Step Wilde: A Stepbrother Romance (16 page)

My eyes traveled unbidden to the rest of his body. He wasn't wearing a shirt.

I felt my breath catch in my chest but I recovered quickly.
Breathe, Liv,
I thought to myself. But my eyes were back on his chiseled eight-pack abdomen. His tanned skin was glinting with sweat. And he had far more tattoos than he'd displayed in the last movie I'd watched him star in.

Or maybe the makeup team on that film had selectively covered up some of them; I couldn’t be sure. Thick, black ropes of ink twisted across his chest and down his arms. He had full sleeves of tattoos covering his rippling muscles.

I looked up and realized that Wilder was smiling at me. He'd caught me staring. I blushed, and then hit the screen four more times to bring up my pace. My legs were moving so quickly I thought the friction of my feet might start a fire.

My heart was pounding out of my chest, my breathing so heavy I felt like I might pass out. But I kept staring at his eyes and soon, my breathing found its place again.

I was running as fast as he was. I didn't think about the fact that he had clearly logged twenty times the hours in the gym as I had. I just kept running.

I was going to beat him, dammit, even if it meant being carried out of here on a gurney.

CHAPTER TWENTY-TWO

WILDER

She was trying to fucking kill me.

That was the only way to explain it. I had no idea how a woman with so many curves could possibly outrun me. She had zero visible muscles.

But she
was
outrunning me.

She was kicking my ass.

In my head, I heard the annoying voice of my trainer. "It's not all about muscle definition, Wilde. It's about endurance. You have to put in more cardio."

But cardio did not give a guy a six pack. And that's all I'd ever wanted.

When I'd achieved that, I moved on to adding bulk. I lifted weights at the expense of nearly everything else. I had figured I wasn't Tom Cruise; no director was going to require me to run much further than a few yards in an action sequence.

They hired me for my face and my body, not my agility and ability to run a mile. But now, this beautiful, sexy woman was going to kill me.
Me
. The most famous man on planet earth.

In a running contest.

I stared at her face, trying to determine if there were any signs of fatigue. But no, there weren't. She was sweaty, yes. She was breathing hard, yes. But I felt like my lungs had shrunk to the size of acorns.

My eyes fell down to her chest. Her tits were bouncing hard in her sports bra, and her tiny waist made me want to grab her and fuck her against the wall.

Focus
, I thought to myself. I never lost any competition. I was going to win.

Suddenly, a sharp pain gripped my side and I nearly fell back across the treadmill and onto the floor. I had to grab the railing and hold on so I wouldn’t be dragged to the ground. I pulled the emergency cord and the treadmill jerked to a stop.

"FUCK!" I yelled, standing up and panting. The desk clerk looked more amused than concerned.

I saw that Olivia was calmly turning down the speed on her treadmill to a nice, easy, cool-down pace.

"You alright there, Mr. Hollywood?" she called out to me.

"How...the fuck...are...you...able...to talk?" I spluttered out, feeling absolutely ridiculous.

I grabbed my towel and wiped down my face, still panting. Then I squirted half my water bottle over my head. Olivia calmly turned off her treadmill, grabbed her own towel, and walked over to me.

"I think you need to sit down," she said, putting her hand on my arm.

I felt my skin burn where she touched me. God, she was so close. And the smell of her musky sweat was like the best aphrodisiac in the world.

They could bottle that shit and make a billion fucking dollars. Easily.

"I think I might be dying," I said to her, still standing up. "Where the fuck did you learn to run like that?"

Olivia laughed. "Broke people like me only need shoe leather and a good road to get our workout done," she replied, putting her other arm around my waist and leading me over to a weights bench. "Here, this should be a familiar spot for you."

I looked up at her and realized she was making fun of me. "Fucking
ha ha
," I replied.

"Have you ever heard of cardio? You know weight lifting might make you pretty, but it's endurance that's the most important." Her eyes flashed.

Was she suggesting
...She raised an eyebrow at me.
Oh God.
I felt my heartbeat start up again, and a growing sensation in my pants.

"You're going to kill me, Liv," I said to her with a smile.

She laughed. It sounded like music.

