Page 125 of Heartless Stepbrother

No, studying me.

Studying how I took the comment. How I handled the attention. How I stood, breathed, reacted.

A test. Another one.

And then someone else, some girl with a messy bun and sunburned shoulders, pointed at me and whispered loudly, “Who’s the girl, Riley?”

Riley didn’t even pause.

Didn’t even pretend to think about the answer.

He slid his eyes to me, slow and deliberate, like he was savoring something only he could taste.

Then his words were loud enough for the circle to hear. “Careful with her. She plays hard to get.”

Heat slammed into my cheeks so violently I almost swayed.

A ripple of laughter rolled through the group.

Not cruel, just surprised. Interested. Suddenly far too aware of me.

I opened my mouth to argue, to deny it, to say I do not, actually, but Riley wasn’t finished.

He leaned one shoulder close to me, not touching, but close enough that I felt the smug heat radiating off him.

“And she fights,” he added, tone lazy and wicked. “Trust me. The girl’s a menace.”

More laughter. Someone whistled. A girl raised her brows at me like,oh, you’re that type?

My blush deepened. I wanted to sink into the sand.

I elbowed him, a sharp jab to the ribs. “I don’t—“

Riley’s hand shot out, catching my wrist effortlessly, like he’d been waiting for it.

He didn’t grip.

Didn’t restrain.

Just held, lightly, like a warning.

Then, low enough that only I could hear, he murmured: “See? Told you. Bites.”

The group laughed again, but they weren’t laughing at me anymore, they were laughing because Riley had just made me part of the game. Something unpredictable. Someone who pushed back.

I yanked my wrist free, pretending the burn in my chest was anger and not something far more humiliating.

Riley’s eyes flicked down to my mouth, then back up, amused.

And then he said to the group, tone sharp enough to cut: “Don’t get your hopes up. She’s my problem.”

Not his step-sister.

Not his date.

Not someone he cared about.

Hisproblem.