Chapter Two
Dawson
Breaking into Ava's place probably isn't my finest moment, but ask me if I give a shit. The answer is no. She's standing in front of me, stark naked, every inch of her perfect body just…right there.
"Fuck me running," I breathe, my cock pressing up against my fly like he's trying to rip through the zipper.
My fantasies were right about the way her whole body flushes pink.
They were right about how fucking soft and sweet she is, too.
Her cherry nipples are hard little buds, just begging for my mouth.
Her hips were made for my hands. And that little slice of heaven between her legs? Yeah, that was made for me, too.
Every inch of her is mine.
There's no goddamn way she's dating her neighbor. Hell no. I'm shutting that shit down right now.
"Dawson!" she shrieks, bending to snatch her towel from the floor. "Get out of my bedroom!"
"Nah, your bed is comfortable as fuck." I make a show of getting comfortable on her pillows, my eyes still locked on her as she hurriedly wraps the towel around her again. "I think I'll stay."
"You think you'll…" She trails off, breathing like she's contemplating acts of violence, which is just fucking cute coming from the woman who can't even kill the spiders that scare the shit out of her. "You broke into my house."
"Janice gave me a key." I dig my keyring out of my pocket, holding up the key to her place. "See?"
"Oh, my god." She lets go of the towel to press her hands to her cheeks, and the towel immediately starts sliding again. I grin when she squeals and grabs for it again, keeping it in place. "My own mother helped you break in?"
"She thought you'd need someone to check in on you while they're gone." I look her up and down, desperately trying not to reach for my cock. "Looks like she was right. You didn't even know I was here."
"I swear to God, if you don't get out right now, I'll…I'll…"
"What?" I ask, unable to resist taunting her.
That's the problem with us. I can't ever resist taunting her. I live in a permanent state of arousal around her. And she's so fucking cute when she's riled up… Can you blame a motherfucker for wanting to make a goddess squirm right alongside him?
I live for the way she looks at me like she doesn't know if she wants to praise Jesus for making me or fight the Devil for bringing me into her life.
She's supposed to be my stepsister, the one woman on the planet who is off-limits. And yet…she's the one who keeps my cock aching. Every damn time I see her, I want to bend her over and fuck her until my name is the only one she remembers.
I've tried to do the right thing and keep her at a distance for her sake. I've tried like hell to pretend I feel nothing. It's what a good stepbrother should do, right? Ignore the fact that he wants to fuck his kid into his new stepsister? Except…that is precisely what I want to do.
The longer I try to avoid reality, the more I want it. Every time I see her, I want it. Every time she looks at me like I'm the best thing she's ever seen, I want it. Every minute of every day, I want it.
It's driving me out of my fucking mind.
"I don't know!" she cries. "I'm naked, and I can't think."
A deep laugh rumbles from my lips. I love how honest she is. Even when she doesn't mean to be, the truth just spills out, like she can't contain it.
"Feel free to put clothes on if you'd like," I murmur, lacing my fingers together behind my head. "I'll wait."
"I am not getting dressed in front of you," she hisses.
"Why not?" I cock a brow at her, smirking. "I've already seen it all. It won't hurt my feelings if you lose the towel."
She's breathing hard again, her tits heaving under that thin piece of terry cloth. "You're disgusting!"
"Why?"
"I'm your stepsister," she growls, her cheeks pink.
I hate that reminder and don't hate it enough. Does it bother me? Fuck no. But it bothers her. And as I've come to learn intimately since meeting her a year ago, the last person on the planet I want to embarrass or humiliate is her.
"It's not like we're blood, Ava," I remind her gently. "Until a month ago, we weren't even related at all."
"That's beside the point."
"No, I think it's the whole point. You've been avoiding me since the wedding."
"Whatever. Have not."
Ava is a shit liar. She can't help but squirm anytime she lies, like she's physically incapable of being dishonest and still at the same time. It's how I know she wants me just as badly as I want her.
Unfortunately for me, she actually gives a shit what people think.
And a whole helluva lot of people think the two of us dating is fucked up.
The last thing I want to do is force her into something she isn't comfortable with, especially when my whole life is public.
Most days, I don't even have to do anything noteworthy to get people talking.
It comes with the territory when you're one of the highest-paid wide receivers in the league. But goddamn.
I'm tired of keeping my distance just to protect her. I'm tired of pretending we both don't want the things we want. And there isn't a chance in hell I'm letting some other motherfucker have her when she should be mine.
I don't give a shit what anyone else has to say about it. She's mine. I won't stand around and let some other asshole swoop in and steal her from me.
"How's your neighbor?"
"What? Who?"
I smirk, which seems to jog her memory.
"Oh! Um, he's fine. Great. Never been better," she squeaks, adjusting the towel again. "I'm supposed to see him later, so you really should go now."
"Nah, I'm good. Can't wait to meet him." I cross my ankles, settling in. "We'll swap stories. You ever tell him about the time you threw up in Janice's purse on the boat last year?"
"You are not staying here," she says, fuming.
"I am."
"No, you aren't!" she cries. "You have your own stupidly giant house. Go there."
"Can't."
She throws her hands up, exasperated, and damn near loses her towel again.
"Baby, honestly, just get dressed," I say, chuckling when she has to grab it again to keep it in place.
She shoots me a murderous glare. "Why can't you go home, Dawson?"
"Easy." I haul myself from her bed, sauntering across the room toward her.
I expect her to back away from me, but she lifts her chin and stands her ground, her cheeks blazing.
I want to trace that blush all the way to her pussy.
With my tongue. Instead, I stop in front of her, so close I smell her strawberry shampoo and see the goosebumps rising all over her body.
She shivers, her pretty blue eyes darkening around the edges. The way her lips part slightly has my balls aching.
Christ. I want her covered in me—in bites and kisses and cum until she can't deny what's really between us.
"I can't go home because you aren't there," I say softly, reaching out to tap her nose.
She whimpers, the sweetest little sound I've ever heard.
I don't want to kiss her. I want to fucking devour her.
"Get dressed, Half Pint," I say instead, striding for her bedroom door before I remove that towel with my teeth. "I'm cooking."
"Great," she mutters behind me. "Now, he's going to poison me."
I pause in the doorway, glancing at her over my shoulder. "Why the fuck would I poison you?"
"Because you hate me."
"What the fuck?" I scowl at her. "Who the fuck told you that?"
She blinks, clearly caught off guard. "I…"
I turn, striding back toward her. "I don't hate you, sweetness," I say softly when I'm standing in front of her. "Never have."
"Oh." She gulps. "You're always cranky. I just…"
I lean forward, pressing my lips to her cheek. "You aren't ready for that conversation, Ava."
"What conversation?"
"The one where I tell you how goddamn hard it is to walk around with my cock throbbing all day, every day because of you.
" I nuzzle my face against her throat for a split second, unable to resist when she whimpers again.
And then I pull back, trying like hell to give her a little space.
"Get dressed and meet me in the kitchen. "
When I glance back at the door, she's still standing right there, her feet rooted to the floor, her hand pressed to her cheek like she can still feel my lips there.
I groan softly, adjusting my dick.
This is going to be a long fucking night.