VULTURE (a Stepbrother Romance) by Emilia Beaumont

I snacked on. I made small work of the porch steps and pushed open the unlocked back door.
    “Sara, it’s me,” I said, loud enough for her to hear.
    Footsteps padded against the upstairs floorboards as I heard her make her way towards the landing. I put the bottle onto the kitchen counter and waited for her to come down the hallway.
    “You should really lock your back door, you know. Anyone could walk—” I took a sharp intake of breath as I saw her again for the second time that day. She wore a pair of faded indigo jeans that made her short legs look amazing and a simple white shirt that stretched tightly over her ample chest. Her outfit was a far cry from the thick woollen sweaters and shapeless trousers she used to wear.
    As I looked from her bare feet, my eyes skimming over her thighs and shapely body and up to her messy bun, it puzzled me how it had taken me so long to really see her. Her figure was full of arcing curves that cinched in at her waist, a top-heavy hourglass that I couldn’t help but wish to see naked. I conceded, though, I’d settle to see her bend over in those jeans.
    “You look nice,” I said. “Got a fancy date?”
    She chuckled and pushed a hand at my chest, then reached up to pat at her hair as if embarrassed. “Don’t be silly, I look a mess. I just nipped up to get changed out of my work clothes. You don’t mind that I didn’t dress up?”
    “Not at all, I meant it when I said that you looked nice.”
    “Oh,” she replied and turned away from me, but I caught the pink colouring on her cheeks before she did.
    “Sorry, I thought you were teasing me.” A slight hint of— what was it, embarrassment? No, more like apprehension—had entered her voice. Was she not used to compliments? Or perhaps she didn’t know one when she heard it. Eric surely would’ve showered her with loving pet names and whispered plenty of sweet nothings in her ear. Had she simply gone too long without one after his death?
    “Well, I can do that, too, if you want,” I said to her back, admiring the roundness of her arse as she collected a tea towel from a bottom drawer.
    “No, that’s OK. I’d rather you not.”
    “Fair enough. You’re enjoying your new job, then?” I asked.
    She came close. An intoxicating cloud of vanilla and coconut drifted up from her body and around my head. The delicious smell made all my receptors stand up and take notice.
    Fuck, they weren’t the only thing standing up, I thought as my cock thickened, straining against the tight confinement of my suit trousers. I only hoped to god she didn’t notice. If she were any other woman, I’d gladly be wanting her to dip her gaze down to my crotch, enjoying the moment when her eyes inevitably widened with lust and excitement as she saw the outline of my need for her. But this was Sara, my stepsister, and though it would no doubt turn me on to have her looking at me like that, well, it wasn’t ever going to happen, so why even think it? I’d have to make do with lookalike bartenders instead.
    Her mouth opened again. She’d said something, and I’d completely zoned out.
    “Harvey,” she smiled and nudged me back to life, “I need to you move, you’re in the way. I gotta get the knives and forks.”
    I gladly strode away, coughed, and took the opportunity to readjust myself as Sara busied herself behind me in the kitchen.
    I heard the oven door open and resisted turning back around, not wanting to give myself any more impure thoughts of her perfectly shaped bottom filing out those jeans. I almost groaned. I needed to distract myself.
    “Need any help?”
    I risked a glimpse back into the kitchen, and Sara was thankfully back at the countertop. She smiled and shook her head. “Thanks, but not tonight. Just go sit down on the couch and relax. I’ll call you when dinner’s ready.”
    I nodded, walked into the living room and let out a huge, pent-up breath.

9
    Sara
    “ I hope you’re hungry ,” I said to Harvey from