The threshold— I need to add a ‘nope’ to that thought too. I just want sex… for now.
He carries me effortlessly up the stairs, and the left turn he makes at the top leads to my bedroom. My heart races. Tonight’s the night. Wet heat pools between my legs.
He doesn’t bother with the light as he enters my room and sets me on the edge of my bed. “I’m going to leave you here.”
My heart stops. I shouldn’t beg. I won’t beg. Isn’t that proof enough that I’m not too drunk?
He’s already at the door. I swear the light of the full moon streaming in my windows reveals strain on his face as he fades from view.
But when his bedroom door closes, all of my hopes are dashed. I drop back onto the bed.
Footsteps in the hallway wake me. The previous evening plays out in my mind. Moonlight remains the only light in my room. Will Austin’s chivalry apply to him not telling his brothers what I did?
I squeeze my thighs together and tug the covers up. The texture of the sheet dragging over my beaded nipples alerts me that I must have undressed.
Should I throw pajamas on, rush out, and apologize? I don’t know what time it is but assume Austin’s heading down for a midnight snack or a drink. I could use one myself since I didn’t bring a water bottle up and I’ve got a bit of cottonmouth.
All I have to do is remember that he’s my stepbrother. We have a joint mission to make a game plan for how to approach our parents.
And could he pretty please, do me a small favor and give me an incredible first sexual experience? What is family for… wait… that saying doesn’t apply here. And it would negate my apology for behaving like a sex-starved… um… like myself.
The footsteps pause at what I estimate to be the stairwell which is right next to my door. Time to be mature. I swing my legs toward the edge of the bed and peel the sheet back.
A light knock on my door has me yanking the sheet up. Seriously? I asked if we could grudge-fuck, now I’m being modest?
“Camilla?” he says softly. His voice is even sexier like that. Did he change his mind?
“Come in.” I stop myself from adding that I’m sober and still a ‘yes’ on the grudge fuck.
The door clicks open. “I just wanted to check on you.”
“I’m fine. And I’m sorry for the way I behaved.”
“Don’t be sorry.” Does he realize that the moonlight gives slightly more than a silhouette of him? He’s shirtless, as he should always be. But that’s not what catches my attention. His sweatpants are tented.
Holy fuck-a-moley. Is that the actual size or is the fabric adding to it?
I scamper until I’m sitting upright against the headboard, dragging the sheet up, best I can, as I pull my knees in front of me. Maybe not the sexiest thing to do, but I’m trying to show that I’m sober.
“Mind if I sit?” The bedrooms are small, no chairs, just a bed and a dresser so I already like where this is headed.
“Yeah, yeah, have a seat.” I pat the mattress.
Is he aware I’m looking at the outline of his erection as he approaches? I suppress my giddiness when he chooses to sit closer than would be required to ‘check in’. I’m not only sober, every nerve ending in my body is tingling.
He brushes a hand over the sheet until he bumps my toes. How is there any darkness with all the fireworks in my head?
A gentle caress over my foot accompanies his question. “Are you sobered up now?”
“Yeah, dry mouth and all.”
“Want me to get you a drink? Or I have pain relievers in my travel bag if you have a headache.” He starts to get up but I less-than-delicately slap my hand over his.
I hesitate, unsure if he was serious about me being sober. I tread lightly. “You checked on me. That’s really—”
He cuts me off and his hand slides up my shin. “Before you paint me as a saint, let me be clear… My intentions are not innocent.”
“As in…” My brain has more to say but is having a hard time accepting that this is about to happen. If I was at home, I’d be grabbing my vibrator to relieve the wicked ache in my core.
