by K. Webster
I relax and run my fingers through my dirty hair. “I’ll be there. See you soon.”
“I love you,” she says.
“You too.”
I click off my phone and spend the next half hour unloading the truck. My mind is elsewhere as I shower and get ready. When I finally emerge from the bathroom, Rylie is passed out on the couch. She’s wearing a pair of my Razorback sweats and a tank top. Her hair is pulled back in a ponytail, still wet, and her nose and cheeks are red from sunburn.
I should let her sleep.
Slip away to avoid hurting her feelings.
But…
I tickle her bare foot until her eyes flutter open.
“Amy wants us to come to a block party,” I lie. “You could get away from Aunt Becky.”
She sits up and yawns before standing. “You don’t have to ask me twice. I’ll be ready in twenty minutes.” She bounds up the stairs, full of energy for someone who was just sleeping.
I’m doing the right thing.
“And we got these in yesterday,” Amy chirps as she shows me some new candles.
I don’t fucking care about candles, but I force a smile anyway.
“Nice.”
A customer asks Amy a question about the candles and she starts animatedly telling them all about them. I sneak away on a hunt for Rylie. She leans against a wall staring at the ground, looking sorely out of place. My eyes rake over her appearance and I wonder when she grew up. She’s wearing a navy-blue floral print dress, a denim jacket, and cowgirl boots. It looks like something Aunt Becky bought for her and I’m happy she’s at least trying to make our aunt happy.
Her hair has been twisted into a messy bun and tendrils frame her face. She took the time to put on some mascara and lipstick, but the red on her cheeks is natural from the sun. It strikes me that she’s really pretty. Too pretty.
Jerking my head around, I wonder if others see it too. A guy close to her age standing with another guy keeps flickering his eyes over to her. A surge of annoyance rises up inside of me.
“Let’s take a walk. She’s going to be here for a while,” I say to Rylie.
She lifts her gaze and regards me with a warm smile. “I’d like to get out of here.”
Side by side, we walk past the boy with the wandering eyes and I glower at him until he looks away. Once outside in the warm evening air, I sling my arm over Rylie’s shoulder and walk her along the sidewalk. She leans into me as we walk, her arm hugging me at my waist.
“Chocolate?” I ask, pointing at the chocolatier store.
“How about Dizzy Dunlap’s?”
The store sticks out like a sore thumb. A strobe light flickers from inside the window. The scent of incense is strong as we walk through the doorway. The place is crowded and dark and loud. A Jimi Hendrix song plays on the speakers.
“This place is insane,” I say, leaning into her ear.
She looks at me and grins, the black light making her teeth look whiter and her skin darker. Her hand wraps around mine and she drags me deeper into the store. I let her guide me until we’re in a room that has people sitting on couches and mismatched chairs. Just as a couple vacates an oversized chair, we steal it. I fall into the chair and she sits on the arm. In the dark corner of the room, I let my gaze roam up her tanned-looking thigh. She props her ankles up on the other arm so her legs are stretched across me.
“What do you want for your birthday next month?” I ask, having to yell over the loud music.
“A tattoo.”
I raise my brows. “A tattoo? Where?”
“Here,” she says and runs her finger along her ribs.
“Mom would shit.”
She shrugs. “Mom isn’t here.”
We’re both quiet for a moment.
“I’ll take you. It can be my present to you,” I tell her, my voice gruff.
She leans forward and hugs my neck. “Thanks, bro.”
When she pulls away, my eyes once again travel to her slender legs. I slide my knuckle along the underside of her calf. The hairs on her leg are prickly.
“You forgot to shave,” I tease.
Her smile falls and she stares at me as though I’ve struck her. “You don’t have to be an asshole.” She starts to get up, but I grip her wrist just as she’s standing.
“What’s wrong?”
Her bright white eyes under the black light shimmer with tears. “I can’t shave.”
“Why not?”
“Because Aunt Becky won’t let me!”