She was so close. I could see every drop of sweat on her perfect stomach. I reached out without thinking and pulled her waist to my face, kissing her stomach. I felt drunk in her presence and high on endorphins.

She pushed me away and laughed. “Oh, I see. You think I’m not okay with
dinner
with an engaged man, but sex? Sure, anything goes.”

I heard a clearing of a throat and looked over. The desk attendant was busying himself with straightening the towels.

"Hey Gio!" I called out.

"Yes, Mr. Brando?" he asked without turning around.

"Can you give us a few moments?"

He nodded and replied, "I'll lock the door to give you some privacy."

After he left, I looked up at Olivia. She looked bemused.

"Sorry," she said, snorting out a laugh and covering her mouth with both of her hands. "
Mr. Brando?
Are you serious?" she was laughing so hard her breasts were jiggling. It was distracting.

"It's the name I use when I check into a hotel. So people can't find me," I said, feeling my ego bruising slightly.

"Jesus, you sure still think highly of yourself. People really don’t ever tell you no, do they?” She wiped her eyes from the tears of mirth that still lingered there. She took a step away from me. She seemed reluctant to move away from me.

I’d never wanted someone so badly in my entire life. But there she was, telling me no.

CHAPTER TWENTY-THREE

OLIVIA

I wanted to reach out to trace my fingertip along the black ink that was carved into his skin, but pulled back. If I started touching him with my hands, I wouldn’t ever be able to stop.

"You. Are
engaged
.”

“We aren’t, Liv. Not really.” Wilder reached out like he wanted to touch me again. “It’s not real. What Hailey and I have. Seriously. It’s for six months. For publicity for her next album. I fucking promise, Liv.”

I looked into his eyes. He seemed sincere. He was also still an actor; how could I trust him to be telling the truth. “Why would you agree to something like that?”

“Because I had to. She’s blackmailing me.” Wilder took a step back and slapped his palm on the wall behind me. “For the movie. This has to go well. I’ve got more than money riding on it. I’m sick of acting. I want to be more involved behind the scenes. Nobody’s going to take me seriously if this movie is shit. And Hailey…well you might have noticed that she suddenly improved overnight? Yeah. That was the blackmail.”

I let out a low whistle.

“Wow,” I said. “All for album publicity?”

Wilder nodded. “Nobody knows Hailey like I do. She has a singular focus: herself. Anything she wants, she gets.”

“And you’re enabling that,” I said quietly.

Wilder clenched his fist and closed his eyes, breathing out through his mouth. “I don’t have a choice here, Olivia.”

I bit my lip and nodded. “So, what? I’m your side ass while you go play house with her out in public and for the entire rest of the world? No thanks.”

At that moment, my phone rang, interrupting whatever diatribe Wilder was about to embark upon. I reached into my pocket and saw that it was my mother calling.

"Christ," I whispered. If I didn't answer and distract myself, I might end up mounting Wilder again before even he could stop me.

Despite all of the Hailey mess, I was still feeling heavily turned on. He was becoming my kryptonite.

"Hello?" I said into the phone, tearing my eyes away from Wilder who had now picked up a fifty-pound dumbbell and was lifting it like it was a small kitten.

"Olivia!" shrieked my mother's voice through the phone. "You answered!”

I rolled my eyes. “
You
are the one who never answers, Mom. Not me.”

“Oh, don’t be silly, Olivia! So how is
Italy
?”

I nearly dropped the phone. “How do you know I’m in Italy?”

“A little birdy told me…but that doesn’t matter. I have big news! I’m coming to see you!”

I squinted up at the clock on the wall. “What time is it there, Mom?”

"Oh, it's very, very late. Or very, very early. I'm not sure. But that doesn't matter! Aren’t you excited?"

“Mom, you hate Los Angeles. Why would come see me there?”

My mom laughed so loudly I had to hold the phone away from my ear. “Livvy, honey, I’m not coming to Los Angeles. I’m coming out to Italy!”

My ears started ringing. The last thing I needed right now was my mom to come visit me here. I was barely holding onto reality as it was. “Why?”

“Do I need a reason to visit you? You’re my only and favorite daughter!” She cackled again. I held the phone away while she kept talking. There was a good chance that she might finish the conversation by herself even if I hung up on her.

