My eyelashes flutter, and I bite back a moan as he pinches my nipple and grinds his hard dick against my backside. His hand disappears for a moment before he shoves it up my shirt, his palm playing with my bare breast. My legs go weak, but he catches me before I fall, then steadies me in his strong hold.
“Keep fighting this, Dahlia. I like a good chase,” he murmurs into my ear.
He guides me to the hallway, shoving me against the wall until I’m sandwiched between him and it. His hand moves to my other breast, giving it the same attention by pinching my nipple until I gasp from the sting.
I can’t remember why I’m fighting this. My mushy mind screams at me to let him do more.
“Are you wet for me, sis?” he rasps.
I nod without thinking, then realize what I’m doing and shake my head.
“Which is it?” Jaxon laughs and drops his hand. His rough palm glides over my stomach, then creeps to my waistband. He lingers there, waiting for my consent.
Voices downstairs draw me back to reality and yank me into my body. I wiggle in his hold and throw my elbow backward, hitting him in the stomach. His hold tightens, but I still fight him, then slip away. I run down the hall toward the staircase. Jaxon’s deep chuckles fade as I put more space between us.
Igasp for air as I lean against the kitchen island, my arms and legs shaking like a leaf being thrown into a hurricane. Jaxon’s touch lingers, tingling and licking every nerve ending in my body.
This is what I wanted. I’ve been dying to be with him for so long, but now that it’s in my face and he’s making it clear he wants me too, I’m scared. Really fucking scared because the world won’t understand. I don’t know how much longer I can fight this attraction to him.
I check behind me, ensuring Jaxon didn’t follow me down here and decide to keep pursuing me out in the open. Dad caught us but said nothing about it. Possibly because of Jaxon’s sarcastic remark, which put him at ease.
Breathing a sigh of relief, I make myself a cup of coffee and a bowl of cereal before I sit down at the table. On the first bite, I wince from the dull pain as the skin on the side of my face pulls even tighter.
To distract myself from the pain, I grab my phone out of my pocket and check my notifications. A lot of them are fromthe dating apps I joined last night. There are several matches and new messages. Jaxon’s warning plays in my head as I open the first message. I hesitate. He wouldn’t actually kill someone...
“Dahlia.”
I jump at Mom’s voice as she bustles into the kitchen.
“I need you to run into town and get decorations and pumpkins.”
“Why can’t you do it?” I mumble.
Mom comes around from behind me, heading straight to the coffeepot. “Speak up and stop mumbling.”
I glare at her back as she pours herself a cup, then turns to me. Her eyes widen when she notices my swollen and bruised face.
“What happened?” she screeches, then sets her coffee on the counter before she rushes to my side.
I gently touch my cheek and wince. “I’m okay.”
Mom crowds me as she leans in and touches the cuts way too hard. I hiss in a breath through my clenched teeth and jerk away from her, but Mom touches my face like it doesn’t hurt me. I slap her hand away and she gasps, clutching her figurative pearls because I established boundaries and refused to let her keep hurting me. She looks so funny with her wide eyes and thin, parted lips. She almost looks like a caricature of herself.
I roll my lips inward, holding back the laugh building in my chest.
Mom recovers, her shock twisting into anger. I almost feel bad for wanting to laugh at her, but my disdain overrides that. A giggle slips from me, then another, until I’m cackling with tears in my eyes.
“Why are you laughing?” she snaps. “This isn’t funny, Dahlia. Quit being a baby and let me see.”
I shake my head as my laughter dies out. “You were hurting me.”
“Dahlia.” Mom huffs and reaches for me. “Stop it. I’m not hurting you. I just want to see how bad these are.”
She’s a nursing-student dropout from over twenty years ago who thinks she knows what she’s doing. I’m glad she’s not a nurse because I can only imagine how awful she would be to her patients.
I jerk back again, and Mom grabs the nape of my neck. Her acrylic nails dig into my skin and draw a whimper from me.
“What happened?” she asks.
