Royal Prick (A Stepbrother Romance)(9)

By: J.L. Beck

I clenched my fists in anger. I had been right about Royal. He was gorgeous, almost like Ryan Gosling gorgeous. The picture my mom had of him didn’t do him justice whatsoever. He was way hotter in the flesh, and the icing on the cake was that he knew it and used it to his cocky advantage.

“Fucking A,” I swore under my breath. I couldn’t even hear myself think let alone focus on any type of homework including the five-page paper that I needed to finish. I literally had one of two options. I could sit here and hope he would turn the music down, or I could stomp across the hall and talk to him, and demand he turn that God forsaken music down?

Then there was the issue of keeping my eyes where they needed to stay. Like off his lean muscles, tight shoulders, and don’t even get me started on his incredible ass; you get the point. Since the moment he got here all I could think about was how his tight denim jeans clung to his hips in the most delectable way. I would bet Jordan twenty dollars he had abs underneath that shirt he wore. Was I jealous of the shirt? Probably, it was touching his body.

Enough. I spoke to myself.

I just needed to go in there and tell him to shut his fucking music off. I couldn’t focus on anything with my brain vibrating out of my head. I shoved my pencil into the crease of my book and slammed it shut jumping up from my bed. Nervous butterflies erupted deep inside my belly just as I opened my bedroom door and walked across the hall. The beat of the music was vibrating throughout my body. I stood outside Royal’s bedroom door for a moment, contemplating if this was really a good idea. I was terrified, deathly afraid of Royal. He was so different than what I had expected, so different than anything I had ever seen.

I shoved the fear away, knowing if I showed him that I was scared that he would do nothing but use it against me for the rest of his time here.

I squeezed my hand into a tight fist raising it to land loudly against the white wooden door. The pounding of my fist against the wood grain did nothing. Hmmm. I knocked again just a little bit louder than the time before, seriously hoping that he actually heard me this time. Again nothing happened. The music wasn’t turned down, nor did he open the door. I wanted to yell at him for ignoring me, but instead I grabbed for the door handle, gripping it tightly in my hand. I took a deep breath and twisted the knob throwing the door open in anger. Thank God I took a breath before I opened the door because there was no way air could pass into my lungs right now. Not after what I found when I opened the door.

My mouth watered and sweat coated my palms. I took in his entire room but

mainly just him. There he was in all his glory, on the floor, his hands pressed firmly into

the wood floor, as his body lifted up and down. The muscles in his shoulders, back, and

arms bunched together with each up and down motion he did. He was doing pushups,

but why? I couldn’t look away no matter how hard I tried. It was like watching a bad

accident right before my eyes. I didn’t want to look but couldn’t help it.

Look away, Noelle, look away. I licked my lips, suddenly feeling hotter than I ever had.

I was mesmerized by the tightness in his muscles. His throat cleared, as if to pull me from my thoughts just as he got up from the floor. I couldn’t tell what he was thinking, and hoped like hell that he couldn’t see the blush spreading across my face. The contours of his face were covered by a mask that was completely devoid of any feeling. It was as if he didn’t want you to know his emotions until he felt you should.

“Can I fucking help you?” His words were clipped, his voice rough. My body shook with emotions that I had never felt before. I huffed out a breath. Okay, so he was pissed off. Well I was, too. I straightened my shoulders and tried to make myself seem taller, bigger, less like tiny naive Noelle and more like someone that wasn’t intimidated by his bullshit.

“It’s a common courtesy in most households to answer the door when someone knocks on it,” I yelled over the music making sure he could see how angry I was. Long, tone, and tan arms reached out grabbing the remote for the stereo off the nightstand next to him. He shot me a cold glance as he turned the damn thing off.

The coldness in his eyes caused a shiver of panic to run down my spine. I forced myself to look away, not even caring that it made me look weak to do so. I couldn’t bear to look into the frigid waters of his soul any longer.

He challenged me every passing second I stood in his doorway. I swallowed past the lump in my throat. It took some major convincing to force myself to look at his face and not anywhere else on his shirtless body. Royal felt no shame though, he didn’t seem to care; his own eyes roaming all over my body from the roots of my honey colored blonde hair to the tips of my toes. I suddenly felt self-conscious in my jean shorts and bright colored t-shirt; my skin warmed all over, and a spark of fear filled my body.

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