Total pages in book: 19
Estimated words: 17621 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 88(@200wpm)___ 70(@250wpm)___ 59(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 17621 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 88(@200wpm)___ 70(@250wpm)___ 59(@300wpm)
Apparently, I'm too wrapped up in them to notice the infuriating man stretched across my bed, too. I don't see him at all, in fact. Not until I hear him.
"Half Pint," he growls, his voice the same deep baritone that haunts my dreams.
I scream, whirling to face him.
I register him sprawled across my bed with his hands behind his head and a diabolical smirk on his gorgeous face approximately half a second before my worst nightmare comes true.
My towel slips, landing on the floor at my feet.
I'm officially naked and dripping wet…in front of the man who hates me.
Send help.
Chapter Two
Dawson
Breaking into Ava's place probably isn't my finest moment, but ask me if I give a shit. The answer is no. She's standing in front of me, stark naked, every inch of her perfect body just…right there.
"Fuck me running," I breathe, my cock pressing up against my fly like he's trying to rip through the zipper.
My fantasies were right about the way her whole body flushes pink. They were right about how fucking soft and sweet she is, too. Her cherry nipples are hard little buds, just begging for my mouth. Her hips were made for my hands. And that little slice of heaven between her legs? Yeah, that was made for me, too.
Every inch of her is mine.
There's no goddamn way she's dating her neighbor. Hell no. I'm shutting that shit down right now.
"Dawson!" she shrieks, bending to snatch her towel from the floor. "Get out of my bedroom!"
"Nah, your bed is comfortable as fuck." I make a show of getting comfortable on her pillows, my eyes still locked on her as she hurriedly wraps the towel around her again. "I think I'll stay."
"You think you'll…" She trails off, breathing like she's contemplating acts of violence, which is just fucking cute coming from the woman who can't even kill the spiders that scare the shit out of her. "You broke into my house."
"Janice gave me a key." I dig my keyring out of my pocket, holding up the key to her place. "See?"
"Oh, my god." She lets go of the towel to press her hands to her cheeks, and the towel immediately starts sliding again. I grin when she squeals and grabs for it again, keeping it in place. "My own mother helped you break in?"
"She thought you'd need someone to check in on you while they're gone." I look her up and down, desperately trying not to reach for my cock. "Looks like she was right. You didn't even know I was here."
"I swear to God, if you don't get out right now, I'll…I'll…"
"What?" I ask, unable to resist taunting her.
That's the problem with us. I can't ever resist taunting her. I live in a permanent state of arousal around her. And she's so fucking cute when she's riled up… Can you blame a motherfucker for wanting to make a goddess squirm right alongside him?
I live for the way she looks at me like she doesn't know if she wants to praise Jesus for making me or fight the Devil for bringing me into her life.
She's supposed to be my stepsister, the one woman on the planet who is off-limits. And yet…she's the one who keeps my cock aching. Every damn time I see her, I want to bend her over and fuck her until my name is the only one she remembers.
I've tried to do the right thing and keep her at a distance for her sake. I've tried like hell to pretend I feel nothing. It's what a good stepbrother should do, right? Ignore the fact that he wants to fuck his kid into his new stepsister? Except…that is precisely what I want to do.
The longer I try to avoid reality, the more I want it. Every time I see her, I want it. Every time she looks at me like I'm the best thing she's ever seen, I want it. Every minute of every day, I want it.
It's driving me out of my fucking mind.
"I don't know!" she cries. "I'm naked, and I can't think."
A deep laugh rumbles from my lips. I love how honest she is. Even when she doesn't mean to be, the truth just spills out, like she can't contain it.
"Feel free to put clothes on if you'd like," I murmur, lacing my fingers together behind my head. "I'll wait."
"I am not getting dressed in front of you," she hisses.
"Why not?" I cock a brow at her, smirking. "I've already seen it all. It won't hurt my feelings if you lose the towel."
She's breathing hard again, her tits heaving under that thin piece of terry cloth. "You're disgusting!"
"Why?"
"I'm your stepsister," she growls, her cheeks pink.
I hate that reminder and don't hate it enough. Does it bother me? Fuck no. But it bothers her. And as I've come to learn intimately since meeting her a year ago, the last person on the planet I want to embarrass or humiliate is her.