Forbidden

by Evangeline Anderson

  His cock ached as it never had before. Hard and insistent, it demanded to be released from its prison behind his zipper, but Owen refused it. I’m not going to do that. Not going to jerk off while I imagine—But he couldn’t even let himself think it. Leah was innocent; it wasn’t her fault she’d affected him so. It’s me. I’m the wrong one. The sick one. The one who ought to be shot for even thinking of her like that.

  It took what seemed like forever, but at last his stubborn hard-on went down. He splashed cold water on his face and sighed in relief. Nothing. It’s nothing. You can deal with this. Just act normal. Be yourself. Taking another deep breath, he went back out into the mall’s food court to find his family waiting for him. Mumbling an excuse about an upset stomach, he sat miserable and silent through their postpicture meal, trying not to look at, talk to, or think about Leah in any way.

  But Leah wasn’t one to give up easily. Over the next few days, she pushed her way into Owen’s life and personal space, demanding he notice and acknowledge her, unable to accept that things had changed between them.

  Owen felt bad for her, for the pain he was causing her, but he couldn’t help himself. Better to give her the cold shoulder than to hurt her in some other, more permanent, way. So he ignored his little sister, spending as much time out of the house as he could and never inviting her to go with him when he went out.

  Still Leah wouldn’t give up. The last night before he left to go back to college, she crept into his room and slid into bed with him.

  There was nothing unusual about her actions. She had often sneaked into bed with him when they were younger, mostly when there was a thunderstorm, but sometimes just because she wanted to talk. Nothing had ever come if it; they were close, but he’d never had to fight any kind of sexual feelings for her before. But this time when Owen awoke to the soft press of her body against his, things were different—terribly different.

  “Owen.” She was whispering. “Owen, wake up.”

  “Wha…?” he mumbled uncertainly. “Who?”

  “It’s me, silly. You know, the one you’ve been avoiding the past two weeks?”

  “Leah?” He’d been having an erotic dream and was already at half-mast. When he heard her voice in his ear and felt her full breasts brushing his arm, he went completely hard at once.

  “Of course it’s Leah,” she said impatiently. “I know it’s late, but you’re going early tomorrow, and I wanted to talk before you left.”

  “You shouldn’t be here.” Owen sat up, rubbing sleep out of his eyes.

  “Why not?” Leah sat up too, and he could see she was wearing one of her old lace nightgowns. But now the worn and tattered lace was stretched tight against her firm breasts, and the short hem was riding up her smooth thighs.

  “B-because,” he stuttered, trying to keep his gaze off her body, “you’re too old for this. Too old to be sneaking into bed with me at night. You should stay in your own room, Leah.”

  “But I wanted to talk to you.” Her eyes filled with tears. “I’ve been wanting to talk to you for the past two weeks, but you keep ignoring me and avoiding me. Why, Owen? I thought we were best friends.” She let out a little sob—a sound so forlorn and lonely, it broke his heart.

  Owen couldn’t help himself. He had to pull her into his arms and comfort her. Leah’s tears stirred something inside him, some protective instinct so fierce, it was almost primal. He hated to see her cry, because he felt her pain as if it were his own. “C’mon now, little sister,” he murmured into her hair as he held her tight. “Everything is going to be okay.”

  “Is it really?” She shifted against him, and he felt her breasts brush his bare chest. Her little pointed nipples were stiff under the stretchy lace of her nightgown, and her breath was warm and enticing against his neck. Had he thought he was hard before? His cock was painfully rigid now, tenting his plain blue boxers, making him ache for her in a way that was anything but brotherly.

  “Yeah, sure,” he said uneasily. Her face in the moonlight was ethereal, her features so finely sculpted, she might have been an alabaster statue. But statues didn’t cry, and he could see the tracks of tears streaking down her flushed cheeks. Tears he had put there. “Don’t cry, Leah,” he begged. “C’mon, please don’t.”

  “I…I can’t help it.” The words came out in another choked sob. “I thought…thought you didn’t love me anymore. That you didn’t care.”

