Page 113 of Until I Own You

I hold her daquiri as she shimmies onto the stool, trying not to stare at the beautiful profile of her cleavage as she does so.

I’ve seen her naked more times than I can count now and yet eyeing her in public feels taboo. Like someone might see and point at me, announce to the world that I’m sexualizing someone who in the eyes of society is my stepsister.

Except I said fuck you to that identifier since the moment we met.

As soon as Bridget is on her stool…we are silent again. Watching as Jack and Abigail fight over who has the next line on stage.

I clear my throat. “You having a good night?”

“Yeah. Are you?”

I nod and tap my fingers against my beer bottle. “Yeah, I am.”

Bridget scans the room. “See anyone you like?”

My insides balk. “Don’t insult me like that.”

Her green eyes widen. “I–I’m sorry.”

I scan our surroundings.

No one seems concerned with the two New Yorkers on the corner.

So, I dare. In a delicate fashion, I place my fingertips against her knee, clock her expression to see if my touch is welcomed.

Bridget’s back straightens. She’s not good at the subtle card. But she isn’t saying no.

I increase my touch.

My fingers, my palm, splayed out on her knee.

“You know I’m only looking at you.” I rub my thumb across the fabric of her dress.

Her skin heats through the fabric.

“May I say something? I don’t want to upset you by speaking out of turn.”

“We’re not in the Underground, Bridget. There are rules, but not like that.”

“Sometimes, I don’t know what’s allowed or not and that…” She bites her lower lip.

Fuck. I might be a good Dom behind closed doors but out in the world, our relationship has always been too complicated for me to treat her like this is something easy. “I don’t want you to be scared of me, Bridget. That’s not the point of any of this.”

Her eyes are downcast into the daquiri. “I want to please you.”

“You do. All the time. You always have.” I smile and lean closer. Perhaps too close for people who are supposed to be siblings, but fuck that.

Jack and Abigail are the only people who know us here, and they’re in the midst of a rousing, off-tune chorus.

“I didn’t know that until we started training, though,” Bridget says.

My heart is starting to race. The edges of a rejection fray her voice. Or maybe I’m imagining it.

“I still am not used to you…liking me…” Her blush is apparent even in the darkened tiki bar.

I swallow. “I guess we haven’t had a lot of opportunities for me to show you out in the world how I feel about you.”

“No, we haven’t,” she says in her soft, Bridget way.

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