I get to my feet and slip outside. The air is cooler here. The moon hangs high over the water beyond the trees, casting a pale glow across the sand, turning the lagoon almost silver.
I move a few steps away from the shelter, stopping at the edge of the clearing. My hand drags through my hair as I try to steady my thoughts.
It doesn’t help. The quiet makes it worse. And my head goes straight back to her in that towel.
Desire hits hard and fast, twisting low in my groin. Then my hand slips beneath the waistband of my shorts, my fingers wrapping around my cock. I move slowly at first, long strokes from base to tip. My grip tightens as the rhythm builds. My thumb brushes over the head, and a quiet sound slips out before I can stop it, swallowed quickly by the night.
It doesn’t take long. This has been building up in me for days.
My breathing turns uneven, my body tightening with it, every movement pulling me closer.
Her.
The way she looked. The way she felt. The way she leaned into me without even realizing it.
It all feeds into it, building fast, until there’s nowhere else for it to go.
I brace my free hand against the nearest tree and finish with a tight fist, the release hitting hard, shuddering through me. I drop my face to my forearm and come on the jungle floor, hips jerking forward with each pulse, breath tearing out of me in rough bursts.
My elbow nearly gives. I lock it and ride out the last of it until there’s nothing left, my body sagging against the trunk, bark biting into my palm.
I stay there for a moment, forehead pressed to my arm, just breathing as I tuck my cock back into my shorts.
The thought that follows is worse.What would it feel like to be inside her?
“Fuck.”
I hate this.
Hate that I want her.
A low groan slips out as my head tips back, my gaze lifting to the sky. I stand there for a while, breathing slowly, trying to push the thoughts back where they’ve lived for a while now. It doesn’t work. The longer I stand here, the worse it gets—everything tightening, sharpening into something harder to ignore.
Anger. Grief. Something close to despair.
“Why?”
Why does she have to be my sister? Why did Ryan have to tell me?
I could’ve lived with loving mystepsister. I could’ve been happy. But I know now, and there’s no undoing it.
The truth sits on my chest. And the worst part isn’t that I’m in love with her.
It’s that I didn’t stop even after I knew.
I’m still staring at the sky when I hear footsteps behind me. I tense before turning.
Charlotte steps out of the shelter and pauses just outside, letting her eyes adjust to the moonlight. The shirt she’s wearing hangs loose to her thighs, her hair still slightly damp where it falls down her back.
She studies me.
“Dane?”
I drag a hand across my face before she can read too much. The night air has cooled me down, but not enough to hide it completely.
She walks a little closer. “Are you okay?”
“I’m fine.”