  “Of course I care.” His heart ached for her, for the sorrow in those big azure eyes. Without thinking about it, he lowered his head and gently pressed his lips to her eyelids, kissing away her tears. They tasted salty and sweet at the same time, and somehow he found himself kissing her mouth next.

  Leah stiffened against him at first and then melted into the kiss, giving herself with an unconditional sweetness that started a fire inside him. A fire that could easily get out of control and burn them both, Owen knew. But he didn’t care—couldn’t care. Though he had never made a single sexual advance on her before, somehow holding Leah in his arms and kissing her seemed incredibly natural, like something he’d been waiting all his life to do.

  Inside he knew it was wrong, but it felt so right. It felt like coming home, like finding a part of himself he hadn’t even known was lost. Leah fit so neatly into his arms, and her mouth was perfect under his. Pliant and warm and eager—she opened her lips to him, inviting his tongue to explore her, an invitation Owen accepted eagerly. God, so good. So sweet… She was in his lap now, pressing against him, her nightgown riding up to her waist and the soft, warm crotch of her virginal white panties rubbing against the straining ridge of his cock as the kiss became even more passionate.

  Oh, Leah. Want you. Want you so much. Need you so much. All he could think about was taking her. Of rolling her under him and pushing the damp cotton panties to one side to fit the head of his cock into her soft, wet pussy. She would be tight—so tight—but he would be gentle, and somehow he knew they would fit together perfectly. Like a key sliding into a lock. The perfect fit…

  “Owen? Leah? Are you two still up?” The sound of his mother’s voice startled him out of the dreamlike state of lust, and Owen quickly shoved his sister off his lap.

  Oh my God, what’s wrong with me? What did I almost do?

  Beside him, Leah was panting, her cheeks flushed and her blonde hair tousled. She looked up at him uncertainly, obviously coming down from the same high he’d been on. Looking at her, Owen had a realization. She would have let me. Would have pulled down her panties and spread her legs with no questions asked. I could be inside her right now, filling her, taking her virginity, and she would have given it without question. Because she loves me. Because she trusts me.

  He never felt more unworthy of that love and trust. He was a monster. A beast. A pervert. What else could you call a guy who made out with his own little sister? Who tried to steal her innocence in the middle of the night?

  “Leah?” Their mother’s voice was closer.

  “I’m fine, Mom.” Leah’s voice didn’t waver at all. In fact, she sounded perfectly normal. “I was just saying good-bye to Owen now since he’s going so early in the morning.”

  “All right, then, but be sure you let him get some sleep.” Their mother’s voice faded. Obviously she was headed back down the hallway toward her own room. “He’s got a long drive ahead of him tomorrow.”

  “Okay, Mom,” Leah called back, sounding slightly bored. There was a long, breathless silence, and then Owen heard the door to his parents’ room click. Immediately Leah turned to him. “What was that?” she asked in a low voice.

  “That was why you shouldn’t be in here.” Leah started to lean in to him again, but Owen roughly pushed her away. “Go on, get out of my room. Go away.”

  “But…but, Owen.” She looked at him in hurt bewilderment. “I thought—”

  “Never mind what you thought,” he snapped. “Just get out.”

  “I…I…” Her eyes were filling up again, but this time he didn’t let h
er tears move him. Couldn’t let them move him. Though it killed him to see her cry and know he was the cause of her misery, better that than risk repeating what had almost just happened between them.

  “What part don’t you understand?” he said, making his voice deliberately rough and angry. “Get…out.”

  “But we should talk—”

  “I never want to talk to you again.” The words came out before he could stop them, before he could temper them and make them more gentle. Then again, gentle wouldn’t have deterred her. Leah was too persistent for that. And he had to get rid of her, had to get her out of his room. Already he could feel himself wanting her again, wanting to take her in his arms and kiss that sweet mouth, to feel her warm, soft body pressed against his own. Wrong—what he felt was so wrong, and she was too innocent to see it. I’m so sorry, Leah. But I have to. Have to hurt you to keep you safe.

