My Stepbrother Wants Me-Chapter 157: I’m Hot, Please Help Me

Catherine’s POV

I sat on my bed, processing the chaos of the day. I needed to talk to someone, so I picked up my phone and dialed Kiera’s number.

"Hey," Kiera answered on the second ring. "Are you dead? Or did Julian finally kidnap you?"

"Sorry, Kiera," I said, leaning back against my pillows. "I can’t come back tonight. A lot happened."

"Hmm. Why does it feel like a ’Julian problem’? Was he lying?" she asked, her voice turning serious.

"No. He wasn’t lying. It wasn’t what you thought."

"What was it then? What was so urgent that you had to sprint out of here?"

I hesitated, remembering the secret we were now keeping for Ethan and Tessa. I couldn’t tell her.

"My mom," I lied, the words feeling sour in my mouth. "She had a little kitchen accident. A burn. She’s fine now, she’s been treated, but I had to stay with her for a bit."

Kiera let out a breath of relief. "Oh, man. Tell her I’m sorry. I still haven’t met her, you know. I’m too afraid of running into the fearful Richard Vaughn to set foot in that part of the house."

I laughed, the sound feeling brittle. "Trust me, you aren’t missing much."

"So, how has the day been for you? Had time to think of Dante yet?" Kiera asked, her tone shifting to something more mischievous.

"Oh shit! Before I forget, I got into a fight with Lucy," I started, giving her the details of the fight— the insults, the slap, and the way I had pinned her to the floor.

Kiera let out a loud, genuine cheer through the phone. "Yes! Catherine! Let them all know that you got backbone! You are not the one to be messed with. Listen, next time she tries to swing, don’t just pull the hair. Go for the shins. It disables them faster."

We laughed for a few minutes, the tension in my shoulders finally beginning to dissipate.

"So," Kiera said, her voice dropping. "When are you coming over again?"

"Really, Ki? Miss me that much?"

I heard her scoff, "don’t flatter yourself, my darling brave friend. It’s my brother who is asking."

A blush creeped up my neck. "I don’t know. School resumes the day after tomorrow. I have to get my things ready."

"Fine, be a nerd," she teased. "Talk to you later."

The call ended, and I set the phone aside. I was just starting to close my eyes when my door burst open. I jumped, my heart leaping into my throat.

Julian was standing there. But he didn’t look like himself. His face was bright red, his eyes were glassy and unfocused, and he was breathing heavily, his chest heaving under his shirt. He looked like he was vibrating.

"Julian?" I asked, standing up. "What are you doing in here?"

He didn’t answer. He lunged across the room, closing the distance between us in two strides. Before I could even raise my hands to push him away, he crashed his lips onto mine. It wasn’t a gentle kiss. It was forceful, desperate, and filled with a hunger that felt like it had been building for years.

For a split second, I kissed him back. My body remembered him, even if my mind was screaming. But the anger rushed back, making me feel like I was suffocating. I tore myself away and delivered a hard slap across his face.

"Get off me!" I yelled.

Julian didn’t hit back. He didn’t even seem angry. He slumped forward, his forehead resting on my shoulder. "Catherine," he groaned, his voice thick and strained. "Help me. I feel... I feel like I’m on fire."

He grabbed my hand. Before I could pull away, he pressed it against the front of his trousers. I gasped, my eyes widening. He was rock hard, pulsating with a heat that I could feel even through the fabric.

I looked at his face. His pupils were blown, and he was sweating profusely. "Julian... were you drugged? What did you drink?"

He didn’t answer. He just leaned more of his weight on me, his hands fumbling with the hem of my shirt. "Please," he muttered, his voice barely a whisper. "Just help me."

I wanted him. Every part of my body was screaming to just let him take me, to lose myself in the heat he was radiating. But I couldn’t. Not like this. I wouldn’t be his relief while he was in a state where he didn’t even know who I was.

I grabbed his arms, struggling to keep him upright. He was so much heavier than me, and his movements were clumsy and erratic. "Come on, Julian. Move."

I dragged him toward the bathroom, my muscles straining under his weight. He stumbled, nearly knocking us both over, but I managed to shove him into the walk-in shower. I reached over and turned the handle to the coldest setting.

The water blasted down on him. Julian let out a sharp, choked gasp as it hit his skin. He slumped against the tiled wall, the water soaking through his shirt and hair.

I stood at the edge of the shower, getting sprayed myself as I watched him. There was a thick, heavy sexual tension in the air as he looked up at me through the water, his eyes briefly clearing. He looked beautiful and broken all at once. He reached for my hand, pulling me slightly toward the spray, but the cold water was doing its job. His eyes began to flutter, the intensity fading into a deep,l exhaustion.

Within minutes, he slid down the wall and fell into a deep sleep on the floor of the shower, the water still drumming against his back.

I turned the water off and stood there, shivering, looking down at the man who had just tried to ruin and save my night at the same time. I had to get him out of there before he caught pneumonia.

It took everything I had. I grabbed his arms and hauled him out of the shower, my feet slipping on the wet floor. I dragged him across the tiles and into the bedroom, finally managing to roll him onto the rug. I was exhausted, my own clothes soaked, but I couldn’t leave him like this. I threw a blanket over him and sat on the floor beside him, watching him sleep.

Who did this to him?