She tries to jerk away from me, but I’m stronger. I tug her into my lap and hug her to me. At first she’s stiff, but then she relaxes. Her body curls into mine and her tears soak my shirt.
“Shhh,” I murmur as I stroke her back over her denim jacket.
“She’s afraid I’ll cut myself.”
Rylie
His fingers rubbing up and down my spine stop their ministrations. “She’s just trying to protect you,” he says, his voice gruff.
“I don’t need protecting.” I start to get up again, but his palm grips my bare thigh, stopping me. Heat floods through me. I should move his hand, but I find my body turning to jello at his touch.
“Yes, you do.” His fingers rub along my skin in a comforting way.
I shiver. “I don’t. I’m not going to cut my wrists with a shaving razor. Do you know how embarrassing it is being told you can’t shave your own body when you’re almost eighteen years old?”
His brows furl together. “I’ll do it for you.”
I blink at him. “You’ll shave my legs?”
“And under your arms.”
Images of him in the shower with me, shaving my legs while I hold the removable showerhead between my thighs flood through my mind, causing my flesh to heat.
“You’re blushing,” he teases, his palm never leaving my thigh.
Because I’m sick.
Because I want you in ways I shouldn’t.
“I am not.”
Under the black light, his eyes seem wild and untamed. Dangerous even. I like seeing him like this. Daring and carefree.
“There you are!”
Amy’s voice has me jerking out of Hudson’s lap and straightening my dress. He jumps to his feet and shoots me an intense look before accepting her hug. She looks past him at me, jealousy flaring in her eyes. The jealousy is much brighter and obvious in this place.
I want to remind her he’s my brother.
That she can’t be jealous of our relationship because we’re family.
“Come on, guys. The band I wanted you to see is about to start,” Amy chirps. She tugs at Hudson’s hand and pulls him away from me.
All I can do is follow.
Alone.
We exit the hazy store and Amy babbles to people along the way that she knows. They meet up with a group of kids they went to high school with. I recognize a few faces, siblings of the older kids. Nobody I talk to. The group migrates past herds of people to a stage that’s been set up in the middle of the street.
My mouth waters when I get a whiff of turkey legs being cooked by a vendor parked nearby. I want to ask Hudson if he wants to share one like when we were kids, but he’s in a heated conversation with some guy about baseball. I drift away until I find a bench.
If Mom were here, she’d be complaining about the shoes she’d worn. Always a trend setter but not a practical one. Dad would offer to carry her on his back. She’d deny him, of course, because he was always in pain. Hudson would kick off his tennis shoes and offer them to Mom, saying he didn’t care if he went barefoot. We’d all laugh—
“Anyone sitting here?” a voice asks.
I look up to see a boy I’d noticed in Amy’s store staring at me. He goes to school with me. Travis Mayes. “All yours,” I reply.
He sits down and his thigh brushes against mine. “This band sucks.”
Laughing, I glance up at the stage. “They do. She likes them, though.” I point at Amy as she dances like an idiot. Hudson is st
ill deep in conversation with the one guy.
“You should come with me and my buddies to Club Exodus one night. The bands are way better than this.”
“Isn’t Club Exodus twenty-one and up?”
His grin is devious. “Before my brother went to prison, he broke into the DMV and stole a bunch of shit. I make fake IDs all the time for my friends.” He nudges my shoulder with his. “I could get you one, friend. Whatever you want, I can make it happen. I have my ways, thanks to my brother.”
“He sounds like a great influence,” I deadpan.
He snorts, but his eyes are twinkling. “My brother taught me everything I know. I’m just smarter than him. If you ever need anything, I can get it for you. I’m cheap too.”
“I’ll keep that in mind,” I say and then groan. “This band really does suck.”
“Definitely sucks. By the way, I haven’t seen you lately in first hour,” he says. “Everything okay besides, you know…?”
I jerk my head over to look at him. “Besides losing my mom and dad on the same night? Everything is peachy.”
“I didn’t mean it like that,” he mutters. “I just wondered how things were at home.”
