“I don’t mind,” I rush to say.
“You should,” he says harshly, his nostrils flaring. “I’m just trying to make you understand…it’s difficult for me to be around you. I’m going to do my best to stay away.”
Panic surges. “But not yet, right? You’re not leaving yet.” I rest a hand on his leg and he hisses a breath. “You’re goin’ to stay for a little while. Aren’t ya?”
He exhales shakily. “Long enough to teach you how to use the television. And then I have to go. I have to. Please try and understand. Hurting your feelings is the last thing I want to do, sweetheart. God, you have to believe that. But I can’t act on what my body wants.”
Because I’m his stepsister. Obviously.
It’s proof that I’m not from this world, this proper society, that I’m so eager to break that rule, my body not much caring that we’re related by marriage. But I don’t push for my stepbrother to break the rule, because Tristan doesn’t think I’m trash. I don’t want him to change his mind. I don’t want him to look at me in disgust, the way that tutor did.
“I understand,” I say, forcing a weak smile, scooting an appropriate distance away on the couch.
He watches me go with a hard swallow, looking for all the world like he wants to drag me back. “There are two buttons at the top of the remote,” he says hoarsely. “One turns on the cable box, the other turns on the actual television.” He shows me the buttons as he refers to them. “This is the guide. You use the arrows to scroll through. When you find something you want to watch, highlight it and press enter.”
Biting my lip and nodding, I do my best to commit everything to memory.
“Here.” He hands me the remote, electricity sparking when our fingers brush together. “Test it out. I’ll make sure you’ve got it, before…before I go.”
My heart sinks, but I try not to let the disappointment show on my face, holding the remote in front of me and pressing the top two buttons, one after the other.
The television blinks on and I smile, a rush of laughter tumbling out. I got it on.
Feeling Tristan’s eyes on me, I move on to the guide button, pressing it and looking at the words on the screen, all crowded up in their little boxes. Just like I am in this apartment. There’s a show called General Hospital playing right now and it sounds like as good a show as any, so I highlight and hit enter.
And suddenly there are a man and a woman kissing on the screen.
Passionately.
The man’s hand drags up the woman’s thigh slowly, clutching at the hem of her skirt, twisting the garment in his hold, the sounds of their mating tongues reaching out and filling the space between me and Tristan. I’m riveted by the motions of their mouths, the anxious, unrepressed hunger on display. The way the man presses his body so tightly to the woman’s. Does he have a hard shaft, like Tristan? Does he want to be inside the woman?
I don’t realize my breathing has turned to shallow pants until Tristan takes the remote from my hand and flips off the television, leaving the screen black. And the sound of our labored breathing fills the room.
“I’m sorry,” I manage, pressing trembling fingers to my lips. “I didn’t know what it was.”
“It’s okay,” he says sharply.
“He…he had his tongue in her mouth. Is that normal?”
“For the love of—we can’t talk about this, Cate.” His head falls into his hands, his perfect hair ruined by frustrated fingers. “Yes, it’s normal,” he rasps, after a tense pause.
“Is it nice?”
“Cate.”
My eyes close and I try to imagine the texture of an open-mouthed kiss. It must be divine to connect with another person in such a way. To know one another’s taste. “I hope someone kisses me real good and proper like that someday,” I whisper.
When I sense Tristan go still beside me on the couch, I open my eyes and look over—and find him regarding me with a warning in his eyes. “That’s a dangerous game, sweetheart. Talking about kissing other men while I’m sitting here with a hard-on for you.”
“It doesn’t have to be other men.” What am I doing? Am I trying to convince my stepbrother to put his mouth on mine? Yes, I think I am. Even though he told me any touching between us couldn’t happen. That warning hasn’t saved me from being starved for the feel of his body, starved for connection with him. I have been since he held me, told me he would take good care of me. His words, his arms around me, the safety he offered…I want all of that on a higher level. An intimate level. “My first kiss could be with you.”