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He raised his head an inch to look at me, pinning my eyes with his.

“When only I should get to see.”

“I don’t remember that being one of your rules,” I said, my voice breathier than I’d have liked.

“You have to read the small print, every time. It’ll get you.” He placed his face back on my Lycra-covered pussy and inhaled.“Why do you smell like fucking Christmas, birthday cake, and scoring the decisive goal all at once?”

“No one smells like that,” I breathed, trying to keep steam from coming out of my ears. Why was this so hot? Because he was off-limits? Taboo? Or because this was a man of the utmost self-control, and it was crumbling right in front of me, because of me?

“You do. You smell like starry skies and deep, cool lakes, and snowcapped mountains.” He moved his nose over me, rubbing up and down in small, delicious movements.

“Do all English men hold illusions of being a wordsmith, or just pretentious, arrogant ones?” I gasped.

“Don’t talk about other men right now. I’ll bite you,” he said.

I laughed. “Do you promise?”

Brody pulled his head up, his eyes warm and darker than ever. That look was everything. Desire crawled in my veins. This was what it felt like to be wanted more than anything. This was it. It was intoxicating.

He let go of my arms and straightened up. His dick lay along his thick thigh, trapped by his shorts. So long and hard, it had to turn at that angle.

“Get on the bench. The one you came on the other night,” he commanded.

I gaped at him. Dry humping was one thing. Messing around on a call was another. But this was something else. Something more. My heart raced with fear and excitement.

“Do it now, heathen, before I put you there myself.”

I pushed to my feet, while Brody remained on the floor.

“This—we shouldn’t cross the line,” I forced myself to say.

“The line is already lying far, far behind us, Selena. It’s madness to think otherwise. The line has been crossed. There’s no going back.”

He sounded so sure of himself. There was no conflict in his voice. He’d decided this was going to happen. He didn’t care that I was his stepsister, or that I annoyed him, or that he wanted me and my mom out of his family.

He didn’t care about any of it.

“You crossed the fucking line when you kissed me beside the pool, clinging to me like I was your fucking hero, and the rest has been inevitable since then.”

I stepped over him and walked to the bench. I could hardly look at it without remembering that wild orgasm.

I stopped there, and Brody turned around and rose on his knees. I watched him in the mirrors around us.

His hands hit the back of my thighs and trailed up to my ass. These yoga pants did nothing to muffle the feeling of his hot skin on my backside.

He squeezed my cheeks lightly as he stared up at me.

“If you think we ever had a chance of not ending up right here, you’re fooling yourself,” he murmured, his hands sliding up and hooking over my waistband.

“We were always going to end up here. Whether we were going to be stepsiblings, classmates, or people who met at a party. We were always going to end upright here.”

Then he slowly started to pull down my pants and panties.

Oh God, was this really happening? Was I really going to let this happen?

Yes.

I wasn’t scared. I didn’t feel pressured. I wanted it. That was the truth. I wanted him to touch me where I’d started to think no one else ever would again. A flash of that night forced itself into my head for a second. A blast of shame sent words tumbling from my mouth.