Tears burn my eyes and I choke on my words, irrationally angry at him. “Home? Travis, I have no home. The only home I knew is being rented out by another family now.”
“Hey,” he tries gently, his hand patting my thigh. “I was only saying—”
“Rylie,” Hudson barks.
When I look up, Hudson stands in front of me, his hands fisted at his sides. Fury rolls off him in waves. I can tell he’s seconds away from knocking his fist through Travis’s nose.
“I’m fine,” I croak out.
Travis jerks his hand away and rises to his feet. “I’ll see you around, Rylie.”
Hudson, with his jaw clenched, watches Travis until he disappears into the crowd. Then, he turns his intense glare my way.
“Aren’t they great?” Amy says as she dances over to us. Her big boobs bounce and I hate her. I hate her because she’s been with my brother. He’s been inside her. I hate her for that.
“Yep,” Hudson and I both answer at the same time.
He smirks at me and we share a silent moment. The band sucks.
“Let’s dance.” She grabs his hands and tries to get him to move to the music.
“Actually,” he says with a frown. “Aunt Becky called. She wants Rylie to come home. It’s getting late.”
“Oh.” Her bottom lip pouts out. “I’ll see you tomorrow then?”
“Yeah, of course.”
She stands on her toes and runs her fingers through his hair, drawing him to her mouth. They kiss and I want to throw up. I hurry to my feet and start for the truck to give them their privacy. But before I get too far away, Hudson falls into step beside me.
“You didn’t have to stop making out on my account,” I say bitterly.
He doesn’t say anything until we’re in the parking lot, walking between cars. We find his truck, but he doesn’t get in. Instead, he follows me over to my side and stops me before I can climb inside.
“Who was that guy?” he demands.
I stare at him with my mouth hanging open. “Travis? He’s a kid from school.”
“Stay away from him. He’s trouble.” He crosses his arms over his chest, accentuating how big his biceps are.
Rolling my eyes, I shove him away from me. “Why do you care?”
He stalks forward and pulls me to him against his solid chest. “Because I do.”
I melt against him and wrap my arms around his middle. He hugs me so tight I wonder if he’ll crush my ribs. I like it. I like being suffocated by him. His grip relaxes and he rubs my back.
“Come on,” he murmurs. “Aunt Becky didn’t really call. That music was just shitty and I was so fucking over it.”
I laugh as he pulls away and grabs my hand. We link fingers. He guides me between cars until we reach a park. It’s dark, but the moon shines down on the playground equipment, giving it a haunted quality.
“Do you remember when you ran away?” I ask him, a giggle tumbling from me.
He flashes me a boyish grin that makes my stomach clench. “I was mad.”
“You struck out.”
“And, at the time, it was the end of the world.”
“Mom was so worried, but I knew where you’d go,” I tell him with a smile.
He guides me to the swing set and we both sit down.
“When I saw you, I thought you were there to rat me out,” he admits. “But…”
“I was running away too.” My voice is cheerful. I remember I packed my little Barbie backpack and filled it with snacks Hudson likes. When Mom was fretting, I snuck away to go find my brother.
“I was mad at first, but then I was happy you were there because I was fucking hungry,” he says. “And bored.”
I push off on the swing. The wind from the movement makes my dress fly up. A shiver ripples through me. Hudson doesn’t move, simply rocks a little in his swing. Pumping harder and harder, I try to see how high I can go. This used to be a game I’d play with myself when I was younger—to see if I could flip all the way around. I never could.
Hudson gets up and walks the perimeter of the playground, his eyes never leaving me. I watch as he climbs the playset like he’s a monkey. He disappears inside the tower. When I’m as high as I think I’ll go, I jump off the swing and land with a thud. Then, I run after him. I climb to the top and find him sitting with his back against the wood railing. The space is small, but there’s enough room for me to sit next to him.
“Rylie?”
“Yeah?”
“My head hurts.”
I frown and turn to look at him. “Are you sick?”