"It's my mother," I mouthed to Wilder, who rolled his eyes helpfully in solidarity. "Okay, Mom. That's great-"

“Yes, so when you are filming in Tuscany next week, that’s when I’ll see you. We already have the hotel room booked and the flights and-“ I heard a deep voice in the background. My mom went silent.

“Mom?” I tapped my foot impatiently, trying to drag my eyes away from Wilder’s sweaty, half-naked body. He hadn’t taken his eyes off of me the entire time I’d been on the phone call.

“Sorry, I have to run! I’ll text you when I’m in the air, okay? Love you!”

She hung up before I had a chance to ask her anything else. I snapped my phone shut and looked at Wilder. “My mother is coming to visit. Next week. Did you know we were going to be shooting in Tuscany?”

Wilder put down the two weights he was holding and nodded. “Yeah, I did.”

“How the hell did my mom know that?”

Wilder shrugged. “Why would I know that?”

I shook my head and walked over to the front desk to get a fresh towel. I dabbed at my face. The towel smelled like bleach. “It was a rhetorical question.”

“Does she normally visit you?” Wilder asked.

I laughed. “I haven’t seen my mom in over a year. I only fly home when I can use a friend’s soon-to-expire airline points. She never comes to see me. She’s…sort of unstable.” I felt my face drop as I thought of my mom.

“What do you mean?” Wilder asked. He was keeping a physical distance from me, which I appreciated. Even an interruption from my mother wasn’t cooling my libido.

“She’s a self-employed artist prone to disappearing for months at a time. I’m always the one trying to track her down to make sure she isn’t dead. She has this thing with men. She gets engaged and then a week later she’s moved in with someone else; generally, someone with more money to be honest. It’s happened so many times I can’t even keep track of most of them, honestly. She called me last week with yet another one. It’s ridiculous.”

“Was she like that when you were a kid?” Wilder was leaning against the handlebars of one of the treadmills.

I shrugged. “Yeah. I tucked myself into bed a lot.” I gazed at him for a minute. He gave me a gentle smile. That shook me awake. “Anyway, you don’t care about any of this.”

Wilder pushed his body off of the treadmill and walked closer to me, grabbing my towel and using it to dab at my forehead.

“Of course I care about it.”

I stared at him. There was a sincerity in his eyes that I wanted so badly to believe. I pushed that feeling down.

“I don’t understand why you want me so much.”

Wilder put his hand on my arm. It was like there were flames between us.

“I told you that night we met. You were going to fall in love with me someday. I’m still waiting.”

I felt myself reach up on my toes to get closer to his lips. I wanted to touch every inch of him. But I pushed past his mouth and reached his ear.

“Dump your fiancée, and then we can talk.” I slid back down onto my heels, grabbed my towel from him, and walked away.

CHAPTER TWENTY-FOUR

WILDER

When I made my way upstairs after another scalding shower in the gym, I threw on a fresh outfit. Hailey hated when I was in dingy clothes around her.

Harrison still wasn’t back from wherever he was. I took a deep breath before knocking on Hailey’s door. I could hear talking through the wood but I couldn’t make any of it out. I rapped three times.

The voices ceased at once. There was some frantic whispering a moment later followed by the sound of footsteps. The door opened, and Cat Guy stuck his head through into the hallway.

“I’m here to see Hailey,” I said. “I’m just checking in with her. She wanted me to, anyway.” I felt so emasculated standing there I was beginning to hate myself. Why the fuck was she making me go through her staff to see her?

Cat Man nodded. “Right. Uh, Ms. Holliday isn’t feeling well. She said she’d see you tomorrow morning.”

I was confused.

“What the fuck is this?” I asked him. “She told me specifically to come see her tonight. Too sick?”

I pushed on the door but Cat Man was stronger than he looked. It didn’t budge.

“Hailey!” I yelled over him. “Get the fuck out here.”

Cat Man glanced behind him. I couldn’t see past the entryway wall. “Um, Ms. Holliday will see you tomorrow.”

I felt my rage push up again.

“I put on real fucking clothes to come see her. And now I’m suddenly supposed to be sending messages through the guy who cleans up her cats’ shit? This is fucked up.”