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Time. The same thing I’d had for the past three years as I’d slowly gotten closer to her. As I waited.
I was pissed, but knew trying to fight him on it would do nothing, so instead, I pleaded for him to wait. Just until after my senior year, so I wouldn’t have to live with her. So I wouldn’t have to be under the same roof and try not to look at my fucking step-sister like I didn’t want to fuck her on every surface of that damn treehouse.
But that’s exactly what I had to do. I had to see her every goddamn morning and night, make small talk in the hall, help clean our communal bathroom, look at her across the dinner table with nothing but a blank face, and not react when I passed her room at night and the door was open.
She liked to do that sometimes, usually when she was exhausted after one of her games, but I still wondered if it was somehow on purpose. If she enjoyed testing my self-restraint.
When she was sleeping, it never failed that she’d kick off the comforter. Her oversized shirt would always be lifted, exposing her curves, toned legs, and an ass I wanted to bury my cock in. I wanted every fucking part of her, and if there was the smallest hint that she didn’t care that I was now legally her brother, I would have done it despite the aftermath. Would have stripped her down and devoured her sweet pussy before shoving my dick so far inside her she’d feel me there for weeks.
I wanted her to feel how long I’d waited for her.
How bad I fucking wanted her.
Somehow, though, none of that happened. I stayed in a place more discouraging than the friendzone, and had to grin and fucking bear it.
Who knew having patience would pay off? That eight years later, my feelings would be the same.
With our parents’ divorce, there’s no longer an obstacle to overcome; no forbidden element blocking me from what I so desperately want. And this time, I’m not going to skirt around the obvious. She’s mine now as much as she was eight years ago, and it’s time she understood.
After drying Adelina’s small wound, I lift her hand and incline it toward the bright overhead light. It’s a little deeper than a paper cut, but it won’t need much besides a bandaid.
Keeping her hand in mine, I walk us to the edge of the kitchen to a drawer where her mother keeps the first aid kit. I’m quick to open it up and dig inside for a waterproof bandage. Using my teeth, I rip off the top of the package, my gaze on Adelina.
Her lashes flutter.
Yeah. Still mine.
“I thought we’d stopped this habit of you accidentally hurting yourself around me,” I tell her, securing the bandage around her finger.
During our depressingly long year living under the same roof, there was more than one occasion she tripped over her feet, hit the corner of walls with her shoulder, or slammed a hand in the cabinet.
“It’s because you make me nervous.” Her breath hitches as the confession escapes. Her realization she didn’t mean to say that part out loud turning her cheeks a delicious pink.
I level her with an expressionless stare, my eyes lowering briefly to a mouth I’ve fantasized about more times than I’d like to admit. Adelina’s chest begins to rise and fall faster, the quick thump of her pulse in her neck proving her words true. Still, I need to know the reasons.
“How do I make you nervous, sweetheart?”
Her lips part, the blush deepens, and my cock twitches. It grows harder the longer the silence stretches, and just when I’m sure she won’t answer, she whispers, “Because I can’t read you.”
I draw back slightly, a little surprised. “You’re nervous because you don’t know what I’m thinking?”
She nods. It’s slow and bashful, her dark eyes barely visible under her thick row of lashes. “It’s similar to how people fear what they don’t understand. I’ve never been able to figure you out.”
I arch a brow. “You’ve tried?”
“Of course. Since I first met you,” she scoffs. “And then when I became your siste—”
My grip around her hand tightens. “I have never seen you as my sister.”
She swallows thickly. “I’m not sure if that’s supposed to be an insult or…”
Adelina’s voice trails off, and her eyes dip away. It isn’t until this moment that I realize I hate when she’s not looking at me. I’m annoyed even more that the action makes my sternum draw tight. I hook a finger under her chin and turn her face back toward me.
“If you want to know something.” Lifting her injured hand, I press my lips softly over the bandage. “All you have to do is ask.”
A long, weighted moment passes between us, an understanding settling thick in the air. I’m transported back to the day in the treehouse when I was seconds away from kissing her.
I want to kiss her now.
