Once Kenna Wellington's stepbrothers come into her life, crazy can't even begin to explain it. Her life was totally fine with her two best friends and a mom who couldn't love her more than she already does. Then there is Mason, her other stepbrother...
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The TV in front of me is almost silent as the outside air since it is midnight. I'm plopped down on the living room couch with a bowl of cereal sat in front of me on the coffee table. My phone dings in my pocket, no doubt one of my best friends trying to get me to go to a party. I'm pretty comfortable right now. The TV is playing some stupid romance movie, and my covers are covering my feet. I'm warm and everything in the atmosphere is warm. I even have the fireplace going. It's a fake one. Everyone is asleep in my house, so it's just silent peace.
There hasn't been that much peace in my house since Mason and Carson moved in. Not that I would object to them being here, because I'm growing to love them (one more than the other, weirdly). Carson and I have grown closer in the short time he's lived here, and Mason and I are becoming friends. Actually really good friends. Not only is our friendship increasing, but so is my attraction toward him. He recently got a new bow to slide in his eyebrow, and it just compliments every feature of his. I can't help the way I feel about him though. It's like I just got a new roommate. I don't think of him as my stepbrother. It's a scary thought. But I've become accustomed to it.
He's actually the reason I am up this late. I had a dream of him, recently, with his hot mouth on my needy neck. It was extremely explicit but I loved every moment of it. I shouldn't of, and that's whats making me fear to go to bed, for another steamy dream like that.
"Oh, hey," a voice says somewhere, sounding like Mason. I snap my eyes open, just to make sure I'm not dreaming, satisfied when I'm not dreaming. Good. It was probably a guy from the TV.
See what I mean, I just thought that voice was Mason and it's horrible because my heart spiked.
"Kenna," the voice says again. This time I snap right up and notice the shadow near the stairs. My heart falls in my chest when I realize Mason is standing there, shirtless. I'm so thankful for the darkness right now because I'm sure my face is flaming. I'm also pretty happy that the fireplace is shining right on his chest, letting me know he really is there and not a part of my imagination. My eyes slide up his chest to his face, where his bar glints in the TV light for a second.
"Oh, hey, hi, hi-hi," I stutter and sit up like a stick on the couch. I right my covers to cover the top half of my body, which is where I am not wearing a bra. Mason turns around and walks into the kitchen. He comes back out with a bag of chips and plops down on the opposite side of the couch from me. I rotate my body around and grab my bowl of cereal just so that I don't fidget with my fingers. Mason watches me for a moment before speaking.
"Are you in Mr. Haste's class?" Mason starts. I shake my head no but speak because it's dark and he probably cannot see me that well. Although from my angle, I can see everything. I can see the way his shoulders sit, and how when he breathes his whole body rises. His arm is sat along the armrest of the couch, the hand that grabs the chips. His feet are perched on the coffee table, next to the ugly plant my mother bought.
