“You know what a good match it’ll make. The three businesses combined. Yours, her father’s, and mine? We’ll have an empire, Conor. Think of that. We’ll be totally unstoppable.”
“Let’s not spoil dessert with business talk, Dad” I say lightly. “The ladies might not appreciate it.”
“Ever the gentleman,” Dad laughs as he knocks on the door. I smile back reassuringly, but inside, my heart’s doing flip-flops. Because oh shit. I’m supposed to be squiring some other woman about town … and yet there’s only room for Carrie in my thoughts.
Chapter Nine
Carrie
“Sweetheart, they’re here!” Elaine calls from downstairs.
“Coming!” I call back, as I slip into a new pair of panties. I feel resentment boiling up towards her which is unfair, of course. It’s not Mom’s fault that the first man who’s ever wanted me like this happens to be Mom’s fourth husband’s son. It’s just bad luck. And yet Elaine’s had so many chances to get it right. Isn’t it my turn?
I splash water on my face and aggressively wash the thought of being with Conor out of my head. Yes, he did want me. Yes, he did take me to his country mansion and quite literally fuck me senseless. But I remind myself of his coolness today. His passion for me, his animalistic need to have me that I experienced on our first two meetings, seems gone. It’s been replaced by a kind of detached neutrality, even if he did feel my cunt under the table right under our parents’ noses. What was that about?
I dry my face and resolve to put it all behind me. Conor took my virginity. It was hot. Unbelievably hot. Maybe I can find it in myself to chalk it down to a sexy memory? But how will we ever manage to be step-siblings after all this, especially with all the stuff he’s done to me? I gush with shame at the thought of our parents finding out. I’ll just have to try and pretend it didn’t happen. Hearing voices downstairs, I take a deep breath and head down with a smile plastered on my face.
Mom is laughing again, a bottle of wine and four of our fanciest wine glasses on a tray in her hands.
“Henry brought a bottle of dessert wine to have with the cake instead!” she beams.
“Why not? We have something to celebrate,” Henry chuckles. “The start of a new family!”
Beaming even more, Mom lifts her face up at him and they kiss. I look away, but find myself now looking at Conor, leaning casually on the counter, his hands in his pockets with an eyebrow raised at me.
“To you, Sis,” he rumbles, lifting a glass in a toast. I go scarlet, but then my mom interrupts.
“Carrie, will you cut the cake and bring it out?” Elaine calls over her shoulder, and she and Henry disappear into the living room.
I’m suddenly left alone in the kitchen with Conor, who’s still grinning at me from over by the counter. He’s so relaxed and casual, that I wonder whether I might have imaged our two previous meetings. Did I conjure them up in a sick fantasy of my own? And yet he’s no less smoldering; his lips are perfectly molded, that jaw strong and square, a lock of black hair falling across his piercingly blue eyes as he keeps me pinned under his gaze. His massive body is slack against the counter as he leans backwards indolently. I have to do something, anything, to break this painful silence. I clear my throat, pushing a curl behind my ear, and turn to the cake on my right, my back now to him.
“I – I made a carrot cake,” I stammer. “Yesterday. I hope it will go nicely, with the um, the desert wine.” God, why do I sound like a fool? I pick up the knife and lower it into the icing, bisecting the soft baked dough. The scent of the cinnamon goodness wafts up at me – normally this would make my mouth water, but now, with my nerves, it only makes me feel sick. Suddenly I feel Conor’s hands on my waist, his hot breath in my neck. Shocked, I swirl around, sending the knife clattering to the floor.
“Carrie? Is everything ok?” calls Mom from the other room. I’m staring up at Conor’s perfect face, the blueness of his irises making my heart beat like a drum.
“Carrie?” Mom calls again.
“All good, Mom, we’ll be right in!” I hurriedly blurt out, desperate for her not to come into the kitchen. Conor’s hard body is pressing against mine, my back arching painfully against the counter. His hands feel their way up from my waist over my tits and onto my neck, where they rest, cupping gently. I can’t breathe. He smiles at my shock.
“I’ve been wanting to do this all afternoon,” he rasps, those lips inches away from mine. And he kisses me with that same deep hunger I felt the first time we met. He still wants me, I think with a desperate relief. It’s not gone, he was just hiding it. I let his tongue explore my mouth, turning my knees to jelly again. But my relief at the return of his passion is short-lived. I remember he’s about to become my stepbrother. I remember our parents in the next room. Summoning all my effort, I push him away.