“Nobody has to know,” she murmurs.
My phone buzzes with a text.
“Nobody has to know,” I agree.
When I pull away to see who texted me, I realize Rylie has sent me a picture. It’s a selfie. Her light brown eyes are hooded and sultry. Plump pink lips are parted. But what has me wanting to reach through the phone and grabbing her is the fact her mouth is wrapped around three very wet fingers.
I stare at the picture and burn it into my memory.
“I have to delete this picture,” I mutter, really fucking hating that idea.
“I know. But I wanted you to see.”
“Beautiful.” My word is barely whispered, but she hears.
“Thank you. I love you, Huds.”
“I love you too, heathen.”
We hang up, but I stare at the picture for hours. I get hard again and I come once more, this time all alone. And then I continue to stare at what I’ll never be allowed to have. When I hear giggling many hours later outside my door, I reluctantly delete the picture.
But I’ll never fucking delete this memory.
Never.
Rylie
“She took my phone!” Hudson yells as he beats on the other side of my door.
My parents, used to our fights, ignore him. I let out a quiet laugh as I sit down on my bed and easily guess his passcode. I’m just tapping on an app I’ve never seen before when my door handle jiggles.
Oh crap!
Did he steal the key my parents keep to all the doors?
I let out a squeal when the door opens and he steps inside my room, his chest heaving. Hudson is almost eighteen now. He doesn’t know I’m sick. I take a moment to appreciate the hard curves of his chest muscles as he closes the door behind him.
Why is he closing the door?
My heart stammers in my chest.
When Mom and Dad aren’t home, he lets Amy come over and they lock his bedroom door. I can hear them having sex each time. It’s dirty and embarrassing, but I can’t not go to his door each time they do it. The sound of their skin slapping together is the most delicious sound I’ve ever heard.
Are we going to…
His green eyes are flaming with rage and his hair still drips from his recent shower. When his fingers turn the lock, I forget how to breathe.
He’s beautiful.
Sick, Rylie, you’re sick.
“Get out of my room,” I croak, but I don’t mean it. Girls who aren’t sick say that sort of thing.
“You had no problems going in mine.” His jaw clenches with fury. When did Hudson turn into a man? He’s every bit as big as Dad, but he’s definitely stronger and more defined.
My finger smashes something on his phone because moans start playing from the app. He pounces on me and knocks his phone into the floor.
“Stay out of my room,” he snaps, his strong hands easily pinning me to the bed.
