Page 28 of Heavy
“Stop calling me that.” The defiance in her tone makes my cock twitch.
“Then, little niece.”
“I’m not your niece.”
“You’re my brother’s stepdaughter, I think that constitutes as you being that,” I state matter of fact.
When she balls up her hands into fists, I egg her to use them. “Go ahead, use them. I give you permission to touch me.” Before she can respond, I add, “Forviolence.”
Her breathing is choppy, pupils dilated as she slightly raises her right hand. I’d never hit her back, especially after giving her permission. Contrary to what she maythink, punching a woman isn’t high on my list of wants.
I can’t say I won’t slap her, because something tells me I will. Whether it’s her ass or not, is still to be determined.
Just as I think she's about to actually follow through and hit me, she sidesteps, slipping between me and the wall. Her retreat quickens, and the sound of her door closing behind her only makes my grin widen.
I chuckle and place my hand down over my cock, needing to adjust. She probably just saved herself, because if she had hit me I don’t know where I would have found the restraint not to hurt her in all the ways she’s been begging for these past few days.
Calista left about an hour before me, and I took my sweet time riding the highway to my brother's place, regretting every mile. I’m not entirely sure what the point of this is, other than to learn a little about my step-niece. It’s completely out of curiosity’s sake, because I’ll be out of this damn state in a few months; leaving everything, includingherbehind.
No, scratch that—this whole continent feels too close. Honestly, anywhere I won’t run into ghosts of my past would be perfect. Most of them are dead, even if it doesn’t feel that way. It’s like they are still haunting my every free fucking step I take.
When I finally pull up to my brother’s place, I take in the large, historic-style house, its stone exterior and dark wooden accents giving it a solid, timeless look. The place is set in a neighborhood of older homes recently renovated under the Colorado UP Act—something I only know about because Calista and the contractors kept talking about tax breaks.
I’ve been paying way too much attention to her and her projects. It’s becoming irritating.
I cut the engine of my matte-black r125 and stand, eyeing the elevated house surrounded by mature trees and a perfectly manicured lawn. It’s past seven, and the lights inside cast a warm glow. Through the sheer curtains, I can see people moving around; one of them is Eamon. The thought of turning back, retreating to my solitude, hits me hard.
Then I spot Calista passing by the window, wearing a dress that hugs her figure—a far cry from the leggings and t-shirt she had on when she left. I can’t quite make out the color, but it’s enough to have me linger a second longer. She does have such a nice ass and set of tits.
I take off my helmet, making my way up the steps to the porch, which is flanked by thick stone columns.
After another deep breath, I knock on the door.
“I’ll get it.” Irrationally, I’m frustrated that it isn’t Calista that calls out.
“Don’t worry, Mom. I’ve got it.”
There she is.
I hear the rush of footsteps approaching the door, and I shift slightly, leaning to the side and tilting my head just as it swings open.
The dress is the color of red wine, and it’s the first thing I notice as light spills out onto the darkened porch. It clings just above her knees, the fabric stretched to fit every perfect curve.
She may be wearing a bra, but she sure as shit isn’t wearing any panties, I’d easily see the divots of them with how that dress frames her. The thought of finding out if I’m right or not would have me getting hard, but thankfully she says something.
“Evening.” I let my gaze travel up to her face, where a smug smile plays on her lips which are painted a dusty rose. “You must be Ronan.”
This is wrong—this game that we are playing, butfucking Christ, my cock is thickening behind my jeans. We are just living with each other, but keeping it a secret feels far dirtier than it is.
Dragging my hand down my torso, I unzip my leather jacket, giving her a half-smile. “You must be my brother's stepdaughter.”
Her nostrils flare slightly as she tries to maintain her smile.
The sound of approaching footsteps should break our gaze, but we both hold firm in defiance. I can sense how much I intimidate her and how desperately she wants to run, yet she still dares to taunt the beast within me. If I weren’t so hell-bent on controlling the surge of desire rising in my pants right now, she’d be in real trouble.
“Ronan!” Eamon says as he comes into view right behind my step-niece. “I’m glad you actually came—”Not yet…“—this is my stepdaughter, Calista.”
He places his hands onto her shoulders, and an irrational part of me wants to slam my fist into his nose for touching her. It’s the same sensation I got in the woods when that security guard had his hands on her.
