Chapter Six
Eric
Bug eyes?
Seriously?
I’d wanted to razz Yolanda more about her choice in men for my stepsister, but I let it slide.
Things have been nice with the family. Having been gone for so many years, I didn’t realize how much I missed being around them.
There were holes inside of me that were hollow and cold. Now they’re being filled with warmth.
We finish our goodbyes outside Smoke & Sugar and then hurry over to our vehicle.
While I drive us back, Clara happily chirps about the highlights of her day.
The snow is coming down heavier than before.
If it doesn’t let up soon, we’ll be snowed in because neither of our cars were made for this weather.
Snowed in with just Clara and Frosty?
Doesn’t seem all that bad if I’m being honest.
It’s nearly dark when we pull into the Moonlit Gables parking lot on the side where her unit is. We pass by a couple of units and I slow to a stop when a soccer ball rolls out across the road in front of me.
“Roll down your window,” Clara instructs.
“Who plays soccer during a snowstorm?” I ask with a frown as I mash the button.
A young guy, bundled up and grinning, saunters over to us. I’m guessing the two kids he was playing with are his, but I’m not liking the way he looks at Clara.
Is he interested in her? Does she like him? Is that why she wanted me to roll down the window?
“Hey, Riko,” Clara says when he approaches. “Soccer isn’t a year-round sport, you know.”
He smirks at her. “Says who?”
“Literally everyone.”
The taller of the two kids runs over to retrieve the ball and then heads back to the yard. When Riko notices Frosty, his grin widens. Awfully smiley guy.
“Who’s the cutie?”
“This is Frosty.” Clara lifts Frosty’s paw to make him wave. Then, she says to me, “And that’s Derek’s loud hot roomie.”
Riko barks out a laugh and I bristle.
She thinks he’s hot. I mean, he’s an attractive guy, but it doesn’t sit well with me.
Why not, man?
Ignoring those thoughts, I jut out my hand. “Eric. I’m Clara’s…”
Riko’s gloved hand meets mine and he shakes it. “Didn’t know she was seeing someone.”
I don’t correct him and neither does she. My stomach twists strangely.
“Where’s Derek?” she asks. “I didn’t see his truck.”
Riko playfully pouts. “Working. Those packages don’t deliver themselves, especially this close to Christmas.”
“You should have planned the wedding for this week,” she says with a laugh.
Wedding? To his roommate? What am I missing here?
“Right?” he cries out, smacking the roof of the car. “I said the same thing, but you know how my man is. Duty bound. A hero with a code of honor.”
“But he’s a delivery guy?” I ask, putting their words together to draw my own conclusion. “Seems serious for a job like that.”
Riko snorts. “He’s a serious guy. And, yes, he’s obsessed with outperforming at his job.” He grins again and gives me a saucy wink. “Not the only area of his life where he outperforms.”
Clara cackles with laughter. “You’re wild, Riko Valentine. Come by soon and we’ll hang out. Bring wine.”
I shudder at the thought of them hanging out and drinking together.
“Wouldn’t miss it,” he says, much to my dismay.
Riko finally walks away, making his way back over to the children who are thrilled. They begin squealing with excitement as he starts pelting them with snowballs.
“Those his kids?” I ask once the window is up and we’re headed to her house.
“They belong to our neighbor, Linda. Single mom. Riko loves them like siblings, though. He’s their unofficial gay uncle.”
“Gay. Hmph.”
I pull into a parking spot and shut off the car. Clara’s sculpted eyebrow is hiked up. “Is that a problem?”
“Nope,” I say, smirking at her. “Just means I don’t have to kick his ass now.”
“You were planning on doing it before, though?”
My gaze falls to her lips for far too long. Finally, I say, “When I thought he was flirting with you.”
Humiliation quells up inside me. I snag Frosty from Clara’s grip and hurry out of the car. Her car door slams behind me, but I’m already fumbling with the keys to get inside her unit.
Stupid, stupid man.
I basically just told her I was going to beat up some guy for crushing on her. She’s going to want to know why. Problem is, I don’t have that answer. It’s such a fucking mess in my head right now.
Once inside, I set Frosty down and make a beeline for my room. Maybe a few minutes alone will shake me out of this weird ass mood.
After I close the door, I change out of my clothes and into something more comfortable. Sweatpants and a T-shirt are my go-to loungewear. I’m still cold from spending the day outdoors and decide to crawl into bed to warm up.
Things with Clara are strange. There’s this electric buzz between us.
It’s always been there in some way or another, but since I came back from New York, it’s different.
Hotter, brighter, more intense. Like a live wire writhing around at my feet.
I’m soaked and my bare foot hovers dangerously above it.
What happens when I make contact?
Does everything blow up around me?
I’d touched her mouth earlier today. Ran my thumb along her succulent lip. My cock hardened as I was hit with an image of tasting her. I ached to kiss my stepsister. In front of everyone no less.
That shit can’t happen.
Ever.
Especially when I’d been so worried about seeing our family again, but it actually went better than I expected. Indulging in these fantasies about Clara is too weird. Too disrespectful to our parents.
It. Can’t. Happen.
I’m not sure how long I lie in bed berating myself, but eventually there’s a soft knock on the door.
“Yeah?” I call out, voice husky.
“A cute Hallmark Christmas movie is about to start. I made some hot cocoa. Come join me and Frosty.”
My mind screams at me to deny her—that I need to put some space between us. But, I sit up in bed, aching to make her happy in whatever way I can. “Be right there.”