  “You…you don’t mean that,” she whispered as the tears overflowed and streaked down her cheeks. “You can’t mean that, Owen.”

  “I do mean it,” he said fiercely. “Every word.”

  “I’m sorry,” she cried. “Sorry I kissed you. I know I shouldn’t have, but it just felt so…so right. I swear it’ll never happen again, though. Please, Owen, just let me stay so we can talk about this.”

  He almost agreed. Almost pulled her close and whispered that they would work it out. That they would deal with whatever this weird thing was that had suddenly sprouted between them like a green and virulent weed. But if he did that—if he allowed himself to touch her again, even in friendship—he would be lost.

  I won’t stop next time. Won’t be able to stop. And she’ll let me, no questions asked. Unbidden, the image of Leah opening herself for him surfaced in his mind. He could almost see her—head thrown back to bare her white throat, her hair flowing over his pillow like molten gold as she moaned his name while he entered her. Took her. Took what wasn’t his to take and what he could never give back.

  “No,” he said, hardening his heart. “No, get out, Leah. I never want to talk about this again.”

  “But we’re best—”

  “Stop it with that shit. I’m not your best friend, okay?” He deliberately chose the most cutting words he could find. “Did it ever occur to you that the reason I’ve been avoiding you is that I don’t need my pain-in-the-ass sister tagging along everyplace I go? You’re just a kid, Leah. I’ve got more important things to do than waste time with you.”

  The words were like an arrow in her heart; he could tell from the stricken expression on her face. But at least he was getting through to her.

  “Okay,” she mumbled, climbing off the bed. “I guess I’ll go.”

  “Good. Leave me alone for once.” He kept his voice rough and mean, but he was dying inside. The look on her face was so hurt, so broken. And he was the one who was hurting her. He would rather cut off one of his hands than see her in such pain. But it had to be done.

  “Bye.” She turned for the door, stumbling as her tears blinded her. Owen felt a lump in his throat, but he held it back grimly. He couldn’t afford to let her see how much this was hurting him. How much he still cared.

  Leah got to the door of his room, but before she opened it, she turned to face him once more. “Owen,” she said in a low, choked voice. “I don’t care how you feel about me. I…I love you, big brother. I love you, and I always will.”

  Before he could answer, she slipped out the door and was gone, closing it quietly behind her. It was on the tip of his tongue to call her back. To tell her it was all a joke. Or better yet to explain what he was feeling and apologize for what had almost happened.

  But I can’t. I can’t because I still want her too much. Why can’t I stop wanting her? He lay back in bed and put an arm over his eyes. He couldn’t help remembering the look on her face as she’d told him she loved him. Couldn’t help replaying her last words over and over in his mind.

  The worst thing was, it wasn’t just lust he felt for her. When he’d held her in his arms, it was as though she belonged there. As though she was the one person in the entire world—in the entire universe—who could complete him and make him whole. Owen had always felt that way about Leah to a certain extent, but this… What had happened tonight had taken things to a completely new level.

  He almost felt as though he had glimpsed another dimension—a world filled with beauty and light and utter perfection. Heaven. He could almost hear the rush of angels’ wings when he’d held her. But it was a world that was forever forbidden to him, because Leah was the key to it. No, she is the lock. I am the key. Owen didn’t know where the strange thought came from, but it felt right. Just as holding Leah in his arms had felt right even though it was wrong. So terribly, terribly wrong.

  “I love you, and I always will,” she had said. Tears slipped down his cheeks as Owen realized he would have to live on the memory of those words for the rest of his life. Never again could he risk being alone with her, being close to her. Never again could he draw comfort from Leah or comfort her in turn. Because he couldn’t trust himself, not when he wanted her so badly, needed her so much.

  “Oh, Leah,” he whispered, feeling more miserable and alone than he ever had in his life. “I’m so sorry. I love you too.”

