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That alone sends a shiver through my body and my muscles clench with how badly I want her. I’m so far gone – when did this happen? I thought I had myself under control …
“Wait, please …” she whispers softly and I stop, because as badly as I have to, need to go on, I would do it all for her. I will stop, and I will listen, even if it breaks me. Because for her, I would break my own bones, again and again …
“Emme, let me be,” I repeat my own words from the previous day. “Please. I can’t right now.”
I can feel her frown despite the fact that I’m looking at the floor, trying hard not to glance up at her beautiful face. I can imagine her lips setting in that pout of hers, the one that always gets her what she wants. And I know full well that if I see it now, this encounter will be no different. She has me twisted around her little finger, and she doesn’t even know it …
“Why do you try so hard to push me away?” she asks sadly, her words breaking syllable by syllable. “I know you hate me … I know you have reason to. But I tried to help you. I tried to give you money. Tried to get you an apartment. How can you be so self-righteous?”
I finally raise my gaze, though I still have to look down at her. Emme’s tall, but I still tower over her with my 6 feet 4 inches. I survey every inch of her face, letting myself savor this moment. Her nose is like a button, small and perfect. Her skin is flawless, like she never even heard of the word puberty. Her eyes, such a deep sea green. Her hair is blonde, 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. And don’t get me 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.
“Protect me from what?” she asks innocently, and in that moment, 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 her.
She’s the solution, not the problem. And the game Aiden and I are playing will never work, because in the end, it will be all about Emme and the stiffness between my legs at the mere thought of her.
I shake my head, because I don’t trust myself to answer.
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 of my forbidden fantasies. She’s not peaches and cream – she’s wild strawberries and champagne, melting on my tongue.
“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, Emme,” I say angrily. “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 love her, but I do – fuck, I do. In all the wrong ways, in all the wrong places, I love Emme Ford.
I don’t tell her that. I look into her eyes and she returns the favor, her pupils dilated, the irises reminding me of a lake we used to go to in the summer.
She’s beautiful, she’s stunning, and she’s all that I want.
She’s all that I’ll never have.
And then she says something that breaks me in half.
“I don’t really want you to be my brother,” she says very very softly, so I almost miss it. She looks down and I stare at those long, full lashes sweeping across her cheeks. I want to kiss her so badly.
“You never were, as much as I tried to make you,” she goes on. “Aiden was my brother. You ignored me, didn’t want to spend time with me. You never, not once, called me sis, like he did.”
She looks up at me, her eyes full of hurt and sadness.
I want to kiss the pain away, baby.
“I don’t need another brother,” she whispers as my stomach flips, praying for the words I want to hear. “I need … I need something else,” she murmurs, her eyes fleeting towards mine, looking for comfort, for the love she lost when our parents passed.
I could have her in that moment. I’m sure of it. 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?
“What do you need, Emme?” I ask roughly, wanting her to say it.
She’s shaking in my hands, but her eyes stay on mine, begging me for more. “I want you to make it better,” she admits. “I want the pain to go away …”
“I’ll only make it worse,” I say, trying hard not to break. “It’s not right.”
“I don’t know right or wrong,” she whispers. Her hands flutter to mine and her touch is soft, forbidden, and dangerous. “Teach me what I need to see,” she asks me, and I know my breaking point is here. “Show me why wrong is right this time around…”
I exhale and I feel like it’s the first time I’ve done that in months, in years. I feel my resolve weaken, wanting her so fucking badly.
There’s a brief moment when I have a choice. An option to do what’s right, set her straight, realize she only wants to feel comforted. That she doesn’t want me, but someone to calm her down. And I’m the worst person in the world to ask, because she’s all there is for me …
And then the moment is gone, and I break again, reaching for her desperately, crushing her against me as she sighs eagerly.
And she puts me back together, piece by piece.
Chapter 9
Our bodies are touching, and I can feel her heart beating against my chest wildly. We haven’t done it yet – haven’t done anything we shouldn’t have.
But then she stands up on tiptoes and her lips find my cheek.
It’s a brotherly kiss if I ever saw one, but when she moves away, I see all that she can never ask of me in her eyes. And I’m a goner.
I grip her arms and pull her even closer, her breasts pressing against me.
“Are you sure?” I whisper, only inches away from her beautiful face.
Her eyelashes flutter and she nods eagerly. “Kiss me?” she asks me.
I lean forward and my lips brush her forehead. “Kiss you here?” I ask.
She shakes her head, and I move to her closed eyes, my lips gentle on her closed lids as she shakes in my hands. “Here?” I ask again.
Another tentative shake of her head follows.
I slide my lips down her face, feeling her skin with my mouth. Finally, I stop an inch from her lips, resting my lips on her cheek. “Here?” I whisper roughly, barely able to hold back.
And she shakes her head again and whimpers against me, wanting more.
So I do what she wants, what I’ve wanted for years.
