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And I didn’t know men…put their tongues…there.
My cheeks burn at the memory and I’m overheating so much I have to throw the covers off. How dare something so bizarre feel incredible.
I could barely concentrate on the revelations that we overheard, then when it was over Uncle Kristian got me out of there so fast my head was still spinning from the orgasms and the words we overheard. Before I could catch my breath, he led me by the hand through a side door and out to the waiting car.
As soon as he pulled up in my driveway, he reached for my hand and said my name, but his touch flooded me with shame and panic. I wanted to fling myself into his arms, and yet, Dad could have been looking out the window right at that moment.
So I ran away and shut myself in my bedroom. My first night out as a grown woman and heir to the Belyaev fortune and power, and that’s how I behaved? Getting hot and heavy with my uncle at a party?
Disgraceful.
I huff and turn over onto my back, kicking the blankets off my legs and staring at the ceiling. I completely lost my head. Uncle Kristian was so sweet to me. Kissing my palm in front of everyone. Holding me out of every man’s reach and close to him. Uncle Kristian’s possessiveness melted my brain.
And then he kissed me.
I moan at the memory.
Thatkiss.
I was seeing stars it was such a decadent kiss, and then…
Close your eyes. Pretend I’m someone else.
Only, I didn’t even try and pretend. I knew it was Uncle Kristian with his fingers between my legs. Iwantedit to be Uncle Kristian. I’msick. He’s the only man I’ve ever wanted to touch me like that, and he once sat me between his strong arms on a shooting range when I was six years old.Want to see me hit the target, dandelion?
I remember that day vividly. The safety goggles were too big for my face. The mufflers were too big for my ears. His eyes were dark and focused like a predator. The gun kicked in his hand when he pulled the trigger, and he hit the very center of the target every time.
I thought he was magical.
All those birthdays. All those Christmases. All those summers. He was always there, making me laugh, holding my hand, drying my tears. There were too many tears. I’ve always hated crying because it makes me feel weak and like I’m begging for attention. I would run away from Uncle Kristian if I felt like I was going to cry, but he always, always found me.
That day in the pool when I was fifteen. Uncle Kristian and I were playing together, splashing each other and laughing. Our pool is wide and deep and he would dive to the bottom with me on his back, my arms wrapped around his shoulders as he effortlessly swam through the water. His muscles were so strong, I remember that clearly, and holding him like that and drinking in his power was intoxicating. I felt drunk on him. I loved him.
I jumped on him again, wrapping my arms around his neck. I remember my cheek pressed tight against the crossed guns tattoo on his chest. He scooped me close and whispered,You’re my favorite kind of trouble, princess.
And then he let me go. He got out of the pool and left without looking back.
I felt sad and a little confused, but it wasn’t the first time that he and Dad had to leave me without warning. I assumed he just remembered he had somewhere he had to be.
And the next time I saw him? I don’t remember. It was probably less than a day later, but it must have been so unremarkable for me that it’s become lost in the blur of all the wonderful days spent with Uncle Kristian.
Which means he really did keep it from me that he wanted me.
He always kept it from me until the night in the warehouse.
I frown, thinking carefully. Or did he? Wasn’t there something unusual about the night he and Dad were in the motorcycle accident? I was sixteen and people were starting to treat me differently. Not like a kid who needed to be protected and sheltered, but like a woman who had thoughts and ideas that were valuable. Strangers were treating me differently, too. On weekends if I was out by myself, grown men would smile at me. Handsome men with smoldering smiles who must have mistaken me for a grown woman, or just didn’t care that I was sixteen.
I was cleaning up Uncle Kristian’s wounds, something I’d done dozens of times before, but this time his flesh was so hot and captivating beneath my touch, and I couldn’t take my eyes off him.
I was seeing him as a man for the first time, and not just my uncle. He was so hungry for me that the stinging pain of the disinfectant on his cuts was pleasurable because it wassomething. Now that my insides are aching for him, I understand how he felt. Him gripping my hair and pulling it tight in his fist would be a pleasure right now, not a pain.
The door to my bedroom creaks open and softly closes again. I stare at the ceiling, resigned to the fact that a little brother or sister of mine is creeping into my room for a cuddle. Maybe that’s what I need to get my mind off my uncle.
A deep voice speaks softly in the darkness.
“Can’t sleep?” My mattress sinks, and a huge figure swings his leg over my body until he’s sitting astride my hips. “Me neither, princess.”
I gasp and reach out in the darkness, and my hands touch a muscular stomach beneath a soft, well-washed T-shirt. Uncle Kristian, dressed in jeans and with his blond hair falling into his beautiful eyes. He’s been home and probably to bed. And now he’s here at three in the morning.
