Playboy - A Stepbrother Romance by Caitlin Daire Read Free Book Online Page A

collapsed onto the bed, totally and utterly spent. We lay next to each other for what felt like hours before either of us spoke, and finally, Anya tilted her head to the side and opened her mouth.
    “Wow.”
    “Wow is the right word,” I said.
    I grinned at her and sat up, leaning on one elbow as I slid the condom off. There was a tiny smear of blood on it, but I didn’t want to embarrass her, so I quickly disposed of it.
    The horror movie was still playing in the background, and a woman screamed onscreen as she was accosted by the ghost of her dead brother. Perhaps we hadn’t picked the best background sound for Anya’s first time, but I’d been so caught up in the moment that it hadn’t occurred to me to turn the movie off.
    “Do you think anyone heard us?” Anya asked. “Or can we blame the movie?”
    “We can blame the movie if you want,” I said with a wink. “Fuck…I’m exhausted.”
    “Same.”
    We lay in my bed, chatting about all kinds of things; movies, music, the city, our favorite foods. It felt good just talking to a girl about random junk instead of only screwing her, and even though we’d only just met tonight, I already felt totally comfortable with her, like I could let my guard down about anything and everything.
    This wasn’t something I did often, honestly. Or at all. Usually, I’d finish with a girl and then be done with her in general, but Anya was smart and funny. I wanted to talk to her forever, but at some stage, we must have drifted off to sleep from sheer exhaustion.
    Noises from the party woke me not long afterwards, and the sight of Anya curled up in my arms made me feel something I’d never felt before. Not in my entire life. Obviously it wasn’t love; I wasn’t that dumb that I’d believe anyone could fall in love that fast…but it was something like a pre-emptive loving feeling, as if I knew I’d fall in love with her one day if I kept seeing her.
    She moaned softly and rolled over onto her stomach, and I closed my eyes and went back to sleep. Party noises woke me yet again at around three A.M., and I groaned and reached over to stroke Anya’s back.
    Only she wasn’t there.
    I sat bolt upright, wide awake now. She’d probably just gone to the bathroom, but I was worried about her. My friends were all still here, partying it up in my lounge room, and I knew what some of them could be like when they were drunk. They wouldn’t sexually assault her or anything awful like that, but they might sleaze onto her in their intoxicated states, and I knew that would probably freak her out.
    I turned my lamp on, and there was a sudden sinking feeling in my stomach as I saw that her shoes, clothes and handbag were gone.
    Something bright caught my attention out of the corner of my eye, and I squinted over at the mirror above my chest of drawers. In bright pink lipstick, there was one word written on it in big capital letters. PRICK.
    Well, that certainly hadn’t been there earlier. Anya must have written it, although I had no idea why.
    And that was it.
    She was gone, and I hadn’t seen her again until she’d walked into Bistro des Artistes last night.
    I’d searched for her for a while, but even in the days of Facebook and Instagram, it was hard to find a girl in a huge city like New York when you didn’t know her last name. I’d kicked myself for weeks for not asking her what it was, and I’d asked everyone I knew who’d attended the party to see if they knew how to find her. Unfortunately, they’d all been so drunk that night that none of them even remembered who I was talking about when I’d brought it up.
    In a last ditch attempt to find her, I’d asked the friend who’d invited Dave to my party to ask him about Anya for me, and he’d sent a text to Dave to find out. Dave had sent back an address all the way over in Queens, and I’d headed out there to track her down. Of course, that was far too easy, and I should’ve seen what was coming next.
    When I’d