Total pages in book: 71
Estimated words: 68920 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 345(@200wpm)___ 276(@250wpm)___ 230(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 68920 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 345(@200wpm)___ 276(@250wpm)___ 230(@300wpm)
“Fuck, Rylie.” His voice is pained. Fingers bite into me once more as he uses my body for friction. “Fuck.”
I lift up to look at him. His green eyes flare with emotion. Need and desire. For me. I’m drunk off the look. I slide my fingers into his hair.
I want to kiss him.
Sick. Sick. Sick.
He grinds me against him again. This time, a loud moan rips from my throat. His wild eyes lock with mine. Pleading and begging. For what? I don’t know.
My panties are soaked and I wonder if he can smell my arousal. It’s heady and thick in the air. I should be ashamed because he’s my brother, but he’s got the fever too.
Lost and sick.
Sick and lost.
His palms abandon my ass and then slide up my thighs. Fire blazes in his orbs. I rock against him, urging him on. He groans and his fingers slip under my dress. We both suck in a sharp breath.
“Rylie,” he groans.
I dip forward and kiss his lips. Like last night in the tent. Softly. Unsure. And he bites me like he’s done before. But this time not on my jaw. On my bottom lip. He lets go and our lips press together again.
I’m on fire.
The fever—this sickness—is maddening me.
I part my lips and breathe into his mouth. I suck in his scent. Steal his air. Devour his groan. His tongue brushes along mine. It’s foreign in my mouth, but I like the taste. An instant addiction. I want more.
Two thumbs slide along the seams of my panties on my thighs. I’m in a crazed state because I want him to slip them under the fabric. I grind harder against him, desperate to feel him everywhere.
“Hudson,” I murmur against his mouth. “More.”
He groans and slides his palms up under my dress to my hips. With his hands, he uses me to dry fuck him. We’re both sick, sick, sick. I’m growing dizzy with the need to come. It’s more powerful and intense than any time in the shower. This is real. My fantasy come to life.
I’m so close.
So close.
His phone starts ringing and we both freeze. I pull away to find his panicked eyes on mine.
“Fuck,” he hisses harshly as he digs his phone out of his pocket. “Yes?” His voice is husky and guilty sounding. One palm is still under my dress on my hip. “W-What? Uh, no. We took a walk to the park.” He pauses. “Aunt Becky will be fine. She trusts me to take care of my sister.” Another pause. “Okay, see you in a minute.”
He hangs up and his eyes widen. “What the fuck did we just do?”
Guiltily, I slide away from him and right my dress. My panties are soaked and I’m physically throbbing and aching for him. “I don’t know.”
“I’m sorry,” he blurts out as he stands and runs his fingers that were just on my bare skin through his hair. “I’m so fucking sorry.”
I’m not.
I stand too and shake my head. “Hudson…”
“Please forgive me,” he begs, pain twisting his features.
There’s nothing to forgive.
“Hudson!” Amy calls out from somewhere nearby.
His thumb brushes along my chin before he climbs down the playset and runs away from me as though I truly am carrying the sickness.
But he’s already caught it.
He’s already fucking caught it.
Hudson
Amy frowns at me as I stride past the swing set toward her.
“Hey,” I grunt out, hoping I’m still not sporting an erection.
“Hey.” Her gaze flits past me. “Why are you guys out here?”
“Just hanging out,” I say, a twinge of annoyance in my voice. “I thought you were staying for the band.”
She crosses her arms over her chest and scrutinizes me. “I didn’t feel like it without you there. So I was going to my car and saw your truck.” Her eyes flit back over to where Rylie is now climbing down from the tower. “Just feels like you were avoiding me.”
Rylie walks past us with her gaze down. Guilt is bubbling up inside of me. I’d like to talk to her about what happened just now…what could have happened if we weren’t interrupted. Just then, in the heat of the moment, it felt right.
Now it feels all kinds of wrong.
She’s my sister.
When she’s out of earshot, Amy looks up at me and whispers, “Are we okay?”
I clench my jaw. “I don’t think so.”
Her big blue eyes quickly fill with tears and spill down her cheeks. At one time, I hated to see her cry. Now, I find it hard to be moved in any way by her tears. If anything, they’re bothering me. “Why? What did I do wrong?”
“It’s not you,” I assure her. I rub the back of my neck and stare down at our feet. “I did something I’m ashamed of.”
“With Rylie?” she breathes, her voice choking up.
I snap my glare to hers, overly protective of Rylie’s reputation, and hiss out my words. “No, not my fucking sister,” I lie.