Chapter 2 Warren #2
My hands slide to her waist, feeling the curve of her body beneath thin fabric. Her fingers thread through my hair, tugging me closer, and a soft clamor escapes her. That sound undoes every bit of restraint I've built for years.
The blanket falls to the ground.
I taste mint and champagne on her tongue. The heat of her skin beneath my palms sears my skin. My heart hammers against my ribs as I pull her onto my lap, her weight settling against me.
This is wrong. This is Blake's little sister. This is Janie. This is the family that saved me.
But in the fading firelight, those thoughts burn away. There's only her mouth on mine, her hands gripping my shoulders. I trail kisses down her neck, drunk on the scent of her perfume and the taste of her skin.
My name rips from her lips against my ear, and I'm lost.
We break apart, both breathing hard. Her lips are swollen, her eyes wide. My hands still rest on her hips. The choice hangs in the air between us, heavier than smoke.
Then Janie rises and extends her hand to me. An invitation. A line I never thought I'd cross.
I take her hand. Neither of us says anything.
I follow Janie up the stairs, my fingers still laced with hers. Each step feels like crossing another boundary, another promise to her family I'm breaking. But I can't pull away. Not now.
We slip into her bedroom, the same room where she grew up. Books line the shelf, and a framed diploma hangs on the wall. This is Janie's space, and I'm trespassing in every possible way.
The door clicks shut behind us. In the darkness, her silhouette is backlit by moonlight filtering through the curtains. For a heartbeat, we just look at each other, the magnitude of what we're about to do hanging between us.
Then we collide.
My mouth finds hers, hungry and insistent. I press her against the wall, groaning as her body arches into mine. Her hands slip under my shirt, and her palms slide over my chest frantically. I murmur against her lips.
"I shouldn't be here," I stammer, even as I trail kisses down her neck.
"I want you here." Her voice is breathless, certain. She tugs at my shirt, then her fingers unbutton it, shoving it off my arms.
We stumble toward her bed, shedding clothes as we go. My hands explore the curves of her body, memorizing every inch of her. When I lower her onto the mattress, the reality of what we're doing hits me again.
"Janie—"
She silences me with her mouth, pulling me down on top of her. "Don't think. Just do."
My hands tangle in her hair as she wraps her legs around me. The heat of her skin against mine burns away every rational thought.
"Fuck, you're burning me alive," I whisper against her collarbone, overwhelmed by the scent of her perfume mingled with desire.
She can’t form words, only sound, only raw and wrecked.
Every nerve in my body rebels against reason. My hands fist in her hair, dragging her closer as her calves drag along the backs of my thighs, pulling me deeper.
The thin cotton of her dress rides up, baring the heat of her thighs against mine.
Downstairs, the faint tick of the grandfather clock drifts up, a brutal reminder that this is the one place, the one girl, I can never touch.
I should stop. I should pull away before this becomes something I can’t take back.
But then she moves beneath me—soft, certain—and that thought goes up in flames.
“Jesus, Janie.” My voice scrapes out of me, rough against her throat. “You feel so good.”
Her mouth finds my ear, a broken plea spilling out. "Warren."
I’ve heard that voice a thousand times, teasing, whining, laughing, but never like this. Never pleading. Never breaking me wide open.
I push her back into the mattress, my mouth tracing the line of her collarbone, the swell of her breast, the soft catch of her breath. Her hands fist in my hair, tugging me closer.
I fumble at my belt, shoving my jeans down. She wriggles under me, panties sliding over her hips with a quick tug, her dress bunched high around her waist. The sight of her, spread out and waiting, nearly undoes me.
"Condom," I rasp, already reaching for my wallet.
Her hand stops me. "Don’t. I’m on the pill."
For a breath, I hover, hesitation seeping in. The last shred of sanity begs me to stop. The house creaks in the silence below us, a reminder that her family is just downstairs. That I shouldn’t be here.
Then she reaches for me again. Her fingers wrap tightly around my cock, guiding me down. The tip grazes her dewy heat, and the contact jolts through me like an electric current. Her knees lift, pressing against my sides as her hips rise, silently begging.
God, help me. I can't...
“Janie—”
“Please,” she breathes.
The plea hits like a spark to dry tinder. I press forward, slow at first, the first push stealing my breath. She’s hot, tight, her body gripping around me as if she’s been waiting forever.
A groan rips from my chest, part pain, part ecstasy.
"Fuck." I bury my face against her throat, shuddering. "You’re… unreal."
She arches beneath me, nails carving into my back, gasps breaking against my mouth as I drive deeper. Her heels dig into me, demanding more. I grab her thigh, anchoring it against my side as I thrust harder, the silky slide of her body pulling me under.
Her head tips back, a silent cry tearing loose, and the sound shreds what little control I had left. I squeeze my eyes shut, teeth gritted as the pressure coils low and savage in my spine.
The rhythm turns frantic, desperate. Every thrust sharper. Every breath ragged. Until there’s no stopping it. Heat detonates through me, violent and blinding. I groan into her mouth as I spill inside her, hips jerking, muscles seizing with the force of it.
She comes with me, clinging hard, nails biting into my skin as her body trembles around mine. Each pulse of her orgasm milks me deeper, her thighs shaking against my hips, her breath breaking against my shoulder.
I hold her tight, eyes clamped shut, riding it out until there’s nothing left but the shudder of aftershocks.
The room falls quiet except for our ragged breaths. Her chest heaves against mine, my heart hammering in time with hers.
Then the silence of the house presses in—the tick of the clock, the walls too thin, her parents asleep just downstairs.
And reality slams back, brutal and cold. I’ve just crossed the one line I swore I never would.
As if she can read my mind, her hand slides to my jaw, forcing my eyes to hers. There’s no hesitation in her smile, only heat and challenge.
“We’re both adults, Warren,” she whispers, her breath still ragged. “It’s not wrong. Not if we don’t let it be.”
I let out a rough laugh, my body still thrumming from the aftershocks. “Hell, it felt a lot more right than wrong.”
Her grin sharpens, wicked and sure. “Exactly.”
I collapse beside her, sweat and guilt and ecstasy tangled into one. The family that saved me is just downstairs, trusting me, and I’ve broken that trust with the one person I can never have.
For the first time in my life, I’m terrified of what I want.