  * * *

  Owen sighed and pinched the bridge of his nose, trying to banish the painful memory. Since that night, he had deliberately and systematically cut Leah out of his life. He had stopped coming home for the holidays and had taken summer classes in order to stay away from her. He had almost never returned her phone calls, and he had burned the letters she sent him, unopened.

  Their parents had been mystified as to the cause of the rift between them; they had always been so close. Owen had waited to see if Leah would say anything, and for a while, every time his mother called, his heart would be in his throat. Would she accuse him of molesting his little sister? Call him a monster and a pervert? It was what he deserved, and in a way, he craved it. He wanted to be punished for the way he felt. But it never came up, and at last, he knew it wasn’t going to. Leah had kept that night to herself. It was their little secret, he thought bitterly. One that would never be told, even though it had ripped them apart.

  For a time he had hoped his feelings would fade, that he would get over Leah and move on to someone else. He had tried dating other women during med school and even into his residency, but nothing ever came of those relationships. No one else interested him; no one else made his heart pound and his palms damp. No one else felt like the missing part of his heart.

  I still love her. God help me, but I do. Even now, more than ten years later, I still want her so much… The forgotten chart lay in front of him, but it might as well have been written in Mandarin for all the sense it made. All he could see was his sister’s face, her eyes filled with tears as she whispered her final endearment.

  They were at odds now, always fighting whenever they did get together, which was almost never. Owen had seen to that. He knew she was hurting, knew she wondered why he’d thrown up a wall between them. But he had to live with that, with knowing he had caused her pain. As much as he cared for Leah, as much as he loved her, he could never explain. Could never tell her why he was so cruel and dismissive. Why he always had to keep her at an arm’s length…

  “Thanks for the bath. I think I feel better now.”

  Owen jerked his head up, his train of thought shattered. With her long blonde hair in damp waves around her shoulders, Leah was standing before him, wearing his dark blue [0]bathrobe and nothing else.

  Chapter Four

  Owen’s eyes were wide and haunted, his face almost stricken as he looked at her. It was as though he’d seen a ghost—or maybe some other ethereal spirit floating in front of him.

  “Uh, sorry. I didn’t mean to startle you.” Leah looked at him uneasily. “Are you all right? You seem…upset.” That was putting it mildly, but she didn’t want to pry too much. Owen always snapped at her if she tried to get
too personal, and God knew she didn’t feel like being snapped at tonight.

  For a moment he just stared at her, running his gaze over her in an almost hungry way. Then he seemed to come back to himself and quickly looked down to stare at the medical chart in front of him. “I’m fine. Just busy getting ready for this surgery.”

  “Oh.” She shifted awkwardly. “Well, I didn’t mean to interrupt you. I was wondering where your guest room is. I mean, I didn’t want to just go opening doors without asking, so—”

  “I don’t have one,” he said brusquely. When he looked up, the hunger in his eyes had been replaced by irritation. “This is a one-bedroom loft. I didn’t expect to have visitors when I bought it.”

  “I’m sorry.” Why did he always have to make her feel so unwanted? “I…I can sleep on the couch,” she said. “I’ll just… Do you have any extra blankets? I’m so cold.” She was shivering and in fact, she’d been feeling worse and worse in the past hour, though she didn’t want to admit it. The last thing she needed was to be sick in a town she knew nothing about—especially since she was sure Owen would kick her out first thing tomorrow.

  “Don’t be an idiot. You can have my room.” He got up and nodded for her to follow him. “Come on. It’s this way.”

  “I couldn’t take your room, Owen,” she protested. “You have to get a good night’s sleep so you can operate tomorrow.”

  “It’s fine. Just a routine hip nailing. I could do it in my sleep.”

  “But I feel so bad.”

  “Well, don’t.” He threw open the door across from the bathroom, revealing a spacious, high-ceilinged bedroom dominated by a four-poster king-size bed. The bed, which had intricately carved posts, was very high, with a thick mattress and a fluffy dark green duvet covered in a blue diamond pattern. It was both opulent and extremely masculine somehow. The rest of the furniture was plain in comparison, but the bedroom still managed to feel forbidding.