Razor: A Bad Boy Stepbrother Romance(13)

Chapter 5





Carly




I can’t believe he’s lying right in front of me.

Mason’s light snores filled the cabin as he slumbered on my couch, his long legs extending off the side.

Sitting across from him, holding vigil, I watched as his flat stomach gently rose with each inhale, marveling at his body and then admiring his handsome face.

He looked like the day he’d left. Nothing had changed. Well, there were some changes. Mason had always been cut and fit, even in his teenage years, but now he seemed bigger than I remembered — more filled out. More like . . . a man.

I wanted to reach out and touch him, run my fingers along his body. It was something I always dreamt about doing. What was stopping me? He was in a deep sleep and would be none-the-wiser.

Hell, he was so exhausted I could probably even take a peak . . .

Carly!

I let out an explosive breath. I’d been seconds away from reaching out to feel him . . . to feel it. Shit. I so badly wanted to know if he was all talk. It was suddenly stifling hot in the cabin. I needed to cool off, to get away from the tempting image of my slumbering stepbrother.

Fanning myself, I got up from my seat and moved in the corner where I could still keep a watchful eye on him but maintain a safe distance.

As I sat there, I wondered what he’d he been up to while he was gone? Where did he go? Most importantly, why didn’t he call me?

Was he really in some kind of serious relationship?

Thinking about it filled me with anger, even though it shouldn’t have.

There’s no denying it. I was jealous then and I’m jealous now. But I need to stop and get over it. We will never be together.

I was a little annoyed at myself that I was more worried about where Mason was putting his cock, than worrying about the explosive evidence that he’d brought to my doorstep.

As a wannabe mainstream journalist, this could make my career.

Sure, I was pissed at Mason for deserting me, but now wasn’t the time to dwell on it. Now was the time to seize the moment.

I’d made a promise to Rosemary Collins. If Ashley Collins was to have justice, I needed to help Mason bring Mayor Bradley down. Rosemary gets her justice, I jumpstart my career, and Mason stays out of jail and alive.

It was almost too much to believe. Even now, I was having trouble believing that the charismatic Mayor could have done something like that, even after seeing it with my own eyes.

And the police, they’re just as guilty covering it up.

The whole thing disgusted me. These were our public officials that were there to keep us safe and to look out for us.

I started to gain a sense of courage, of purpose. I felt like it was my duty to expose this corruption, felt honor-bound to get the truth out there — to be Mason’s sidekick in doing so gave me all the more courage to see it through.

I’m going to make sure everyone who’s involved in this pays if it’s the last thing I do, I vowed. And maybe, just maybe, I’ll be rewarded justly for my efforts. If not with a career, maybe with an eight-inch cock.

Carly!

Despite the dangers of helping expose Mayor Bradley, I knew that the potential reward outweighed the risks.

With evidence that could rock an entire city, maybe even the whole state, there wasn’t an up-and-coming journalist on earth who wouldn’t want to be in my shoes.

If we released the video on my blog, and Mason allowed me to take full credit, I’d be famous overnight. I’d finally get the recognition I deserved.

Despite the grim circumstances, I was filled with excitement. This is what journalists lived for.



* * *



I spent the rest of the evening doing menial tasks, sweeping the floors, cleaning the kitchen and occasionally peeking out the window for unexpected visitors while watching over Mason.

It took some effort, but I managed to keep my lustful thoughts to a minimum.

When midnight came, I was ready to crash. Mason was still snoring away, and I was getting too tired to keep watch. Besides, he had all but assured me that no one knew where he was . . . for now.

“He really is exhausted,” I murmured quietly, watching his chest rise and fall as he snored gently. Noticing goosebumps on his arms, I dug a warm blanket out of a small storage container next to the couch and placed it over him. I stepped back and eyed it critically. It didn’t cover his whole body, but it would do.

Buoyed by a sudden impulse, I bent forward and gently kissed him on the forehead. “Good night, Mason Keller,” I whispered softly.

He continued to snore unabated, and after a moment of staring at his handsome face, I went into my small bedroom, undressed, garbed myself in pajamas, and got into bed.

I laid there, waiting for sleep to take me, but it never would. My mind was on Mason, and the fact that he was in the next room over. His body looked like it was etched in stone, and I’d love to run my tongue over each and every inch of it.

I visualized what it would feel like having his powerful hands touch me and caress my curves, going down below until he . . .

Sighing softly, I slid my hands down my stomach and under the lap band of my damp panties. I was just about to touch myself when I paused.

What am I doing?

I wasn’t much of a fan of masturbation, I always felt guilty afterward, but sometimes I couldn’t help myself and desperately needed to relieve tension. Like now.