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)
My half-sister.
Oh God!
I would have fucked her. If not for her stopping me, I would have dishonored her.
Her gasp, “Max, no,” echoes in my skull. A knife twists in my gut. I think of her tears as a testament to the horror I’ve inflicted on us. I clench my fists, the sting of my nails in my palms a feeble penance for the sin I nearly committed.
I reach my bedroom and shut the door behind me, sealing myself in a darkness pierced only by the faint glow of moonlight seeping through the blinds. I lean against the door, my chest heaving. The king-sized bed looms, its white sheets rumpled from my earlier tossing. Sara’s side is empty, her absence in Nebraska a hollow reminder of my failure as a husband. Our marriage is a sham. It was a mistake to marry her. And yet I can’t regret marrying her. She gave me Jason. And he is the only good and pure thing in my life.
I walk to the bed and sit on it. Fuck. What a mess. I bury my face in my hands, my breath ragged, my skin slick with sweat despite the cool air. I’ve tainted her, the one person I’ve loved beyond reason, and the disgust is a vise, crushing my chest, making every breath a struggle. Amelia must be horrified by this new violation. I’m supposed to be her half-brother, her protector, not a predator who can’t control himself. The image of her—eyes wide, tears streaming, pushing me away—sears me, a wound that I caused.
I try to sleep, to escape the living nightmare I find myself in, but of course, sleep is impossible. I lie on my back, staring at the ceiling until my eyes burn. The clock’s green digits mock me—3:42 a.m., then 4:15 a.m. My mind replays the kiss over and over again, her lips soft and yielding, her body pressed to mine. I hate myself for the hunger that drove me to kiss her, for the way I wanted more, even knowing it’s wrong, sick, and forbidden. She’s my half-sister, I repeat, but that mantra has lost any power it once had.
I imagine her in her room, curled up, trembling with fear, hating me, and the thought is unbearable, an agony sharper than any pain I feel. I can’t leave it like this, can’t let her carry this alone. I need to apologize, to face her, to ask for the forgiveness I don’t deserve, to promise it’ll never happen again, even if I doubt I can keep that vow.
I sit up. She’s probably asleep by now. If she is, then I’ll just leave.
I rise and make my way toward Amelia’s room, my heart pounding, a wild drumbeat of dread and need. Her door is closed. There is no sliver of light underneath it. I pause, my hand hovering over the knob, when a sound makes me stop—a soft moan, low and breathy, her voice calling my name, “Max…” My breath catches, my body freezing, every nerve alight with shock.
I nudge the door open, the hinges whispering, and step inside, the room bathed in silver, the drapes fluttering faintly in the night breeze.
Amelia’s on her bed, the quilt tangled around her legs, her gray tank top has rucked up, revealing the soft curve of her waist. Her eyes are closed, her lips parted, her hand moving beneath her cotton shorts, and she’s moaning my name, a sound that’s both a prayer and a curse. My cock hardens, a painful ache, and I’m rooted, unable to look away, my self-disgust warring with a desire so fierce it blinds me. She doesn’t hear me, lost in her pleasure, her body arching slightly, her breath quickening, and I know I should leave, should run from this sin, but I can’t, not when she’s calling for me, not when I’ve wanted her for so long.
My mouth opens of its own accord, and her name drops out. “Amelia.”
Her eyes snap open, a gasp tearing from her throat as she sees me, her hand stilling, her face flushing with shock and shame. She scrambles up, horrified.
“Max, what are you doing here?”
“Amelia,” I say, my voice raw, trembling, my eyes locked on hers, wide and glistening with panic. “You were calling my name.”
She freezes, her cheeks flaming. I step closer, the door clicking shut behind us, sealing us in this fragile, dangerous space.
“I came here to say I’m sorry,” I tell her. “But … tell me. Do you want me to apologize? Because it doesn’t seem like you do….”
She remains frozen in place and unable to move.
“I’m going mad, Amelia. I know it’s sick and wrong, but I want you. I’ve tried to stay away—I swear I have—but I just can’t. There’s no one for me but you. There never has been.”