Total pages in book: 101
Estimated words: 94092 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 470(@200wpm)___ 376(@250wpm)___ 314(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 94092 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 470(@200wpm)___ 376(@250wpm)___ 314(@300wpm)
She always knew I was putty in her hands.
I can’t lie here anymore. The bed feels like a hot embrace. I slip out, careful not to wake Sara. The hardwood is cool beneath my bare feet. My sweatpants hang low on my hips, and I don’t bother with a shirt.
The house is quiet.
I move through the dark hallway, the light sconces casting faint pools of light, and head downstairs towards the kitchen. I’ll make a hot drink to dull the edge of my restless thoughts. The air here is cooler, scented with the faint tang of lemon cleaner, the moonlight streaming through the wide windows, silvering the marble counters.
I freeze when I see her—Amelia.
She is seated at the breakfast nook, her silhouette soft in the moon’s glow. She has made herself a pot of tea, a delicate porcelain cup of it steams beside her. Her laptop is open, the screen’s blue light illuminating her face, and her fingers move quickly over the keys as she works, her expression serene but distant.
She’s in a loose white shirt, the sleeves rolled up, her newly styled hair falling in gentle waves over her shoulders, catching the light like a halo. My heart stumbles, a wild beat that echoes in the silence, and I’m struck by how beautiful she is, how effortlessly she fills this space, my home, my world.
I clear my throat, stepping closer, my voice low to avoid startling her. “Hey.”
Her head snaps up and her eyes widen with surprise. For a few seconds, neither of us moves, then a small smile curves her lips, softening her features.
“Max,” she says, her voice soft, warm, like a touch. “You couldn’t sleep either?”
I shake my head and move towards her, my bare feet silent on the tiles. “Nah. Too much on my mind.” I lean against the counter, my arms crossing over my chest, and her eyes flicker down to my chest, just for a moment, before returning my gaze. The air between us hums, a quiet charge I can’t ignore. “Your hair looks beautiful like that,” I say, the words slipping out before I can stop them.
Her cheeks flush, a delicate pink that makes my chest tighten. “Thanks,” she murmurs, tucking a strand behind her ear. “It’s… I’ve got Sara to thank for this transformation.”
Hearing Sara’s name on her lips changes the air in the room. It feels suddenly colder.
“Well, it looks good,” I say, my voice rougher than I intended. I force myself to look away, to the steaming cup, the open laptop, anything but her. “I hope you’re happy here,” I start, my words careful. “I know I haven’t been around much. I just…” I pause, my gaze meeting hers.
Her face is completely innocent and unguarded. There is something so fragile about her as her fingers curl around her teacup handle. The steam rises in delicate spirals as she brings it towards her mouth. That mouth that I want to see wrapped around my cock. That irresistibly plump mouth.
And just like that, the truth spills out, raw and unfiltered. “I want to be honest, Amelia. I want to spend as much time with you as I can. You’re my sister, and you need family right now, especially after… everything. But I still have these thoughts, these… lingering feelings, and I don’t want to do anything wrong, anything abominable. I’d love to be freer with you, to be close, but when I’m around you, I lose my head sometimes. If I cross a line, if I step too far, please… stop me.”
Her eyes become saucers of stormy emotions—surprise, understanding, guilt, and something else more subtle that I can’t quite catch. My heart pounds. I’m exposed and vulnerable. I wait, the silence stretching, thick with the weight of my confession. I’ve laid it all bare, my fear, my want, my need to be her brother, even as I fight the lustful man who loves her in ways he shouldn’t. I brace for her response, every second an eternity.
“Okay,” she says finally, her voice soft, steady, but it’s like she’s holding back a tide.
Her eyes hold mine, and I see it—the unspoken ache that mirrors my own, but the resolve never to cross that line again.
I nod, my throat tight, relief and regret tangling in my chest.
“Okay,” I echo, my voice barely above a whisper, and we sit there, the moonlight pooling around us. We’re just Max and Amelia, half-brother and half-sister, for as long as we can pretend.
Chapter
Seventeen
AMELIA
The moonlight follows me through the large windows on the landing as I climb the stairs, my bare feet whispering against the polished hardwood. The echo of Max’s words “If I cross a line, please stop me,” rings in my ears.
My heart is heavy, a stone lodged in my chest, as I slip into my room. I sink onto the bed, and the duvet is soft beneath me, but it offers no comfort, not when sadness wraps around me like a shroud.