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“I’m so sorry, Zayden.”
I nod. “Most of the time she’s okay as long as she’s not active. But there are times, when even something as simple as taking a breath can be too much for her. She has to use an oxygen tank often because of it. I spoke with my dad after the fight and he said it hasn’t been a good night. She’s only nine years old and she can’t do anything other girls her age are doing. She can’t have sleepovers, ride a bike, or go to school.”
“I can’t imagine how hard that must be for her,” Rylee remarks. “Or how difficult it must be on you and your dad.”
I jerk my head to her. “I don’t care about myself. What I feel is nothing compared to what she’s going through.”
She nods, and her throat bobs when she swallows. “Absolutely, but that doesn’t mean your feelings aren’t important. It’s obvious you care deeply for her, and something tells me you’re a good big brother.”
My lip curls up into a sneer. “I’m such a good brother that I’m here with you, instead of at home with her.”
She slides her ass across the cushion until her knee touches my thigh. Her hand is warm when she lays it on top of mine.
“That doesn’t make you a bad brother. It makes you human. Everyone needs a break sometimes.”
“Danielle doesn’t get any breaks from the pain she endures just from breathing. What makes it okay for me to have one?”
“She was given a crappy lot in life. That doesn’t mean you have to stop living your own life. It’s okay to take time for yourself. It helps to keep you sane during the difficult times.”
I clench my jaw and turn away from Rylee. I want to believe what she’s saying, but it’s hard to want something when my sister only lives half a life. There are so many things I want for Danielle, things she’ll more than likely never have.
“Her doctors want to put her on the transplant list, but insurance won’t pay for it because they claim her case isn’t severe enough,” I spit the last part. Rage fills me every time I think about those uppity insurance bastards.
“What are you and your father going to do?”
I look down at my hands and curl my fingers into fists. The damaged skin breaks apart. “Fight until I can pay for it myself and hope it’s not too late.”
Rylee grabs one of my clenched fists and uncurls my fingers. She runs the tip of her pointer finger lightly over one of the busted knuckles. “So that?
??s why you fight,” she murmurs.
“Yeah,” I answer huskily.
Having her hold my hand in her much smaller one, along with the way she daintily examines the damage on my knuckles feels good. Way more than it probably should.
Sitting this close, I smell roses. I wonder if it’s her natural scent or if it’s the shampoo she uses. Whatever it is, it’s intoxicating.
She lifts her head and her gaze meets mine. There’s something in her eyes that has my blood heating and traveling south, filling my cock to an uncomfortable level in my shorts.
I don’t realize what I’m doing until my hand is tangled in her hair. I lean closer at the same time tugging her toward me. I have no idea what’s come over me, but the need to feel her mouth against mine is something I’m unable to resist.
At the first taste of her lips, a low groan rumbles from the back of my throat. She tastes fucking incredible. Sweet. So goddamn sweet.
A little mewl vibrates from her lips and her fingers grip my thigh, sending shockwaves of pleasure racing through me.
This is wrong. She’s Oliver’s fucking stepsister, and he’d skin me alive and call me a traitor if he knew I was kissing his enemy. But right now, I don’t give two shits what Oliver would say or do. This feels too good to ignore.
Using the grip I still have on her hair; I tilt Rylee’s head at a better angle. Then I wrap an arm around her waist and hoist her onto my lap. Her knees go to either side of my hips as our kissing continues. She’s not even pressing down on me and I still feel the heat of her.
I nip her bottom lip causing her to suck in a breath. A shudder ripples down my spine when she laces her fingers in my hair. Gripping her waist, I pull her hot center down until it meets my cock, groaning at the contact. Any control I have left is slipping away by the minute.
I trail my lips down the slender column of her throat, marveling in her delicious taste.
“Wait,” she pants and tightens her fingers in my hair. I want to growl my disapproval, but the shakiness in her tone stops me. “I can’t—” She shakes her head. “We can’t do this.”
I rest my head against the back of the couch and try to catch my breath. “Why not?”
She dips her gaze away from me and stares at the strings of my hoodie.
