Page 61 of Under an Endless Moon

And it was the memory of those eyes that had me tightening my grip around my cock, pumping myself hard and fast as I replayed the need that had thrummed between us as if it was music rather than utter blasphemous temptation.

Because that’s exactly what this was.

Blasphemous.

I had to support myself with my free hand on the shower wall as I came so fuckin’ hard that I bent in two. Thinking about her this way. Wanting to say fuck it and walk straight back out to that bed and crawl back into it with her.

It’d make me nothing but a liar and a traitor.

I’d promised River.

And I’d promised myself.

Groaning through the blissful agony, I let myself relish in the ecstasy for one second more before I forced myself to tuck it back in the tight box where I kept it locked.

I blamed my weakness on the fact I’d had to sleep tangled with her last night. The way protectiveness had bound me in a fist when I’d heard those cries. The way old rage wanted to come barreling back at the sight of her scars this morning.

And that tat. Fuck. It did too many things to me all at once. Gutted me and lifted me, pride swelling so high all while I’d felt like I was on my knees.

Baby sister.

Baby sister.

Chanting it never seemed to make it any truer, though. But I couldn’t give into this. Only thing I could do was go back out there and act like it’d never happened like I’d told her we had to do.

I washed myself then turned off the spray, climbing from the shower as I grabbed a towel and dried off.

Clicking open the door, I peeked back out into my room to find the bed was empty.

I didn’t know if I was disappointed or relieved.

I tossed the towel to the floor, then pulled on clean underwear, jeans, and a tee.

Then I cracked open the door to the scent of fresh-brewed coffee filling the air.

It was still early, the morning just beginning to fully take to the sky, the sound of the woods coming alive around us.

But the real light was in my kitchen. The woman was still wearing my tee like a dress. That black mass of hair piled up high on her head.

Legs and feet bare.

Fuck me.

She was nothing but a fantasy. A wicked, tormenting fantasy because I couldn’t allow myself to go having thoughts like this. It was hard enough on the daily. But with her staying under my roof? It was already proving to be torture.

The best kind of torture because she didn’t act shy or weird after what’d happened.

She just tossed me one of those mischievous grins as she poured a mug of coffee. “Thank God you have fresh beans from Morning Dew Brewhouse.” She groaned. “This girlie cannot be expected to start her day without it. How did you know it’s my favorite?”

I took the three steps down to the main floor, my feet bare on the cool tile. “Know most of your favorites, Raven. It’s my job.”

I tugged at an errant piece of her hair as I passed, and I casually strode for the refrigerator like I hadn’t told her fifteen minutes ago that I’d be the luckiest bastard alive if I got to touch her.

I opened it and pulled out the Italian Sweet Cream creamer and waved it between us. “Like this.”

Letting go of a feigned gasp, she touched her chest. “You really do know me, Otto Hudson. I’m honored.”

“That’s right, I do.” I set it down in front of her.

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