Page 22 of Nocturnal Sins
“I know it won’t.” He walked into the hallway and turned back to look at me. “I know you’re almost eighteen but still, stay away from your brother when it comes down to stuff like drinking and…other things.”
“Drugs?” I asked. Papa’s expression hardened. “I was just asking. I mean that’s why Santana got kicked out of school right?”
“Right. And I don’t want you falling in line behind him. You’re not even in college yet.”
Once he was gone from my room, I collapsed on my bed and tried to stop my mind from running rampant. I decided to paint my nails bubblegum pink then finish up my homework.
None of that shit killed the raging hormones at war in my body. When I heard Papa close his bedroom door at bedtime, I moved to the door beside my dresser and snuck into Santana’s room. I always loved our joined rooms. Now, I loved them even more.
“What’s up, Sammie? Did Pop chew you out for drinking?” Santana’s dark eyes were all over me when I walked in. Even though I had on a t-shirt, he made me feel naked. His gaze burned more than that brown liquor he loved so much.
“He did. He wants me to stay away from your ass. You’re such a horrible influence,” I laughed with my arms folded.
“Did you sober up, Sammie?” My eyes honed in on his full lips and the way his tongue slid over them. I wanted to slide my tongue over them too.
I’d sobered up just fine but standing alone with Santana in his dark bedroom made me feel drunk all over again.
“I think so,” I answered. My words slipped around the knot in my throat making it hard to swallow.
“Come here.” Santana motioned to the free spot on his bed. “I want to talk to you.”
“Are you going to give me a speech about how you were drunk and you shouldn’t have touched me?” I didn’t want to hear that speech if that’s what he was going to say. To hell with that.
He reached out and stroked my cheek. My skin heated under his touch. “That’s not what I was going to say.”
“Then what?” I asked, impatiently. I couldn’t stand being that close to my brother anymore. The way he touched me in the kitchen made everything burn.
I tried to stay clear and focused but every time a thought popped into my head, it fell away. Santana turned my head into a jumble of static mess.
“Do you think I’m fucked up for touching you the way I did?” He ran his knuckles along my thigh and heat spilled into my belly.
“No, Santana. I don’t,” I whispered.
“I do.” His fingers caressed higher on my thigh. Dangerously high. So high that desire trickled through my veins like water.
“Then why are you still touching me?” I quizzed. I marveled at how something as simple as his touch could make me so wet.
“Because I like doing fucked up shit evidently. The question is, do you like it? Or am I screwing up my relationship with you?” His voice sent tendrils of neediness coiling around my middle, holding my core hostage.
I inched closer to him so I could inhale his scent and so I wouldn’t be so far away when I wanted to kiss him. I wanted to kiss him more than I wanted my next breath. I wet my hungry lips and Santana looked at me for an answer.
“You could never fuck up our relationship.”
“You’re not telling me what I need to hear, Sammie.” I’d never seen this side of my brother. He was so intense. His mocha eyes turned to coal when he looked at me. The moment we were snared in plunged us into shadows. It was a murky and tainted moment painted in black sin.
“I like it, Santana.” I didn’t recognize my own voice. It was so whiny. So ravenous.
“Good, because I’m losing my mind right now over how goddamn sexy you are.” My gaze dropped when he adjusted his hard dick. My tongue was so curious. I wanted to taste him. I wanted to feel him sliding in and out of my mouth.
“I can be myself around you, right Santana?” My voice came out in sultry syllables.
“Of course, Sammie. We just admitted that we want to fuck each other. I think we’re past the point of being selectively open and honest. It’s a requirement at this point.”
Was his voice always so gruff? Prickles rained down across my shoulders and arms at the sound of it.
“That night we talked…right before we started avoiding each other, I touched myself when I thought about sitting on your lap. I’ve touched myself every day for the past two weeks thinking about you.” I recognized the flash I saw in Santana’s eyes now. It was lust. He was steeped in it and so was I.
“You touched your pussy and thought about me, Sammie?” The thick bulge in his sweats grew and stretched and it made my bones ache and thrum. If he didn’t touch me, I was going to fucking pop.
