Total pages in book: 46
Estimated words: 45361 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 227(@200wpm)___ 181(@250wpm)___ 151(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 45361 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 227(@200wpm)___ 181(@250wpm)___ 151(@300wpm)
“I shouldn’t have said that,” he says gruffly.
I turn, my whole body shaking. Every inch of my body is searing under his attention. I’m doing my best to hide it and contain the fiery ball of lust that continuously expands inside me.
“Then why did you?” I murmur.
He walks across the room, stopping just shy of me. His scent is in the air, overpowering the spices, but that could be because I’m hungrier for those scents. For his bodywash and shampoo. For him, underneath it all, a primal connection I can’t fight against much longer.
“It’s the truth,” he growls. “Your body is perfect. Your smile is perfect. You
are—”
“You shouldn’t be saying this,” I cut in, my voice weak. “You know you shouldn’t. You’re my step-uncle.”
It’s a fact we both know, but I throw it out there as a last-ditch effort to put the brakes on this.
“I know,” he says. “It’s wrong, but it’s the truth.”
I fold my arms, glaring up at him. “So, I guess we’re done pretending we never kissed, huh?”
Behaving confrontationally is the only way I can defend against the desire within. It doesn’t stop, not even for a second, constantly pulsing within me, screaming at me, demanding things I shouldn’t want… things I need.
“I tried,” he says.
I laugh, hating how mean I sound, but not sure how else to go about this.
“Did you really?”
“If I hadn’t tried…” He moves even closer. “I would’ve kissed you the second I walked through the door.”
“Why are you saying this?”
“Because it’s the tr—”
“But why are you saying it?” I snap. “You know we can’t do anything together. You know it’s impossible, and hell, Miles, you don’t even know me. You got drunk and made a mis—”
“I wasn’t drunk,” he growls, “and it wasn’t a mistake.”
“So you don’t regret the kiss?”
“Do you?”
“If Mom and Noah ever found out, they’d be devastated. People would judge us, too. A step-uncle and his niece…”
“That’s not an answer to my question,” he says. “Do you regret the kiss?”
He’s leaning down, his breath tickling my cheeks, enticing.
“Yes,” I say.
He smirks. “Are you telling the truth?”
He’s so close now, looking directly into my eyes. He’s got this unhinged look in his expression as if, any second, he could jolt into action and grab me, kiss me, and bring all my steamiest fantasies to life.
“No,” I whisper, “but I should regret it.”
“Should. What an evil goddamn word. I shouldn’t do this, but I can’t stop.”
Suddenly, the last year melts away—the aftermath of the wedding, the kiss, getting a new job at the restaurant, and watching Mom and Noah flower into marital bliss.
It all disappears, no longer existing. We’re back in the garden under the stars with his lips pressed against mine. This time, I’m even more aware of how wrong it is. I’ve had plenty of time to think about what I would do if I were ever in this position again.
In my mind, I imagined pushing my step-uncle away, yelling at him, lying to him and myself, and saying it was disgusting. I hate it, but that would never happen, I realize, as he pushes against me harder. My ass bumps into the kitchen counter, and he growls through the kiss, our tongues clashing in eruptions of nerves and lust.
His hands smooth down my body, every inch electrifying under his touch. He grabs my hips obsessively, sinking his hands into my body. It’s as though he’s dreamed about this as fervently as I have and is captivated by me. I’ve never felt so wanted.
He lifts me up, placing me on the counter, then surges forward. His manhood is huge and stiff, pressing through his pants against my sex. We begin to rock together as though it’s the most natural thing we could do, the only thing, but it’s the opposite. It’s the last thing we should be doing, even thinking about doing.
We should stop. We both know it.
He leans back, creating a little space between our bodies. Then his hand glides up my thigh, sparks of pleasure hissing with each movement, getting closer and closer to my sex, fire blazing between us.
This is my moment to remember Mom, remember the pain etched into her features each time she returned from another unsuccessful date, each time she struggled to find love.
Now, she finally has it with this man’s brother.
“Perfect,” he whispers between the kisses. “Every. Single. Part of you.”
His hand smooths right between my legs, pushing down on my sex. I gasp, our teeth clicking together with the suddenness of the pleasure. My pussy is so sensitive to his touch, anticipating everything that will come after as nerves try to strangle that thought.
What am I going to be able to do for him? Just because I’ve got some pride in my body—a healthy amount, I’d say—doesn’t mean I know what to do in situations like this. It doesn’t mean I’ll be able to give myself to him, fully and completely, like I wish I could.