ARROGANT BASTARD by Winter Renshaw

he slept with his stepmother, the fact that he convinced me it was perfectly natural to touch myself while thinking of him, or the fact that I willingly did it.
    I was a fool to think he actually gave a shit about me. He’s a manipulative con artist, filled with sin and blackness, and I was nothing but a pawn in his twisted game.
    I walked right into his web.
    I took the bait.
    I fell for his cunning lines. His persuasive insistence. His charm.
    Nothing but one giant act to cover up his incestuous cravings.
    I’m stunned senseless.
    I’ve never hated anyone in my life, but as of right now, I hate Jensen Mackey.
     

CHAPTER 11
     

    Waverly disappeared after dinner tonight. I watched her clear the table with her mom and sister until Kath asked me to go outside and play with the kids.
    “They need to get to know their big brother,” she said with a soft smile. “You need to get to know them too. You’re family.”
    I put on a good face, slipped on my jacket, and headed outside to teach the small kids the joy of good, old-fashioned puddle jumping.
    Mark can thank me later.
    After a solid hour, Summer called all the kids inside and they filed to their respective houses for what I can only assume is their bedtime routine. Everyone seems to head to bed around seven thirty in this family.
    I trek up the stairs after an hour of watching public television documentaries about dead presidents and pass by Waverly’s closed door. I knock lightly and hold my ear up against it.
    “Go away, Jensen.”
    “How’d you know?” I whisper through the closed door.
    It’s silent on the other side, but my feet cement to the floor. I’m not going anywhere. I’ve got all night. My devious mind doesn’t shut off until half-past midnight, most nights.
    The door swings open. She’s standing there in floral pajamas, her hair piled on top of her head and her face scrubbed clean. A small bedside lamp illuminates her otherwise dark room, and a book is lying open-faced on her bedspread.
    “You always bother me this time of night.” There’s an auditory huff in her hushed words.
    “I bother you? I thought you enjoyed it.”
    “Never.”
    “Lying is a sin.”
    She squints, a feeble attempt at a dirty look. It’s cute at best. A wasted effort. “Go to bed, Jensen.”
    She tries to shut the door in my face, but I block it with my body. I step inside, one foot on her blue carpet. “I’m not tired. Are you tired?”
    “Exhausted.”
    “You hide it well.”
    “What do you want?” Her crystal eyes lock into mine. I like her this way—feisty. Feisty Waverly is sexy as fuck.
    “I want to talk.” I stand firm.
    She studies my face, and maybe she’s trying to summon strength from her God or whatever, but she and I both know I’ll knock down any walls she tries to build in two seconds flat.
    “We have nothing to talk about.” She crosses her arms and steps away from me. I take it as an invitation.
    “I want to talk about last night. We didn’t have a chance earlier. I just wanted to make sure you’re okay.”
    Her eyes fall to my feet, her arms locked tighter than ever. I hear her inhale. “I was okay with it, until...”
    “Until?”
    “Until I realized what a lying piece of garbage you are.”
    Goddamn it.
    She’s the prudish, eighteen-year-old, modern-AUB version of Josiah-fucking-Mackey. I refuse to stand there and let her judge me when she doesn’t know half of what my life’s been like.
    My fists clench at my sides. The nerve she’s just struck is raw and stings like hell, but I grit my teeth and breathe through it.
    “What did I lie about?” My jaw is set so tight it’ll take a pair of pliers to pry it apart.
    She steps back until she falls on her bed. “You convinced me to… touch myself… but you did it for yourself. For your pleasure. I know what you did, Jensen. And it’s disgusting.”
    “What did I do, Waverly?” I prepare myself for a whole host of things. I’m not a saint. I never pretended to be