Watch Me Love Your Stepbrother: Rejected, Pregnant , And Claimed

"..... are not leaving, Mireya Brenner."

My heart did a traitorous, stupid little skip, and for one heartbeat, my lungs forgot how to work. Then, the absurdity of it hit me like a slap to the face. I threw my head back and let out a laugh.

"Did you hit your head on the way to the office, Laziel?" I wiped a fake tear from my eye. "You’re talking like you bought me. Like I’m some piece of furniture you ordered from a catalog."

He didn’t move. He didn’t even look annoyed. He just stood there.

"I didn’t buy you," he said, his voice terrifyingly calm. "I just removed the exits."

"Try me."

I shoved him. I put every ounce of strength I had into pushing his chest, but it was like trying to shove a wall.

He didn’t budge an inch. I glared up at him, panting. "Do you ever eat normal food, or is your diet just concrete?"

He looked amused.

"Let’s make something very clear," I snapped, pointing a finger directly into his chest, right over his heart. "You don’t own me, you’re insane," I hissed. "You’re a controlling, manipulative, arrogant person who treats people like assets."

"Continue," he repeated, his eyes darkening, tracing the line of my throat.

"You don’t even know what you’re doing, do you? You’re so obsessed with winning that you don’t even know what you’re fighting for!" I grabbed his lapels, shaking him. "Do you even know what love is?"

Silence.

Something shifted behind his eyes.

Tiny.

Almost invisible.

For the first time...

Laziel Monroe didn’t answer immediately.

"No."

I blinked, my anger stumbling. "No?"

"No," he said. "I’ve never needed it."

He spoke like he was discussing the weather, not the deepest human emotion. I let out a sharp, humorless laugh. "God... you’re actually broken."

His eyes narrowed.

His leg, which was already positioned between mine, shifted. His knee pushed higher, pressing directly against the sensitive junction of my thighs.

The contact was electric. It was too much.

My head fell back against the door, my eyes rolling toward the ceiling as my knees threatened to buckle.

Oh, God.

He felt my reaction—he knew he was breaking me—and he leaned into it. He pushed harder, his leg grinding against me.

It made my skin flush. The way he could reduce me to a trembling mess with just a shift of his weight... it was intoxicating.

"I don’t fall in love, Mireya," he rasped, "Don’t flatter yourself."

He reached out, his hand sliding up to the nape of my neck, his fingers tangling into my hair to tilt my head back further. He forced me to look at him, as he watched the wreck he was making of me.

"I become interested," he murmured, his thumb tracing my throat. "And my interest... has a habit of becoming permanent."

He moved his leg again, a teasing movement that made my hips jerk against him instinctively. A low, needy sound escaped my throat, and I hated myself for it. I hated him even more for being the one to pull it out of me.

"So, perhaps..." he paused, his gaze dropping to my lips, his knee sliding upward, agonizingly slow. "...you should be asking yourself whether you know what obsession is."

Silence.

He was seconds away from claiming my mouth, and I was seconds away from letting him.

Buzz. Buzz. Buzz.

His phone rang.

Laziel didn’t even flinch. His gaze remained fixed on my lips.

"Your phone," I rasped, my voice sounding like it belonged to a stranger.

"Irrelevant."

Buzz

I pushed against his shoulders, not because I wanted to, but because if I didn’t, I knew I was going to lose the last shred of my self-respect.

"You’re obsessed with control," I whispered, my voice shaking. "Not me."

He pulled back, just an inch, his eyes hooded. He didn’t let go of my hair. Instead, he wound the strand tighter around his fingers.

"Is there a difference?" he asked.

Buzzz.

"Your workers....they need you, Laziel."

"They have instructions," he whispered, "And right now, my only instruction is to see how much further I can push you."

He pulled me closer, lifting me effortlessly until my heels hovered off the ground and I was forced to wrap my legs around his waist just to stay upright.

"Laziel, stop..."

"No..." He gripped my thighs, his fingers digging into my skin. "Especially not when I’ve finally gotten a reaction that’s actually honest."

He walked, carrying me toward the table. He swept his arm across the surface, sending a stack of folders, his buzzing phone, a glass carafe, and a laptop crashing to the floor.

I shrieked, clutching his shoulders as he hoisted me up onto the table.

He stepped between my legs.

"You came here to make my day worse," he said, "Mission accomplished."

He leaned down, his mouth inches from mine, and the hunger in his eyes was so raw.

"Now," he growled, "it’s time to see how much of that ’hate’ is just a mask."

He didn’t kiss me. Not yet. He just hovered there, letting the anticipation rip through me until I was nearly crying out from the pressure.

"Tell me to stop,again." he dared, his hand sliding down to the waistband of my slacks. "Tell me to let you go, and I’ll walk out that door right now."

I looked at him—at the man who ruined everything, the man who stole my life—and the word died in my throat. I couldn’t say it. I didn’t want to say it.

I wanted to slap him but I just pulled his head down to mine.

Our lips met, and it was a mess. Aggressive. Fast. Like we were both trying to suffocate each other. I stopped thinking. I stopped hating him. I leaned into the heat, hands tangling in his hair, pulling him until there was no space left. He groaned, pulling me so hard against him I felt everything.

We were drowning. Losing it.

Click.

The door swung open.

His chief security officer walks in halfway through saying:

"Sir, your wife has arrived in Milan, and..."