Chapter Eight
Eric
I fucked up. Again. Right?
Why can’t I swipe the stupid grin off my face? Why do I keep sniffing my hand like a fucking animal?
I’m not remorseful. In fact, I’m acting like I just closed the deal of my life. I’m happy and flying high. I know I should be ashamed of myself, but it’s not happening.
I’ve washed my hands multiple times, and they smell like sugar cookie soap, but her scent is imbedded in my DNA now. I can smell her even with zero traces left. A shower couldn’t even erase her, though that’s probably because I used her body wash instead of mine.
Sick fucker.
Frosty yips at me and bounces on his hind legs. Whenever he does this, he’s so damn cute he gets whatever he wants. Since I’m baking in the kitchen, he wants a sweet treat. I snag one of the gingerbread men and break off a leg to toss at him.
“What do I do, Frosty?” I ask him over the sound of Bing Crosby crooning from Clara’s record player in the living room. “This is super fucked up, man.”
He barks at me, probably giving great advice but in a language I don’t understand. I reward him with the rest of the cookie. A knock on the back door has us both startling.
Frosty hightails it out of the kitchen to go hide, no doubt still traumatized by the dog catcher.
I’ll beat a man with a rolling pin before I let him take my dog.
When I reach the door, I’m relieved the man standing there isn’t the dog catcher, but it’s immediately replaced by dislike when I recognize the guy.
Travis the electrician.
Some guy Clara used to fuck.
Gritting my teeth, I open the door and glower at him. “Yeah?”
He flashes me a warm smile. “Hey, man. Came over to take a look at the snowman. Brought my tools.”
I glance down at the small toolbox in his grip. The only reason I let this guy in is because by him fixing the snowman, it’ll make Clara happy. I don’t have to enjoy his presence, though.
“It’s over here by the front door,” I say, gesturing for him to follow me. “Want something to drink?”
Travis sniffs the air. For a brief moment I wonder if he can smell her. I stiffen, fisting my hands, until he grins.
“You making cookies? Can I have one of those?”
I’ll allow it.
With a grunt, I nod and leave him to check on the newest batch I’m making. Frosty scurries into the kitchen and sits by my feet. He’s such a good boy. We really lucked out on finding him.
I pull out the cookie sheet from the oven and transfer the cookies to a rack to cool.
Once I locate a Christmas platter, I plate a few already cooled iced snowman sugar cookies and grab a beer from the fridge.
By the time I return to the living room, Travis already has the snowman half torn apart.
I hope he can put that shit back together again.
“Here,” I say as I set the refreshments down on the coffee table near him. “Well, how bad is it?”
“Thanks, my man.” He pauses to cram a cookie in his mouth. “That’s fucking amazing. You made those?”
“Yup.”
He devours another one and then says, “The wiring is cheap, but I can easily replace the area that’s come loose.
You’ll want to unplug this thing before bed or if you leave.
Not entirely sure it’s the safest, but I’ll do my best with what I have to work with.
Most stuff like this is made with shitty parts. Total fire hazard.”
I go back to work in the kitchen, and shortly, he saunters in to steal more cookies.
“All done?” I ask, arching a brow.
“Works like new.” He grins at me. “If you have any extras, Savvy would die if I brought her some.”
I chuckle, remembering the girl from Smoke & Sugar, and set to loading him up with a freezer bag full of cookies. I’m about to send him on his way when my phone rings.
Clara.
“Hey,” I say as I answer, putting her on speaker. “Travis is here. Came to fix your snowman and eat all my cookies.”
She laughs. “Thanks, Travis.”
“No problem. Your boy’s hooking me up with the goods.”
“He’s awesome like that,” she says, a smile in her voice. “Hey, actually, do you think you could do me another favor?”
I bristle, not liking all the favors this guy has to give her. It should be me.
“The weather’s gotten worse. My car slid off the road and into a ditch—”
“Clara!” I bark out. “You could have led with that. I’m getting my shoes on now. Where are you?”
“I’m a couple miles from the house. I’ll send you a pin. But your little car won’t be any better than mine. Your truck four-wheel-drive, Travis?”
“Yes, ma’am. I’ll drive Eric to come get you. Give us ten minutes.”
I bolt past him to throw on shoes and grab my coat. “Stay in your car with the heater on,” I command to Clara. “It’s too nasty to be outside.”
“I already tried to dig myself out. Didn’t work.”
I grit my teeth and shake my head. “We’re on our way.”
As promised, ten minutes later, we’re pulling up in Travis’s truck to where Clara’s car hazard lights are flashing. Before he even gets the truck stopped, I climb out and race over to her. I fling open her door and yank her out into my arms. She hugs me tight and giggles.
“What’s so funny?” I growl. “You’re in danger.”
“Danger?” She tilts her head up and smiles. “Nah, I knew you’d save me.”
I rub my gloved hand up and down her back. Now that she’s safely in my arms, I feel like I can breathe again.
“Go sit in the truck,” I instruct. “I’ll get your car turned off.”
A few minutes later, we’re on our way back, Clara sitting between us. I don’t like that her thigh touches his, but we’re in closed quarters and there’s no avoiding it. I’m grateful when he pulls up to the front of her unit so we can escape his presence.
“Thanks, Travis,” Clara says. “I owe you one.”