“Yay,” she says through the door. “Frosty can’t wait.”
I hear her bedroom door close as she no doubt changes into something more comfortable. Because I’m a sicko with no chill, I immediately conjur up mental images of Clara pulling off her clothes. My cock plumps up in my sweatpants.
I’m an idiot.
And yet, I palm myself over my pants, needing to calm the desire burning hot through my veins.
I shove my sweats down until my cock breaks free. A hiss of air escapes me as I grab onto the unruly monster. Gritting my teeth, I stroke my length, trying to think of anything else besides Clara.
But, she’s the only thing on my mind as I squeeze my dick. Why can’t I think about my ex-girlfriend, Tabby, or that one hot chick from a Netflix show I like to watch? My brain is zeroed in on my stepsister’s pretty lips, bouncy breasts, and sexy ass.
Fuck.
I scramble to retrieve the lube from the bedside table and then squirt a gob onto my cock. As the liquid sluices over me, I slick my fist and cock with it. Biting into my bottom lip, I fuck my hand, imagining filthy scenes where I’m inside Clara instead.
It’s so fucking wrong.
Does it stop me? Do I lose my hard-on?
Hell no.
I jerk off like I’m thirteen and got my hands on internet porn for the first time. I’m unsure the last time I got laid, but I know for damn sure it’s been too long ago if I’m beating my fucking meat with these forbidden thoughts racing through my head.
Shamefully, this isn’t the first time I thought about Clara this way. It’s been something, over the years, I’ve shoved into a box in my mind. At one time, I’d thought about it so much, I ended up losing my virginity to one of her friends, just to stop thinking about it.
It worked. Sort of.
Having sex felt good and it was easy to get distracted when losing myself in a woman’s body.
But another woman’s body doesn’t appeal to me right now. I’m fixated on a particular one. Clara’s.
Filthy thoughts of her sliding down over the length of my cock has me grunting. I stroke faster and squeeze tighter, aching to come. Having my dick inside of her would feel like heaven. I imagine flipping her onto her back and fucking her roughly as I kiss her supple mouth.
It’s enough to break me.
I come with a guttural sound I can’t contain.
If she can hear me, I will die. Yet, I don’t stop jerking off until every last drop of cum has been wrung out of me.
My fantasies don’t stop with thoughts of fucking her.
Now, as my soul returns to my body, I lazily run my fingers through the cum on my stomach, wishing it were Clara’s tongue licking it up.
What kind of sick fuck are you, man?
Shame and the sound of Frosty yipping outside my bedroom door have me jolting upright, hunting down something to clean up with. I locate a discarded T-shirt and quickly swipe up the mess. Once I’m dressed and hopefully looking not so guilty, I open the door.
Clara, who scoops up Frosty, has changed into plaid pajama pants and a pink form-fitting long sleeved top with red Christmas bows sewn on. It’s over-the-top and ridiculous for sleepwear, but somehow she makes it looks sexy.
“You know he gets lonely if you shut your door,” she says, grinning at me. “Come on. The movie will start soon.”
I take Frosty from her and follow her down the stairs. Either she’s wearing a thong or no panties beneath her pants because the fabric is damn near painted to her ass, revealing no lines for anything under it. My cock throbs with appreciation.
Unbelievable.
Once in the living room, I hide my visceral reaction to her by tugging a furry Santa Claus blanket into my lap.
Frosty curls up between me and the arm of the couch.
Clara turns off all the lights aside from the ones lighting up the Christmas tree in the corner of the room before plopping down beside me.
Too close.
Too fucking close.
Her thigh warms mine and it’s distracting. I want to drag Frosty out of his spot and shove him between us, but the little guy is old and seems comfortable. I’d be a dick if I moved him.
Just have to figure out a way to control mine…
Thankfully, Clara hands me a mug of hot cocoa and it fixes everything, like old times.
I get sucked into the ridiculous story and end up rooting for the uptight woman from the city to fall for the guy in the small town, hoping she’ll leave her busy life behind to spend her days making scones with the regular Joe.
And when it’s over, I realize Clara has fallen asleep again, head nuzzled into my shoulder. While she sleeps, I allow myself a moment to admire how pretty she is. Her dark eyelashes fan across her apple cheeks and even in slumber, she smiles.
So beautiful.
Unable to stop myself, I stroke my fingers through her hair. So fucking soft. I’m trying to figure out how to extricate myself when her lashes flutter. Then, her eyes bore into me. The look she gives me is intense, fiery, hungry.
I’m imagining it.
Or maybe not.
It’s the same look she gave me at the Christmas market.
What would she do if I kissed her?
Her pink lips part and then she closes her eyes. She’s not sleeping, though. It’s an invitation. All I have to do is lean forward.
I brush my lips over hers, relishing in the gasp of shock she makes. Stupidly, I delve my tongue past her plump lips, aching to taste her. The moan she rewards me with is dizzying and addictive.
How else can I make her moan like that?
Can I make her beg and scream?
Dad would fucking kill me.
The thought comes out of nowhere but serves as a handful of icy-cold snowballs being shoved down my pants. Reality serves me a dose of nausea.
This can’t happen.
I jerk away from her and bolt like my ass is no fire.
Stupid, stupid, stupid.
Kissing Clara is wrong.
And yet, despite the horrible mistake, it’ll go down as the sweetest kiss I’ve ever had in my entire damn life.