“Until your big brother can show you just how much he loves you.” Ryan chuckles sinisterly. I let loose a nervous smile. I know Ryan wants to get me into bed, but more than that, he wants to own me. Own my thoughts, my actions, my body. He thinks he already does. In his twisted mind, he calls it love. Why wouldn’t he? It’s not like Ryan has ever seen a good example of it. Hell, neither have I. In his mind, he protects me, takes care of me, and he needs me. In a way, I need him, too. But, I just can’t ever see us happening. This—what we’re doing right this moment—is what the rest of my life would look like. Me cooking dinner, wishing I were anywhere else, and Ryan being perfectly content to work on his bike and get tanked with his shitty friends every night. No, thank you.
It’s not like the attraction is not there. I had a major crush on him when I was younger. I thought he hung the moon and the stars, making everything brighter in my dull universe, and I think I did the same for him. But if he were the one, it wouldn’t feel so freaking wrong every time his throbbing dick “accidentally” presses against my ass at night.
Getting up from my seat, I take our plates to the sink and saunter back with a new beer, cracking it open in front of him. When I do, he snakes one arm around my waist and grabs me in one swift movement so that I’m straddling him on his lap. I can feel the seam of his zipper grinding into my crotch. Not gonna lie—it feels nice.
“Hey,” he breathes into my mouth, always a whisper from a kiss, but never there. Where he wants to be.
“Hi.” I swallow visibly.
“So.” His hand travels into my inner thigh, and I feel something stiffen underneath me. I take a deep breath. The room is dark and dingy and small, cluttered with our old furniture, with our pasts. It’s not exactly romantic, but I can’t deny the heady feeling coursing through me.
“You a virgin, Rem?” he whispers into my lips again, and this time it could qualify as a kiss. A part of me wants it to. The other part begs me not to go over that invisible, fragile line that I’m straddling just now. “You saved yourself for me? Kept this untouched?” His fingers hover over my groin, barely touching.
“No.” The word comes out more like a groan. Never mind the fact that I’ve only done it twice. I don’t need to tell him who it was. He knows. Zach Williamson. Eleventh grade. The only guy I dated for more than two months before I got bored. We actually made it through a whole semester before I dumped his ass. I didn’t care that I’d given him my virginity. I wasn’t waiting for “the one”. To be honest, I’ve never really thought that one person putting their body part into another person was that big of a deal. It’s probably a good thing I didn’t have high hopes, because both times were pretty anticlimactic.
There’s something in Ryan’s already-hooded expression that becomes even darker and more severe, and for a minute, my heart beats faster for the wrong reason. Not because I’m excited, but because I’m unnerved. I wait, studying his expression carefully, before his hard stare turns into a half-assed, placid smile.
“Good,” he says and squeezes my butt a little too hard, indicating that he doesn’t think it’s good at all. “I don’t think you could handle me without a little practice, anyway.”
Then his lips are not hovering anymore—they’re kissing—not slowly either. He doesn’t ask for permission. He is not tentative or unsure. His tongue invades my mouth in an instant, and it catches me off-guard. As I suck in some air, he takes the opportunity to deepen our kiss. I place both hands on his cheeks to ease him away, and he throws my hands off.
Possessive. Hungry. Angry.
“You taste like heaven, little sister,” he hisses into my mouth. Nothing about this feels right. People know us as brother and sister. The fact that we’re not blood-related is only somewhat consoling. Hell, even the kiss doesn’t feel right. Like we’re doing it all wrong. I feel him squeezing my ass harder, digging his dirty fingernails into my flesh, and wince.
“I’ve been waiting so long for this.” His words not only pierce—they penetrate me—along with his fingers that are now dragging themselves slowly, roughly toward my sex. I breathe out harshly.
“Ryan,” I drop my forehead to his, “you’re hurting me.”
“I know.” His tongue continues attacking my mouth, his hands even more aggressive on me than before.
Panic. It trickles into me slowly. I know Ryan. Know him well. He is not a bad guy—definitely not a good guy, but not a rapist either—and he knows damn well my dad would kill him if he ever seriously wronged me.
“You’re starting school tomorrow,” he says, licking his way down to my chin and neck. I let him, and even though I don’t want this, I can’t help my body’s reaction to his touch. It’s humming, singing, asking for more. And why not give in to feeling good with someone I know and trust with my life? Still, something holds me back.
“How you gonna get all the way to Henderson every day?”
“Take the bus,” I answer flatly. I’m not giving up on this opportunity. My dad somehow came up with my tuition to one of the best high schools in Nevada. Private. Top-notch. Said he’s been saving for years, and only just now—my senior year—saved enough to send me. Not that I’m complaining. I think Dad secretly feels guilty about being gone so often. That, and he’s heard what the kids at school say about me. That I’m a whore. A brother fucker.
After my best friend, Ella, moved away, they got worse. I was a lone ranger. An easy target. The boys were all afraid to interact with me—pussies—but the girls? Girls are vicious and sneaky. Like the boys, they’re also afraid of Ryan, but they did shit on the down low. Stashing shit—literal shit—in my locker. Stealing my clothes when I was in the shower after P.E. Stuff that couldn’t be directly traced back to them, even though we all knew who did it. And while I honestly never really cared what other people thought of me, I was being offered a golden ticket out of this shithole town, and I’m not giving it up. Especially not for something as miniscule as transportation.
“The buses don’t run that early, baby girl.” Ryan laughs, and why did I think he was that attractive in the first place? His smile is too big, his teeth too pointy, like a wolf’s, and the scent of his sweat is too sour.
“Nice try. I checked, Ryan. They’re twenty-four hours.”
“You can walk, my ass.” He pulls his head back, laughing. “You’re not taking the bus alone. I’m giving you a ride back and forth, got it?”
I hate depending on anyone for anything. I may not have a car, but I’ve worked since the day I turned fourteen. My dad signed a waiver, much to Ryan’s dismay, and I got a job at the Dairy Queen around the corner—where I reluctantly quit once I found out I wouldn’t have time to work when school started. When I need to be somewhere, I walk or ride my bike. Like I said, I despise being dependent on anyone, but if there’s one thing I hate more, it’s mornings. Specifically, early mornings. And to get to school o
n time, I’d have to wake up at an ungodly hour.
I want to say no.
I should say no.
But as his rock-hard erection grinds into me violently, I say something else entirely.
“Fine.”