She’s wearing tiny shorts that barely cover anything, and is bent over a large sheet of paper in a downward-dog style pose, showing off every inch of her glorious ass to me. My cock instantly swells, and I bite my cheek hard in a failed attempt to calm it down.
Her oversized T-shirt slips off one shoulder. No bra. The light from the window traces every curve of her waist and hips.
Just go. You see she’s safe, so just go. Get out of here and go back to your apartment.
There’s no excuse for what I’m doing now. I’m not like one of those men at the club. I don’t want to hurt her. I want to protect her. More than that.
I want to make her life special. Show her just how special she is, because lord knows she has no idea. Not yet. She doesn’t even understand how great of an artist she is. Her work should be in galleries. People should be buying prints from her. But she hides it away here, in her room, for no one else to see.
I turn to go, but my legs don’t listen. I can’t. I’m starting to lose control. “Eliza,” I say, but she doesn’t hear me. I raise my voice. “Eliza!”
Startled, she nearly jumps out of her skin as she scrambles to turn around. When she sees me, the fear falls from her eyes but is replaced by something different. Anger? Or relief?
“What were you doing?” she asks, sounding annoyed. “Spying on me?”
“It’s my house too, you know,” I counter, stepping into her room.
“Is it? Because as far as I know, you got yourself a new place to live.” Her words sting. She’s right; I did. But I’ve never been told that I don’t live here any longer—that this isn’tmy house.“Why are you even here?”
She stands, and my eyes follow her hips as she moves across her room. They sway with such feminine energy that I can’t help but lick my lips. Her thighs, completely exposed in those shorts, have me hypnotized. What would it be like to taste her? To drag my tongue up those thighs and make her cry my name?
Snapping out of it, I avert my eyes and act like I’m checking out the molding on her door for any flaws. “I came to check on you. Make sure you were okay from last night.”
“Oh, is that right?” she scoffs, going back to her drawing. I thought that maybe now that she knew I was here, she’d take a more modest pose—maybe sit cross-legged or put some pajamabottoms on. But nope. She just bends right over that big drawing again, arching her back at me.
Only a tiny piece of soft fabric covers the slit between her legs, sending my imagination spiraling. I swallow hard as my heartrate increases. I flex my hands by my sides, desperate to get a grip on her. To explore every inch of her curvaceous perfection.
“And to remind you that you’re not going out with Mara again,” I add, jealousy flaring in me as I remember all those men with their eyes on her. My jaw clenches tightly at the thought of another incident like the one with Tony. I should have buried that prick six feet under.
Without turning to me, Eliza replies, “Oh, really? So you think you can move out, be gone for a year, and then come back and tell me what to do?”
My gut knots, and I stride deeper into the room, circling around so I stand towering over her. Still, she won’t look at me. Reaching down, I grab her by the arm and lift her easily to her feet. She gasps as I press her up against her desk, sending pencils and pens scattering to the floor. “Oh, I don’t?” I ask, my voice tense. “Watch me.”
She opens her mouth to reply, but no words come. When she jerks against my grip, it’s almost like she’s not even trying. Shaking my head, I stare deeply into her innocent eyes. My sweet step-sister—the one girl who is completely off limits—and here I am, holding her close with my cock aching beneath my filthy jeans.
The moment drags on with neither of us speaking. Every instinct I have is responding to her beauty, her warmth. I fight it as long as I can, but finally, I’m unable to hold out any longer.
I reach out with a single dirty finger and brush a strand of hair from her face. A tiny breath escapes her lips, and spellbound, I trace the line of her jaw down to her neck, then to the soft skin of her chest, exposed by her neckline.
This is so wrong…if our parents found out—
But why do I even care? We’re not blood, and I’m done pretending. This ismy life,and I should run it the way I want. I already tried leaving, but that didn’t work. Here I am again, right back where I started, drinking in the beauty of the most perfect woman on the planet.
Something shifts in her eyes, and she finally speaks. “Just say it. You were jealous of those men last night.”
Her boldness sets me back. At the same time, it lights a fire in me—a fire I’ve been fighting to suppress.
Just turn back…don’t say any more…
I know the right thing to do here. But the feel of her smooth skin against my rough, callused finger is too much to handle. The way the fabric of her T-shirt drapes from her ample breasts just reinforces how much of a woman she’s become.
And I can’t—I simplycannotkeep my mouth shut.
“I don’t like other men looking at you.”
Her breath turns heavy. Her breasts lift. I notice. The look in her eyes softens, and her pupils dilate. A tiny gap forms between her lips, as though her body is subconsciously begging for a kiss…
I’mthisclose to losing control. We’re not blood-related. I tried staying away, but it didn’t work. Now it’s become clear. I’m the only man who can protect her. And the only man who ever will.
