Prologue
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Too good to be true.
Wynnter
The night of August and Alister’s not-quite wedding…
“Oh—” December swears, the coarse word harsh and unfamiliar on her honied lips. Glazed eyes on my raw mouth, she begins sloppily wiping at the corners of my stubble covered in her lipstick.
Dazed, I lift my hand to her mouth, her lips. The smudges that have traveled off the plump, soft, usually pink little teases captivate me. How long have I dreamed of this? How long have I fantasized the ways I might mess her up just like this—if only I could be given that honor?
She’s…beautiful. Warm. A perfect weight atop me.
“This is why I don’t wear red. Such a mess,” she murmurs, shifting back in my lap to take me in. Ravishing, a smile overwhelms her. “You look so pretty, Wynn-Wynn.”
I swallow, and my hold on her thigh tightens, raking her dangerously closer as I press my thumbprint to her bottom lip, the curve of her precious smile. “Do I?” I rumble, scanning her tousled hair, her ruffled clothes, the perfect, glorious mess I’ve made of her. “You look drunk.”
Her head tilts, and the waterfall of her long, dark, straight hair brushes against my wrist. “Am I?”
“Yeah. Very.”
Her lashes flutter. “Who gave me alcohol?” Her head shakes. “I’m not allowed to have it, you know.”
Yeah, I know. I know big time all things she’s not allowed to have—because I’m one of them.
“You got it yourself,” I tell her. Because my sister’s not-quite husband booked an open bar in my backyard tonight for his little scheme of wooing her into wedding him—via nefarious means. But. Anyway. As my sister, August, might say, That’s a different story.
Presently, December and I are not partaking in the festivities of the reception. Presently, I’m being accosted in my very own bedroom by an angel in dark lace.
Eyes wide, perfect little December says, “Why would I do that?”
I let my mind drift back to the moment, because I was watching, because I am always watching December.
Normally, it’s involuntary, but when my almost-brother-in-law’s schemes put her in the garb of a dark enchantress, the involuntary glances become rather voluntary lingers.
Locating the details in the recesses of my mind on how December got herself sloshed, I say, “After you finished going around with a napkin asking people to sign some weird petition, you went to the open bar. Then I believe you asked for a line of shots, said yolo, and downed them all in one go.”
In the aftermath of that poor decision, her face pinched up with regret, but it was too late to change her mind or even consider using it again. She hit tipsy like a train, and she’d have fallen over if I hadn’t been there to catch her.
Genuine surprise touches her pretty blue eyes. “How out of character.”
I arch a brow. “Is it?”
“Isn’t it?”
Not if she’s upset. Which she might be if her parents suggested that tonight’s event would be a waste of time and beneath her, or if they tried to keep her from it entirely.
After all, as long as I’ve known December, she’s not been allowed out after dark.
Chances are, her prissy parents only gave in after she told them that Alister’s a proper millionaire.
Angry December is impulsive December.
And, apparently, drunk December is siren December, luring me past all my determination and shattering all my great will power.
Siren December pushes her hair back, and sultry doesn’t begin to describe her expression as she leans in for me, pressing her soft body against my chest. “Do you think of me as a bad girl, Wynn?”
At that, heat simmers in my gut. I frame her perfect round cheek in my hand. “Not at all.”
She nestles against my palm as though my touch is all she has ever wanted in her entire life. There’s a good chance I lose my heart to her for the thousandth time.
I shouldn’t.
I know I shouldn’t.
I should have shut this down the second she turned on me after her dewy, drunk eyes met mine and she said she didn’t feel so good before asking me to help her to a bathroom.
I shouldn’t have let her ignore the bathroom, push me into my room, or sit on my lap.
I’m a big guy. There’s no way December would have gotten me anywhere without my compliance.
And, yet, here I am.
Hand on her cheek. Hand on her thigh. Taste of her in my mouth.
Mind in the gutter, toying with even more things I know I shouldn’t do
Stretching to kiss her soft neck, I close my eyes and murmur, “You’re a good, obedient girl.”
She melts, like snow, in my hands, and whispers, “For you, I would be.”
“I know it, Dece.”
“I’d do anything for you, Wynn.” Desperation tangles in her tone, and I feel it reflected in my chest, because desperation is exactly what I’ve felt for her every last time I have ever seen her.
She continues, pleading, “Anything at all. I love you.” Her arms circle me, tightening.
“I love you so much. And I want you. More than anything, I want you. I dream of you. I daydream of you. You’re in my head constantly.
All the time. Always, always, always. August writes her stories; I live in mine.
Pictures and ideas plague me every day, and they’re all about you.
” A frail breath fills her, and she sniffles.
My heart lodges itself in my throat. “Why…haven’t you told me before?” Why haven’t you picked me over your demanding, commandeering, rotten, selfish, vain, terrible parents?
“I’m just a kid to you. Your little sister’s friend. There’s no chance here. But—” She swears, and her hands dig into my body. “—the things I want to do to you. The things I’d let you do to me. You’d forget completely… You’d see me as a woman.”
