The Wayward Sister (The Wayward Sons 5)
“Nothing,” he says. “That’s the problem, Sierra, there’s nothing wrong with you.”
“You didn’t give me a chance to finish in there,” he says, the sharp angles of his face highlighted in the moonlight. “I am greedy. I’m totally selfish. And seriously, I don’t like to share, but that stubbornness is something I’m working on.”
“Is that like, one of your rules?”
“I’m learning when it comes to you, none of my rules seem to stick.”
“You know Adrian says we’re too alike.”
“Don’t tell him, because it’ll totally go to his head, but Adrian is usually right.”
I giggle at his admission, a lightness filling my chest. He smiles and it’s amazing, brightening his whole expression.
“So, what does this mean?”
“It means that I’m not ready to let you go. That I’m willing to explore what you’ve suggested.”
“It won’t ruin your friendship with Holden and Adrian?”
He shakes his head. “As long as they don’t hurt you, nothing can come between the three of us.”
He picks up his chair and moves it next to mine. From there he doesn’t hesitate to kiss me, thank god, because I was terrified he’d never do it again. It’s as good as the first time, and the second, and I have no doubt it will never change. There’s a buzz between us; relief, desire, exhilaration.
“What does your thirteen-year-old-self say about what’s going on now?” he asks, brushing his nose against mine.
“That girl would be impressed that a hot guy is kissing her in a bar. Like super-duper impressed.”
He laughs and wraps his arms around me, and for once, I think the two of us are willing to do something that’s never been easy for either of us: just to be in the moment.
26
Smith
Waking up hard is part of being male. It’s a regular occurrence, something to contend with before starting the day.
But with Sierra in the bed next to me, “morning wood” takes on a whole new meaning. It’s not just an involuntary reaction. It’s a physical demand, especially when I see her curled up on her side, that little tank stretched tight over her tits, and exposing her belly. I want her, so fucking bad, but I have enough self-control not to throw a leg over her and hump her while she sleeps.
I grimace, shifting uncomfortably as blood travels to my already erect cock, making it insufferably harder.
Her eyes flutter, and she wakes.
“Sorry,” I whisper. “I didn’t mean to wake you up.”
“This isn’t the best mattress.”
“I slept great.” It’s the truth. I’d fought my attraction to her for so long, that coming to terms with it was a relief. After we left the bar, neither of us wanted to say goodnight, so she invited me to her room. The two of us, even snuggling, wasn’t going to happen in my small, single bed. We didn’t do much more than kiss and talk, both of us nodding off around midnight.
“I did, too.” Her eyes drop to my lips. “Would it be gross for me to kiss you before brushing my teeth?”
“Nope, not gross at all.”
I reach for her, throwing an arm over her waist and dragging her across the bed. She laughs, but I cut it off with my mouth, dying to feel her lips against mine. They’re perfect, soft and pink. I’ve dreamed about them—no, fantasized—ever since we kissed that first night. Now that she’s willing to kiss me again, I can’t get enough.
Thankfully, she responds the same, eagerly. I waste no time coaxing her lips apart and sweeping my tongue inside. Her body presses against mine, those perfect, round breasts, her flat lower belly. My cock feels like it could shatter.
I pull back.
“I probably should go…”