His intense green eyes bore into mine. “Very.”
“Do you need medicine?”
He shakes his head. “I don’t think so.”
“I’m sorry.”
His hand finds mine and he threads his fingers with mine. “I’m not.”
My heart races at his words. “Travis is just some kid from my class. You don’t have to…” Be jealous. “Worry.”
“I need help,” he murmurs. “Advice.”
I turn my body and sit cross-legged facing him. “I can try.”
His eyes roam from my eyes to my lips to my throat. Then, he rakes them down the rest of my body until they land on our hands. Mine covers his and his has settled on my bare thigh.
“I’m worried about me and Amy,” he murmurs. “I think we need a break.”
I let out a ragged breath. “How come?”
“I’m too distracted.”
“By what?”
“You.”
Heat prickles across my skin and I bite on my bottom lip. Embarrassment floods through me, but it’s mixed with delight.
“You’re smiling,” he says and he smiles too. “You’re happy.”
“I’m not,” I lie.
He smirks. “So what do I do about it?”
“I don’t know.” I shiver. It’s not cold, but my nerves are alive.
“Come here,” he growls.
I sit up and slide into his lap, straddling him. I wait for him to tell me I’m sitting on him in an inappropriate way, but he rests his hands on my lower back and smiles at me. Our eyes are locked, but neither of us speaks. He’s hard beneath me. My brother’s cock is hard because of me. It makes me want to rub against him, but I’m too shy. I don’t have the nerve to do it even though I desperately want to.
“Still cold?” he rumbles.
“Kinda,” I lie.
I lean forward against his chest and inhale his flesh on his neck. His palms slide to my ass and he pulls me closer. My breath hitches when I rub against his erection through his jeans. He doesn’t take his hands off my butt.
“Hudson,” I whisper. I want to ask him what’s happening. Ask him why I like it so much. If I didn’t fear his rejection, I’d ask him if he wants it too.
He
pulls me to him again, his fingers digging into my ass. Another mewl escapes me. I rub my lips along his neck. The urge to lick him is overwhelming, but I refrain, just barely.
“Fuck, Rylie.” His voice is pained. Fingers bite into me once more as he uses my body for friction. “Fuck.”
I lift up to look at him. His green eyes flare with emotion. Need and desire. For me. I’m drunk off the look. I slide my fingers into his hair.
I want to kiss him.
Sick. Sick. Sick.
He grinds me against him again. This time, a loud moan rips from my throat. His wild eyes lock with mine. Pleading and begging. For what? I don’t know.
My panties are soaked and I wonder if he can smell my arousal. It’s heady and thick in the air. I should be ashamed because he’s my brother, but he’s got the fever too.
Lost and sick.
Sick and lost.
His palms abandon my ass and then slide up my thighs. Fire blazes in his orbs. I rock against him, urging him on. He groans and his fingers slip under my dress. We both suck in a sharp breath.
“Rylie,” he groans.
I dip forward and kiss his lips. Like last night in the tent. Softly. Unsure. And he bites me like he’s done before. But this time not on my jaw. On my bottom lip. He lets go and our lips press together again.
I’m on fire.
The fever—this sickness—is maddening me.
I part my lips and breathe into his mouth. I suck in his scent. Steal his air. Devour his groan. His tongue brushes along mine. It’s foreign in my mouth, but I like the taste. An instant addiction. I want more.
Two thumbs slide along the seams of my panties on my thighs. I’m in a crazed state because I want him to slip them under the fabric. I grind harder against him, desperate to feel him everywhere.
“Hudson,” I murmur against his mouth. “More.”
He groans and slides his palms up under my dress to my hips. With his hands, he uses me to dry fuck him. We’re both sick, sick, sick. I’m growing dizzy with the need to come. It’s more powerful and intense than any time in the shower. This is real. My fantasy come to life.
I’m so close.
So close.
His phone starts ringing and we both freeze. I pull away to find his panicked eyes on mine.