“Dece…I’ve never thought of you like that.”
She whispers, voice soft, “I know. But…you could.” Her eyes glisten with tears.
“I’d be anything for you, Wynn.” Her fingers cover mine, then skate down my wrist, tugging the tattered ensemble of the outfit I’m in away from my racing pulse.
Her lips cover my heartbeat, claiming me as her own.
“Tell me what to do. Tell me what might change your mind.”
“No.” I push her back, grip her chin, watch a teardrop fall, and wince. “Dece, no. I mean.” I swallow, wet my raw lips. “I have never thought of you as a child or as another kid sister. Ever.”
Shock widens her damp eyes. “You…haven’t?”
“No.”
“Then…”
Pained, I draw myself to her tortured mouth, kiss, nip, groan. A swear leaves me. “Oh, Dece. What do you think we’re doing right now? You think I’d let someone I think of as a kid sister do this to me?”
“I…” Her lashes flutter. “I don’t know. Everything’s…very fuzzy.”
“Oh, sweetheart.” I comb my fingers through her hair. “Have you ever had alcohol before?”
Her head turns, hitches, then shakes. “It hurt to swallow, but I was upset. Or something. I don’t know. So I forced my way through it.”
An act of rebellion. It makes enough sense. She managed to escape her parents’ cage for one night. Of course everything they’ve never let her near safely would become a bad decision now.
I might officially be the worst, taking advantage of a woman who has never once had the opportunity to learn what alcohol could do to her. And, yet, I’m not sure I’m strong enough to stop. If this woman’s weight leaves my lap even a minute sooner because I make it, I will kill myself.
This is where she belongs. This is where she’s always belonged. With me. With someone willing to give her choices and chances and handle the weight of whatever she decides. She belongs with someone who can protect her. She belongs with someone strong enough to let her live.
Even if it’s terrifying. Even if she might get herself pass-out drunk in her freedom. Even if…
It occurs to me that I met this woman when she was a sheltered fourteen-year-old. My chest tightens. “Dece, sweetheart,” I mumble, low.
Attentive, she leans in, close, love-struck and pliant. “Yes, Wynn?”
I trace my thumb along her jaw. “Have you ever kissed someone before?”
Heat fills her face, and she cuts her gaze away. Fiddling with the frayed edges of my dark cloak, she murmurs, “N-no. Not outside my dreams… C-could you really tell so easily?” Her shoulders bunch, and she sinks. “I was terrible, wasn’t I?”
Terrible? No. I had assumed the urgency was on account of the alcohol, though, not…just a sincere lack of practice. I cuss, long and low, and find it very hard to breathe.
“I’m so sorry,” she says, and tears trace down her cheeks. “I can learn. You can teach me. I’ll commit exactly what you like to my heart and soul. I’ll—”
“Hush,” I command. Swallowing guilt and shame, I tap my thumb to her mouth, tug her plump lip down, and soak her in.
She’s crying over me. She’s given her first kiss—and her second, and her third, and her fourth, fifth, sixth—to me.
Opening her mouth, I lean in and claim her tongue, forcing tiny sounds to leave her.
She gasps for air. “Wy—”
“Shh.” I kiss, give her the smallest break, and watch her struggle to fill her lungs. “You’ll do anything for me, won’t you?”
Breathless and flushed, she promises, “Anything. Please.”
“Live with me. Leave your—” I swear. “—parents’ house and live with me. Let’s see how far your devotion really goes for a little while. And, then, if you can stomach it, let me take care of you forever.”
“Take care of me forever?” she echoes.
“Become my wife.” I lift her chin on my finger, watch a swallow move her throat. “I’ll teach you everything you dream about and more. All you have to do is prove you can tolerate me. What’d’ya say, baby? You up for it?”
“Yes,” she blurts. “Please. A million times yes.”
I hum. “Okay, sweetheart. I’ll help you move in tomorrow, then, afternoon.” I scan her. “Late afternoon. You have much you want to bring?”
Her head shakes. “No. No, I hardly need anything. I’ll pack a bag and a few boxes tonight. You mean it? Are you serious?”
I kiss the salted corner of her eye, catching more tears on my tongue when they fall. “I’ve never been more serious about anything in my life. I’ll switch the mattresses tonight.”
Confusion settles in her pretty eyes. “Huh?”
I latch my fingers around her neck and revel in the way she goes still for me, expectant, waiting. “Alister used your—” I swear. “—bed. You’re not sleeping somewhere another guy has. I’ll put my mattress in your room. You can use it until it becomes ours.”
Eyes wide, she frees a slurred cuss.
“Yeah, baby?” I murmur. “Is that how that makes you feel?”
Her face heats further, beet red and beautiful. “I love you.” She links her fingers around my wrist, asking me to hold her tighter and shuddering when I oblige. “I love you so much.”
“Yeah.” I taste her. “I love you, too.”
With that, she crumples in my arms, sobbing until she falls asleep.