Total pages in book: 57
Estimated words: 56624 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 283(@200wpm)___ 226(@250wpm)___ 189(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 56624 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 283(@200wpm)___ 226(@250wpm)___ 189(@300wpm)
"Why are you out here?" I asked her. “You’ve been out here for an hour.”
“Didn’t know you noticed.”
She looked so small, so utterly helpless.
Like she'd forgotten how to want something for herself.
"Everyone forgets I’m here," she whispered. "Until they need something."
Then she added, softer, "Sometimes I think I’m just… forgettable."
Forgettable.
It hit me like a knife sliding between ribs. I cupped her cheek before I could even stop myself.
"You're not invisible to me," I told her. "Never to me."
She looked up at me. God, she was only eighteen. We were. Not. Related. No matter how many times our parents tried to pretend we were.
But we were still forbidden.
I knew I shouldn't have been anywhere near her. But her lips parted, and I leaned in—
"Emma!"
A voice from inside. Laughter. Glasses clinking. Our parents.
She blinked and stepped back, shaking her head. Just like that, it was over.
I let my hand fall.
"You’re never invisible to me," I repeated.
She turned and fled.
"I thought you were going to kiss me that night," she says now, laughing quietly, embarrassed. Her voice shakes just enough.
"Of course I was."
"What? Are you serious?"
I reach for the soap again. Her skin is flushed, her breathing shallow. I quickly shed my clothes, then shift the stool behind her, lift her gently, and set her down between my legs.
Now I'm in the tub, too, water sloshing as we settle.
Her bare back presses against my chest. Her eyes rake over me—possessive, hungry—and fuck, I love that.
"We should have a do-over," I whisper into her ear.
"A what?"
“I got eggnog. Spiked eggnog."
She laughs. “My god, you’re right. We were both drinking rum and eggnog that night, remember?"
“You thought you were the Queen, didn’t you?”
She bursts out laughing. "I did?"
"Yeah. So did I."
I smirk. "I still like it, you know. Eggnog and rum." I nod to the fridge. “And we have some."
"Perfect," she says, her voice soft. "Let’s do it."
I rinse her off and wash her hair, tilting her head back and lathering it gently. This one smells like sugar cookies.
"Mmm, that’s delicious," she says as I rinse the suds away. I like the smell too. It’s nostalgic. Innocent.
After toweling off, we head to the front room, wrapped in thick terry cloth, still damp and flushed, the fire roaring beside us.
I pour us each a glass of rum and eggnog, heavy on the rum.
"Ready for a do-over?" I ask.
"Yes," she says, curling up beside me on the rug. “Do I have to be awkward and gangly?”
I snort. “Do I have to have garlic breath from your mother’s pasta?”
“Owen, please do not mention my mother right now,” she says with a groan, but she’s laughing, even while grimacing.
We clink our glasses and drink. I watch her lick off her eggnog mustache.
“Do you still build model cars?” she asks.
I look away and shrug. “Haven’t in a while. I had a girlfriend who told me they were childish and it was time to grow up.” I sigh. “Stupid how we internalize that shit, eh?”
“Yeah,” she says, taking another huge sip of her eggnog. “Jake told me I needed to start wearing makeup like a grown-up.” She sips again. “All the while, he was fucking another woman and didn’t have the balls to break up with me.”
My fingers tighten around the glass. I take another drink.
“Dick.” I sip again.
“Total dick.” She upends the rest of her glass and leans back.
“I like you without makeup,” I whisper. I tug a lock of her hair, letting my gaze roam over her pretty, pert tits and full hips. I remember the way she tasted when I ate her out for breakfast.
I want her again. And again. And a-fucking-gain.
“How much rum was in that?” Her speech is already slurred.
Enough so that she’ll spread her legs for me and let me fuck her to her next word count goal?
When she reaches for the rum, I take the neck of the bottle. “That shit’s strong. You're done," I tell her, not even looking. "I decide when you've had enough."
"Mmm, just a little more," she says, giggling, tipping the bottle just enough to put some in her cup before she finishes it.
"Bad girl," I murmur, shaking my head. "I should spank you for that, then fuck you like the bad girl you are. Is that what you want?”
She stills. Her eyes widen.
"What if that’s… wrong or something? I don’t know."
“Wrong?" I ask quietly. "According to who?"
The cabin falls silent. This time, I’m not touching her.
But I will. Soon.
She leans in closer to me, fisting my towel in her palm. “No one who fucking matters.”
We kiss, long, hard, and breathless. My dick’s hard as steel, pressed between us, and her little moans make me stifle a groan.
When we pull away, her eyes are shining. I want her tight pussy wrapped around me. I want to taste her again. I’ve waited this fucking long for her, like a man starved. I want her so damn bad.