Siblings?
Last night, he had his dick inside of me.
We arenotsiblings.
My spine straightens with the faint skim of Cross’s jeans rubbing against my bare leg again. My attention flies beneath the table, where he inches a little closer, unbeknownst to everyone around us.
What is he doing?
“Stepsiblings,” Cross corrects, as if the wordstepis going to excuse what we did the previous night.
“Right.” My dad nods to the waiter, a young college student, if I had to guess, as he comes by with a pitcher of water.
He tops off my father’s and then moves to Sofia's. His eyes dip past Sofia’s face to her cleavage, and I roll my eyes. Just when I think I’m the only one who notices, Cross’s leg presses tightly against mine, his entire body stiffening.
I shift my eyes from his clenched jaw to my father, who is seemingly glaring at the waiter as he makes his way to me.
I glance upward with a polite smile after he pours water into my cup. “Thank you.”
He grins at me, his lip lifting on the side, and then just like he did with Sofia, his lazy gaze moves downward to get an eyeful of my breasts.
My father clears his throat.
Cross growls quietly.
My stomach twists, the slightest tinge of apprehension hitting the back of my throat. Before, when a guy would make a pass at me or let his gaze wander below my chin, I’d take it as a compliment.
But after Nick, I’ve come to fear it.
I don’t exhale again until Cross’s palm lands on my thigh. I instantly settle, my shoulders relaxing, my lungs loosening.
“That’s enough,” Cross bites out.
“I agree,” my father says.
An awkward silence fills the table as the waiter scurries away. Cross doesn’t let up on my thigh, but his attention is halfway across the restaurant, glaring in the direction of the kitchen where the waiter disappeared to.
The tension is rising. His shoulders are squared, the sound of his teeth moving back and forth along one another loud enough for our parents to hear. So I do what I shouldn’t and send hima lifeline. I gradually slip my hand into his, and he eagerly laces our fingers together.
He’s showing all his cards, and if he’s not careful, someone will start to read them.
I squeeze his hand gently, silently pleading with him to chill.
Breathe, Cross.
To my surprise, he follows my lead. A slow breath leaves his mouth, and he squeezes my hand back. Not once, but twice.
My dad’s faint chuckle brings me back to the present. I pull on my hand, but Cross doesn’t let up. He keeps his fingers clamped onto mine.
“Your mom was right,” my dad says.
Cross appears cool, calm, and collected now. “About?”
“She said that Scarlett would be safe with you. That’s why, when I heard about the housing situation, I was more than eager for you to move in with her.”
The slightest bit of annoyance slips in at the idea of anyone thinking I can’t fend for myself, but the truth is…I can’t.
Not yet, anyway.
