15. Soren #2
“It shouldn’t bother you so much,” she seethes, bouncing on her other foot to keep her balance. “ Why do I bother you?”
“It’s not really you,” I admit. Surprising myself.
She looks up at me and blinks, her eyes so big behind her glasses. She’s like me, I realize. She wants a home. She wants a place where she can relax the tension in her muscles and enjoy every single moment.
I release her foot and anticipate her next hit. My body warms. I can already see how she’ll move, stepping forward into me and lifting her hand to rake those nails across my face.
A glance down shows her fingers already curling.
“You shithead!”
I duck to avoid her attack and twist on the way back up.
Unfortunately, Gilli moves at the exact same time.
We’re reaching for each other, grabbing, but rather than go for her hands I grip her face.
The softness of her skin against my rough palms makes me want to slide my fingers higher and thread them through her hair. To tighten my hold and keep her there.
Her chest meets mine and Gilli goes still.
“It’s not you,” I repeat, my voice husky.
She shuts her eyes, her back arching slightly and her breath catching. When she opens them again, I’m the one who isn’t breathing.
Her chest is hardly moving. “Then what is it?” she whispers. “ Who is it? Her?”
I skim my hands over her cheeks, her jaw, along her temples. Unable to stop myself. I’m crowding her and I know it, even as I can’t stop drawing in the scent of her. Heat melds us together and the rest of me comes alive.
“I don’t know…”
Neither of us makes a move. We only stare at each other, with me touching her like I’m going to do something.
I want to do something.
I want to kiss her. I want to taste her lips and absorb every molecule of heat from her loaded stare.
Shit, I want her.
My stepsister . I’m not supposed to want those things.
It’s wrong, even though she tugs at me on so many levels. Desire trickles through me and lands low in my abdomen and my dick gives a twitch she surely feels.
The moment goes tense. Desire makes it impossible to feel any sort of shame or embarrassment. I open my mouth to beg her—for what? The tips of my fingers skim down to her lips and there is no denying the desperate need.
What I’d like to do with my hands…
I clamp down on my jaw, dropping one hand from her face to her hips.
Gilli is breathing hard. Her tongue darts out to lick her lower lip but she isn’t pulling away. She isn’t telling me to stop or following through on her kick to my rapidly hardening cock.
“Soren? ”
I squeeze her hips, slowly tugging her closer yet before drawing my hand up the side of her torso. Brushing a risky caress against the underside of her breast until she gasps.
My heart thuds painfully against my ribs.
She doesn’t look like she wants this to stop. Gilli tilts up her chin, her mouth slightly open. My skin tightens and I steal another forbidden touch, only now it’s my knuckles against her hard nipples. One, the other.
The weight of her breast against the top of my hand is sinfully good. She shivers against me and my cock hardens in my pants.
What am I doing?
I continue to rub her breasts, growing bolder with the movement. Suddenly it’s my thumbs brushing those pebbled nipples and Gilli whimpers. I slide my other hand up to her hair and grab those silky strands, crushing them.
The sparkle in her eyes makes my stomach twist.
“Do something about it, Gilli. Do something.” But what?
With a groan, I drop my head to the side of her neck and bury my face against her skin. Too bold, I warn myself, biting the crook where her neck meets her shoulders.
Her pulse thumps against my lips.
How easy it would be to open my palm and cup her breast entirely. To squeeze and fondle and take what I want from her. Her chest against mine, her smell on me, and our skin touching until the warmth spreads through every inch of me.
“I-I can’t,” she whispers.
I want her. I want this.
Until remembering exactly who she is—what she represents—brings me back to my senses.
“Fuck,” I blurt out. I push back to put distance between.
Her cheeks sport a fiery blush and she drops her eyes down to her feet.
Oh god, what am I doing? Why is it so difficult for me to control myself around her?
My dick aches and throbs as I turn tail and head back to the cabin, as far away from her as possible.
I’ve hated her for years. Hated her mother, hated the whole fucked-up situation. It’s never been in my control, and it’s easier, and more gratifying, to use hatred as a shield. Yet I want her.
I want her as a woman, as a person. Her spark, her spirit, her stubbornness, and her body.
I’m in a bad way. A bad fucking way.
For some reason, I’ve gone from confident to second guessing every step I make. Following her out into the woods today had been a mistake. Bullying her within these four walls was a mistake.
Hating her has made me want her more. I want to feel everything with her. I want to make her scream my name until it echoes across the lake like a ripple.
I’m fucked in the worst kind of way.