Married To My Billionaire Stepbrother

Chapter 163: I Am Not A Saint

Natalie stood frozen in her place, and got back to her senses only when she heard the water from the shower running. She looked at the bathroom door and remembered Justin’s expressions from just a moment before.

’Is he angry that I pretended to forget it? Is he disappointed in me, because I was the one to beg him for it, but like an ungrateful person, I didn’t even acknowledge his help or thanked him for taking care of me?

I am such a terrible person.She buried her face in her hands, struggling to get the hold on her thoughts. What should I do now?

Her eyes landed on the T-shirt Justin had tossed aside before heading to the shower. She picked it up, and for a moment, it felt as though it still carried the warmth of his body. Her heart skipped a beat, memories of the previous night flooding back—of him, of them, and the way he had cared for her.

That intoxicating closeness, those passionate kisses, his warmth that felt more comforting than anything, his scent, and the deliberate care in his touch. Every intimate moment lingered in her mind, causing her breath to grow shallow.

What the hell? I’m not high on drugs anymore to be feeling like this again. She quickly folded the T-shirt, set it on a chair, and hurried out of the room before Justin could emerge from the bathroom.

She went straight to the kitchen, grabbed a chilled bottle of water from the fridge, and downed half of it to steady herself.

’It’s just that the weather is hot... and I am thirsty,’ she tried to reason out, breathed a few more times to calm herself and looked around the kitchen. I shall cook everything he likes to make up for what I did.

Natalie remembered what Justin liked as she could guess it from his reactions whenever he ate her cooked meal. She started preparing quickly. Everything has to be delicious. Once he sees the food, he’ll forget all his anger.

She was immersed in cooking when Justin entered the kitchen, now dressed in casual home clothes. His damp hair clung slightly to his forehead as he ruffled it with his fingers on his way to the fridge to grab a drink.

Natalie was aware of his presence but didn’t dare to look at him, unsure how to react. She could see through the corner of her eyes that he was drinking water and his gaze was on her.

"Dinner will be ready soon," she said, trying to sound casual.

Justin hummed and put the bottle aside, only to hear Natalie wince lightly in pain. He looked at her and found that she had cut her finger.

Damn it! Natalie cursed inwardly and grabbed a tissue to stanch the small cut on her forefinger.

Justin stepped out of the kitchen instead of going to her.

small cut so he doesn’t need to pay attention,’ she tried to reason out

taking her

hold of her injured hand without waiting

bandaid in his hand. Now she understood he didn’t

held her finger under running water, then wiped gently it to

to talk about the things she

to forget... because I was embarrassed..." she

focused on carefully wrapping

to meet his gaze. "I was embarrassed by the way it all happened... I should have thanked you instead of pretending not to remember. I just thought it would help keep things normal between us. I know you didn’t really want to do it—it was just to help me in that moment. I

to?" Justin interrupted, his voice low but firm.

Natalie looked up, meeting

in desire. "You have no idea what I want to do with you whenever I see you. I’m no saint, Natalie. But I wasn’t going to do anything while

body aware of this man’s overbearing presence and intentions towards her, but she didn’t feel reluctant.

CEO of the Harper Group? But the more she got to know him, the more he seemed like a rogue, a man with wicked desires

every bit of it felt dangerously

the heat radiating from him. His voice, low and

it was so hard to hold back when you kept asking for it,"

His closeness tugged at her memory, dragging her back to the previous night. Her face flushed crimson, the warmth

from the shower, and all tempting. With this much closeness, he was

thumb brushing across it in slow, deliberate strokes. The touch sent a tremor through her,

whispered, barely

darkened, his

opened her mouth to speak, but no words came. And then, his lips

he asked, his voice rough

a small nod, her breath hitching in

before had been a blur, muddled by the haze of drugs—but now, this