Total pages in book: 38
Estimated words: 36643 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 183(@200wpm)___ 147(@250wpm)___ 122(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 36643 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 183(@200wpm)___ 147(@250wpm)___ 122(@300wpm)
“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.”