Total pages in book: 95
Estimated words: 90209 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 451(@200wpm)___ 361(@250wpm)___ 301(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 90209 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 451(@200wpm)___ 361(@250wpm)___ 301(@300wpm)
I had noticed all these things in the year we’d been living in the mansion together, but I didn’t understand them. My mom is one of the sweetest people you’d ever want to meet—I just didn’t get why someone wouldn’t love her.
But Jake only shook his head.
“You’re imagining things,” he growled. “Maybe I just don’t want anyone trying to take my mom’s place. I miss her, the same way you miss your dad, you know.”
“How old were you when she passed?” I asked quietly.
“Fifteen.” The raw pain in his voice was impossible not to hear. “She got a rare form of cancer—there’s no cure. My dad spent millions flying her around the world, taking her to the best clinics and the most renowned doctors but it didn’t help…she died anyway,” he finished in a low voice.
“Aww, Jake—I’m so sorry,” I murmured, nuzzling my face against his shoulder. “My dad was hit by a car when he was changing a tire that blew on the Interstate,” I offered. “It was instantaneous. I still remember my mom’s face just crumpling when the State Trooper came to the door to tell her the news.”
I shook my head and realized that my eyes were stinging. I blinked rapidly, trying to push back the tears. That old memory hurt—a lot. The pain in my mom’s face and the way she cried and cried, as though she would never be able to stop. It had been so frightening to realize at such a young age that anyone you loved could just be snatched away in an instant with no rhyme or reason or explanation. That they could be here one moment and gone the next with no possibility of ever coming back.
“Hey…you crying, little Ani?” Jake’s voice was gentle.
“No,” I denied and then sniffed.
“You are—I can feel your tears on my chest.” He sighed. “God, I wish I could get my arms free to hold you.”
“Thought you didn’t want to hold me,” I muttered.
“I want to comfort you,” he rumbled.
“Like you did when Mr. Binkers was hit by a car,” I said, and sniffed again. “You were so nice to me that night—I really felt like we’d turned some kind of corner in our, uh, brother-sister relationship. But then you went right back to being an asshole again.”
“Because I couldn’t risk getting too close to you again,” Jake said.
“Because your dad told you not to?” I asked, looking up at him.
He nodded shortly.
“That and I didn’t want to risk pushing you into your Heat Cycle. It was my understanding that your mom wanted you to avoid ever having one, if you could.”
“We’re close right now,” I pointed out. “I mean, way closer than ever before, which Sorenson is sure is going to bring us together. But I don’t feel a thing.”
Which was maybe not the complete truth. I had warmed up some now and I couldn’t help thinking that Jake’s bare, muscular body felt really nice against my own. But that was as far as it went. And just noticing your stepsibling wasn’t a crime, was it?
Jake only grunted at that, which was an aggravating kind of non-answer.
“Sorenson is so sure he’s going to push us together, but we’re just laying here talking and neither one of us has gone crazy with lust yet,” I went on, determined to make my point. “I mean, it’s not like I’m humping your leg or anything, right?”
“Actually…” Jake shifted a little and I could feel his hard, muscular thigh rubbing against the soft mound of curls at the top of my pussy. The feeling sent a shivering tingle through me and for a moment I was hyperaware of the way my nipples were rubbing against his warm side as well.
Then I pushed the feelings aside and told myself I hadn’t had them at all.
“That doesn’t count,” I said crossly. “I’m just getting warm right now—I can’t help it that we’re pressed together. It was this or freeze to death!”
“I know, little Ani, but you should really move as soon as you’re warm,” Jake told me.
“I will,” I promised. “But I’m not warm yet. It’s really cold in here.”
“Mmm-hmm,” was his skeptical reply, but I noticed he didn’t ask me to move again.
“Tell me a story,” I said, trying to change the subject. “Tell me about the most exciting place you ever went. Your dad is rich—you must have traveled all around the world, right?”
“I did,” he admitted. “Mostly after my mom got sick, though.” He sighed. “But I still have some good memories—times when she was in remission and we could actually travel for fun. I remember one time in Istanbul, we went to the public bathhouses and soaked in the hot mineral water for hours. Afterwards, we went walking in this huge open square and found a vendor who was selling this amazing pastry.”