He chuckles. “Consider it a wash. Those cookies are amazing. I’d pay good money for them.”
I open the door and slide out of the truck before offering Clara my arm. She hooks her arm with mine and we make our way inside her townhouse. Frosty yips and runs around in circles, bursting with excitement. We both missed her.
It’s not until we’ve pulled off our outerwear and shoes that a sliver of awkwardness pierces the air between us.
I got my stepsister off at her work. Devoured her sexy mouth. Ached to do more than touch her clit. It was like being in a fever dream, a fantasy come to life.
And now?
Well, this is fucking reality, and we have to face what we did.
“I’ll make you some dinner,” I tell her, clearing my throat. “Go, uh, shower or whatever.”
Her eyebrows pinch together as she studies me intently. “You okay?”
I want to strip you and split you apart with my cock. Fuck, no, I’m not okay.
“Yep,” I say tightly. “Go get cozy. You had a long day at work.”
She nods, offering me a sweet, sexy smile that makes my blood run hot. “Be right back.”
Since we have leftover grilled chicken and sausage in the fridge, I set to making chicken and sausage quesadillas with gooey muenster cheese.
For our dipping sauce, I mix up some apricot jelly with a bit of hot sauce.
I’d grabbed some stuff to make a salad, so I also whip up a quick one along with my doctored ranch spiked with chili powder dressing.
My favorite part of cooking is displaying it on the plate in such a way it looks like a piece of art.
Edible art. I fan the quesadilla slices in a half-moon and dribble the sauce across the tops of them, garnishing them with a little cilantro.
Clara has cute Santa soup bowls that make for a perfect salad bowl.
By the time she comes down with her wet hair piled in a messy bun, dinner is served.
“You spoil me,” she exclaims, grinning at the spread on the table. “This is amazing, Eric. Thank you.”
We sit down to eat and Clara’s groans of pleasure damn near do me in. It’s difficult to eat when your cock is hard as fuck in your pants.
I desperately want to talk about what happened at the salon today. Did she like it? Does she regret it? Does she want to do it again? I would love to get her naked, fully this time, but my conscience is berating me.
Wrong, wrong, so wrong.
It’s a dirty little secret right now, but the more we get swept up in this, the harder it will be to quit. And we have to quit. It can’t progress into a full-on relationship. She’s my stepsister. Our parents would lose their shit.
Dinner sours in my gut and a wave of nausea hits me.
What are we doing?
“You’re being quiet,” Clara says, voice soft. “Are you regretting what happened earlier?”
There’s a thread of vulnerability in her tone and I hate it. I don’t want her to ever think there’s something wrong with her or that she’s the reason for my doubt.
“No,” I growl, boring my eyes into hers. “That was incredible. You are incredible. Sexy as fuck.”
Her lips quirk up on one side. “It felt really good. I was shaky all day, still reeling from that orgasm.”
My cock jolts at her words. “Yeah?”
“Hell yeah.” She grins and nudges my foot with hers under the table. “Did you like touching me? Kissing me?”
“Of course I fucking did. You’re so…you. Hot, amazing, sweet, perfect.”
Her smile falls. “But…”
The pause in the air makes my stomach roil again. “Clara.”
“Eric.” Her lips press together and she straightens her spine. “Be direct, please. I don’t want to dance around the truth.”
I’ve always loved this about her. No mincing words with this woman.
“It’s not right,” I choke out, feeling like a total dick. “We’re related.”
She barks out a harsh laugh. “Through marriage, not blood, Eric. Is that your issue? Too incestuous for you?”
Bile creeps up my throat. “No. I don’t care about that. It’s… What will our parents think?”
This has the hurt bleeding out of her and concern taking its place. She chews on her bottom lip, eyebrows crashing together, as she considers my question. Finally, she sighs and nods. “They wouldn’t be happy.”
Understatement of the century.
“Dad would murder me,” I tell her. “Yolanda would hate me.”
She scoffs. “It’s not just you. Do you think your dad would murder me too?”
“Of course not,” I bark out. “He adores you.”
Her dark eyebrow arches. “So you think there are different rules for you? Like you’re more at fault with this than me?”
I shove my plate away, no longer hungry. “I see your point, but I still feel sick about it. Like I’m doing something I can’t undo. Something that has the power to destroy my family. I love you too much for that to happen.”
She shifts and then her foot is on my thigh. I hiss as her foot rubs against my dick. “If you were sick about it, you wouldn’t be hard. I bet, like me, you’ve been waiting all day to be alone again.”
I grunt, closing my eyes as I relish her touch on my cock. “All damn day.”
“Thought so,” she purrs, a playful lilt in her voice. “No one is saying we have to announce what we’re doing to the world. It feels good. We’re both lonely and consenting adults. Can’t we just let it play out? Maybe it’s nothing more than a phase. When it’s over, we can go back to normal.”
I’m intoxicated by her lies.
We both know there’s no stopping this once we get the ball rolling. It’ll go faster and faster, gaining momentum and growing bigger and bigger, like a snowy avalanche. It’ll destroy everything in its wake, and in the end, we’ll be buried by it.
Catastrophic.
Painful.
Crushing.
And my stupid ass knows this.
Yet…
“Yeah,” I croak out. “You’re right. Maybe just let it play out. It’ll be fine.”
Nothing about this will be fine.
I’m a great liar, especially to myself.