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Her nose is like a button, small and perfect. Her skin is flawless as though she’s never even heard of the word puberty. Her eyes, such a deep-sea blue. Her hair is dark, curled today, and falling on her shoulders in artful waves. It looks pretty, but I prefer it natural—straight with a few waves here and there. I don't let myself get started on those lips because if I look at them, I won’t be able to stop. I really fucking won’t.
“I’m doing this to protect you,” I tell her. “And you really should know why already. Do I need to spell it out for you?”
“Protect me from what?” she asks innocently, ignoring everything else I’ve said. I want to show her so badly. I want to press her against the wall, kiss her roughly, and push my hand between her legs. I want her to know I’m not her stepbrother anymore, and I haven’t been for years in my mind. I’m a man, and I want to fucking have her, whether she likes it or not.
She’s the solution, not the problem. And the game Parker and I are playing will never work, because, in the end, it will be all about June and the stiffness between my legs at the mere thought of her.
I shake my head, groaning because words are fucking hard right now.
But then she steps closer, and I catch her scent, teasing me relentlessly. It’s not what I would have pictured, not what I had in mind in all my forbidden fantasies. She’s not peaches and cream—she’s wild strawberries and champagne, melting on my tongue. Of fucking course she is. Even the way she smells is expensive.
“I won’t stop coming back,” she says, our bodies almost touching but not quite. “I’ll be here, and I’ll wait for you. Because at the end of the day, you are and always will be my brother.”
The frustration boils in my blood, and my hands fly up, grabbing her roughly by the shoulders. “I’m not your brother, June,” I hiss. “We’re not blood. We’re not family.”
I can see I’ve upset her, and it’s for all the wrong reasons. She thinks I’m telling her I don’t care about her, but I do—fuck, I do. In all the wrong ways, in all the wrong places, I care about June Wildfox.
I don’t tell her that. I look into her eyes, and she returns the favor, her pupils dilated, the irises reminding me of the lake we visited in the summer when we were young. She’s all that I’ll never have. And then she says something that fucking floors me.
“I don’t really want you to be my brother.” I almost miss it. She looks down, and I stare at those long, full lashes sweeping across her cheeks. I want to taste her so badly. “You never were, as much as I tried to make you,” she goes on. “Parker was my brother. You ignored me, didn’t want to spend time with me. You never called me little sis, like he did.”
She looks up at me, her eyes full of hurt and sadness.
“I don’t need another brother,” she whispers as my stomach fucking flips, praying for the words I want to hear. “I need … I need something else,” she murmurs, her eyes fleeting toward mine, looking for comfort, for the love she lost when our parents passed.
I’m sure I could have her at that moment. But images of our parents dance before my eyes, reminding me of one thing.
She’s my sister. It’s my duty to protect her, and I’ve done everything but that so far. Is it fair to take advantage of her now when she’s at her weakest? And I got her into this fucking mess. So, it's up to me to keep my word to our parents and make sure she doesn't get hurt even more.
"Don't push me away," she begs. I shake my head again, pushing past her into the building, past a neighbor. I press the elevator button, but June's there again, unrelenting. "Don't go, Kade, please. Give me another chance. I want to prove something to you..."
"What?" I demand. "That you're a fucking kid? Because that's what you're acting like."
"No." She shakes her head just as I open the door to the elevator. She steps in before I can stop her, and I grunt a curse, getting in beside her.
"You're not getting in my apartment," I tell her roughly. "I don't fucking want you there."
“Why do you always have to have the last word?” She stands in front of me, blocking my exit from the elevator.
“Think you got me confused with Parker. Move, June.”
“No, talk to me.”
“I said, move.” I push her aside, and she stumbles. I want to help her up, but I don’t. This is a crucial moment—I need to do everything and anything in my power to push June away. But she didn’t seem to get that memo, and the more I fight to be free of her, the more she follows me around like a lost fucking puppy. “What do I have to do to get rid of you?”
