My Stepbrother's Dirty Little Secret novel Chapter 325

Chapter 325

Raphael looked away first this time, dragging a hand through his dark hair with a quiet curse under his breath like he was trying to regain control of something.

And weirdly enough, that made my heart beat even harder because this powerful man standing in front of me actually seemed affected by me too.

Raphael’s gaze held mine for a second longer than necessary before he spoke again, “If you still feel like you need, somewhere to put all that anger…” he said, glancing briefly toward the long stretch of stone path, I know a place.”

My brows pulled together slightly, “Where?” I asked, hesitant.

He pushed off the pillar and turned just enough to look back at me, “Change,” he said simply. “Wear something you can move in.”

My confusion deepened, “Move for what?”

A faint, almost restrained look passed over his face like he was choosing his words carefully, “Meet me in the private garage in ten minutes,” he added, already starting to step back.

Then, as if it were nothing at all, he glanced at me once more.

“You’ll know when you see it.”

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I looked at the clothes scattered in my closet. I didn’t own tactical pants like his, but I knew I needed to match his energy for wherever we were going.

I reached into the back and pulled out a pair of deep green military cargo pants. The fabric was thick, but loose enough around my legs to let me move. I pulled them on, tugging the heavy material up over my hips and buttoning them tight around my waist.

Next, I grabbed a simple black crop top. It was tight, hugging the curves of my chest and ribs, leaving a strip of bare skin exposed at my stomach. I laced up my heavy leather boots, pulling the strings until the leather wrapped tight around my ankles.

My slightly wavy, light brown hair was a messy storm around my shoulders. I couldn’t leave it loose. I grabbed a brush, pulling the wavy strands back with tight strokes, smoothing down every single bump until it was plastered tight against my scalp. I twisted the length of it behind my head, coiling it into a sleek, tight bun right at the back of my neck.

I took one deep breath, checked the time on my new phone, and slipped out of my room and into his garage. Rows of sleek, dark sports cars sat under the soft overhead spotlights, but my eyes didn’t care about the cars. They scanned the place, looking for him.

Then, I saw him.

Near the back wall sat his custom heavy bike. And right there, sprawling out over the seat, was Raphael.

He was lying leisurely on his back across the bike, looking incredibly relaxed, as he waited for me. He had one long leg draped loosely over the side of the metal tank, his boot resting casually against the exhaust pipe, while his other leg stretched out long toward the floor. His hands were tucked behind his head, his elbows pointing outward, a position that forced the dark fabric of his black shirt to stretch incredibly tight across the massive, hard planes of his chest and stomach.

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From this angle, his broad shoulders looked even bigger, blocking out the bike beneath him. The sleeves of his shirt were still pushed up, showing the thick muscles of his forearms and the dark ink of his tattoos curling around his skin.

He looked so effortlessly beautiful, so heavy and masculine against the black metal, that my mouth went completely dry.

Slowly, as if he could feel the sudden shift in the air, his long eyelashes fluttered. His head turned just a fraction on his arms, and his dark, intense eyes opened, locking instantly onto me standing by the door.

Raphael didn’t jump up from the machine. He didn’t even move his hands from behind his head. He just lay there on his back, his dark eyes locked onto mine.

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