6. Malia
SIX
Malia
My phone buzzes against the vanity, nearly lost among scattered makeup products. The screen lights up with a simple message from Walt.
Walt: After dinner. My place.
His words set my body on fire. The mascara wand trembles in my grip, leaving a black smudge beneath my eye.
My fingers tangle in the blow dryer cord, nearly yanking it from the wall. Hot air blasts my face as I desperately try to tame my mane. The long, dark waves refuse to cooperate, falling in a tumbled mess around my shoulders where they spill down my back. Like they’ve been gripped by strong hands, twisted around forceful fingers…
The thought sends heat pooling low in my belly. I switch off the dryer, letting the sudden silence fill the bathroom. Steam clings to the mirror, but as I wipe it clean, I pause. The woman staring back at me looks—different. Changed.
My eyes are darker somehow, heavy with secrets. My lips, still tender from Walt’s savage kiss, seem fuller. More sensual. The mark on my neck stands out against my flushed skin—a badge of possession I can’t quite hide.
My phone vibrates against the counter. Another message from Walt.
Walt: Wear a dress. No panties. You won’t be needing them.
The phone slips from my fingers, clattering against the marble countertop. The sound echoes off the bathroom tiles, matching the thundering of my heart.
Heat floods my core, my inner muscles clenching at his commanding tone. Even through text, his dominance makes me weak. I grip the edge of the vanity, cool stone anchoring me as memories of his touch ghost across my skin.
“Focus,” I whisper to my reflection. The makeup wipe shakes in my hand as I clean up the mascara smudge. I’ve never been this unsteady putting on makeup before. Never felt this electric anticipation humming through my veins.
I stumble to my dresser, yanking open the drawer containing my most intimate things. The cotton briefs I usually wear suddenly seem childish. Without conscious thought, my fingers seek out the black silk and lace I bought on a whim but never dared to wear.
The delicate fabric slides up my trembling legs. Defiance and desire war in my chest—I’m not bold enough not to wear panties, but the whisper of silk against my sensitized flesh feels decadent.
Forbidden.
My phone rings—Malikai’s ringtone breaking through the tension.
“Hey, Bro.”
“Hey, Sissy, I’m early. Traffic was lighter than expected.” Papers rustle in the background. “I’m going to swing by and pick you up. Which building are you in again?”
Ice floods my veins. “The east barracks.” My voice sounds strange and breathy. “But you don’t need to?—”
“Nonsense. I’m already at the gate. Security waved me through.” Car doors slam in the background. “Be there in five.”
The line goes dead before I can protest.
Five minutes.
My hands shake as I fumble with the lipstick, nearly dropping it into the sink. The woman in the mirror looks panicked now—half made-up, hair still damp from a rushed shower.
The contents of my makeup bag scatter across the counter as I search for concealer. There’s no time to cover the mark Walt left on my neck. No time to calm my racing pulse or cool my flushed skin.
Malikai will take one look at me and know something’s wrong. My analytical, genius brother reads people like quantum equations and will see right through me.
The dormitory buzzer sounds, echoing through my apartment like a warning bell.
My badges jingle as I snatch them from the hook, the metal biting into my palm. One last glance in the hallway mirror shows a woman on the edge—caught between innocence and awakening. Between the good girl I’ve always been and the woman Walt sees when he looks at me.
The buzzer buzzes again, more insistent this time. Malikai waiting impatiently, unaware his little sister is about to step into a world of dark pleasure and savage claiming after a quiet dinner with him.
I reach for the door handle, my pulse thundering in my ears. The cool metal grounds me, but only for a moment. My hand freezes, phone heavy in my other palm. Should I text Walt back? Let him know I’m disobeying his command about the panties? My inner muscles clench at the thought of his punishment.
No. Focus.
This is dinner with Malikai. I can always ditch the panties after dinner.
Walt and his dark promises can wait.
I square my shoulders, adjusting the drape of my dress. The silk whispers against my skin as I step out of the barracks and into the humid evening air.
My heart stops because two men stand in the parking lot.
Malikai, looking professorial in his blazer and horn-rimmed glasses, gestures animatedly. And beside him—tall, dark, and radiating lethal grace—Walt stands with a cocky nonchalance.
The smirk curling his lips says he knows exactly what his texts did to me. His eyes rake over my body, lingering on the hem of my dress as if he can see straight through the silk to the lace panties that lie beneath. Heat floods my cheeks.
“There’s my girl!” Malikai wraps me in a bear hug. “Though I’m hurt you didn’t tell me about your boyfriend.”
“Boyfriend?” My mouth goes dry. The word echoes as I pull back from Malikai’s embrace. “I…” The protest dies on my lips as Walt steps forward, his presence overwhelming my senses.
“That’s my fault.” Walt’s voice holds a hint of amusement. “I didn’t know your brother was in town. When I stopped by to surprise you for dinner, he invited me to join you.”
“But…” The word catches in my throat as Walt’s gaze locks with mine. Dark heat burns in his eyes, a look that makes my knees weak and my core clench.
Walt’s hand settles on my lower back, fingers splaying possessively against the silk. His touch brands me through the thin fabric, sending sparks of electricity racing up my spine.
“Salvatore’s is perfect.” His thumb traces small circles against my back. “I’ve heard great things about their wine selection.”
My brother launches into a discussion about Italian wines, but I can’t focus on his words—not with Walt’s fingers dancing along my spine and the memory of his texts burning in my mind.
His lips brush my ear, his breath warm against my skin. “Did you get my texts?”
I manage a small nod, my pulse racing at his proximity.
“And did you do what I asked?” His voice drops lower, rougher, as his fingers trail down my spine to rest just above the curve of my ass.
The silk and lace beneath my dress suddenly feel like the most dangerous secret I’ve ever kept. My breath catches as his fingers drift lower, a silent question that demands an answer.