
no
to you.”

I bark out a laugh, “Right, as if that’s what all this is.”

Of course it is
. 

“Look, I told you, it’s not…”

She trails off and I grin, “It’s not…what? ‘It’s not you, it’s me’?” I snort.

“Whatever, you know what I mean. We just can’t do this,” she whispers quietly.

“I don’t see why not.”

She shoots me a look, “
Seriously?
” She shakes her head, “Oliver, I told you, it’s not like I don’t want us to be friends-“

“
I
don’t.”

She stumbles. “Excuse me?”

And right then, something inside snaps. It’s like saying it cements all the roaring, rambling thoughts I’ve had inside my head for the past week; hell, since she stepped off that fucking plane. Whatever it is, it’s like a switch being flicked, and the rest of world drops away except for her and me, standing in the raining London afternoon.

And I know right then, I’m not letting another fucking second tick by without doing something about this.

I grab her by the arm and drag her as she gasps around the corner to the alley beside the restaurant. Instantly, I’m pushing her up against the brick wall behind her, my eyes wild as my gaze burns fire right into her eyes. 

“I
said
I DON’T,” I say gruffly, holding her by both her wrists against the wall. “I don’t want to be your
friend
, or your
buddy
, or your fucking
pal
, Chloe.”

And the second I say it, even
I’m
wondering what it means. What
do
I want to be with this girl? 

But she throws that look right back at me; that fiery, defiant look filled with heat and power, but also this sort of scared tenderness behind it that just
slays
me. And just for a second - just for the
briefest
second - her lip trembles just a hair, as if giving testament to that scared girl behind this defiant mask of sass and attitude.

And it’s my undoing.

My mouth crashes against hers,
hard.
I push my whole body against hers as I grab her head in my hands and kiss her with everything I have; everything single thing I’ve been holding back. I’m hungry for her as I sear my lips to hers, heedless of whatever consequences this may bring. 

And we’re frozen, just like that, for a single moment in time; a single second of just two people stopped in the flow of time. Just as we begin to unfreeze - just as the world is about to keep on spinning under our feet - I know she’s about to push me away, or slap me, or yell, or all three of the above, and that’ll be the end of it. After that, I’ll have my final verdict, and I’ll be done with this whole bloody thing.

Except, she doesn’t push me away, and she doesn’t slap me, or yell at me.

She fucking
moans
.

And it’s like unleashing the animal inside of me.

I growl into her kiss as we open our lips, tongues sliding against the other. Breaths come in halting gasps as we lose ourselves to each other. I’m pressing her up hard against the wall, and she’s rolling her hips against me, bringing her fucking knee up to my waists and hooking her leg around me as if to pull me even tighter against her. We break the kiss, gasping as we pull back for a second, eyes darting around the other’s and our breathing coming ragged before we go crashing right back into it.

I’m fucking
lost
in those lips; dropping out of all sense of time or space or any other fucking issue in the world. Because
nothing
else matters in that moment but those perfect, pouty lips pressed against my own.

“
Oliver,
” she gasps, pulling away for a second before pressing her lips back to mine, kissing me hungrily, “I- I-“

“I want you,” I growl, bringing my mouth to her neck and biting the skin there, hard. “I wanna bend you over right here, yank those pants down over that sweet ass, pull your panties to the side and bury my face in your pussy.”

She moans, her breath hitching and her hands clutching at my back as I rasp the words into her ears. I can feel her hips undulate against me. 

“And then I want to slide every single inch of my cock inside of you, and fuck you like you
need
to be fucked,” I hiss the words into her ear, my hand coming up cup her breast through her shirt. I run my thumb across a hard nipple I can feel right through the material. “And I’m not gonna stop until I hear you screaming my name.” 

She groans and cranes her neck to bite at my ear as she pulls me hard against her, “I want to know what your face looks like when you come on my cock, Chlo-“

“Oy, chef!” The backdoor opens with a bang, and it’s like lighting hitting us with crack as she suddenly jumps away from me at the sound of Marco’s voice.

“Chef?”

He can’t see us around the corner here in the alley way; not
yet.

I swear viciously under my breath, my eyes holding hers, “I-“

“
Go
,” she whispers quickly, biting her lip. There’s a teasing glimmer of a smile there, one that she’s trying to hide with that sexy little lip bite thing she does. But there’s no hiding the glow in her cheeks or the fire dancing across her eyes.

“Oy, Ollie, where the fuck did you run off to-“

“
What
, Jesus, mate,” I say quickly, stepping out from the alleyway and punching Marco in the arm. “You’re like a fuckin lost puppy or something.” He grins and I wrestle him into a headlock like we’re just two pals horsing around. 

Or, you know, like I’m averting his eyes from the backdoor so that Chloe can dart out from the alley, looking
exactly
like she’s just been making out with someone. Her eyes meet mine for a quick second, and I can see her chest rising and falling quickly as she bites her bottom lip softly between her teeth, before she turns and slips into the kitchen.

“Git,” Marco shoves me off, grinning as he flips me off. “Ian needs you to look at the new menu fonts or some shit.”

I roll my eyes, “Ah, right.”

“The glamorous life at the top, eh Chef?” Marco winks before ducking back inside, leaving me to finally let my breath out and wonder how in the
fuck
I’m going to get through this shift without dragging Chloe into my office and fucking her brains out in the middle of a dinner rush.