Page 10 of Our Long Days
She’s a forbidden fruit.
Never once on my radar until tonight.
Not in that way, at least.
Sure, she’s always been pretty and vibrant and larger than life. It’s impossible to forget her, but she’s always been Pat’s sister—Little Sadler—only now, she’s all grown up.My eyes trail to her chest, and the urge to slide my tongue along her delicate collarbone is primal. I’d nip at her earlobe and kiss along her jaw to those plush lips. I admire her, hoping the erection pushing against my jeans isn’t obvious, and when my eyes land on hers, I find her watching me back with as much intensity, if not more.
Her gaze is expectant, my desire mirrored.
With every sip of amber liquid and tick of the clock, the obstacle of who her brother is shrank, leaving me utterly clueless on how to navigate this unexpected evening.
Would she taste like whiskey if I allowed myself one bite? Smoky, spicy, and with a hint of vanilla. Or would it be tropical, matching the intoxicating scent of her?
We’re in a fog, dancing in the fumes of the alcohol. That’s the only explanation for the heady sensation causing my heartto stutter when her tongue peeks out, brushing the tip of my thumb. Her pulse thrums against my index finger, rhythmic and steady, like the string of a guitar.
“Can you distract me some more?” Her breathy voice, paired with the feel of her soft skin under my rough hands, has all my wires crossing, all sense fleeing.
My hand falls, resting between her neck and shoulder.
I’m well versed in wanting a distraction from the trials of life.
To need a temporary fix that clears the onslaught of thoughts stuck on repeat.
We gave each other that tonight. An evening between two friends.
With her cloaked in shadows, backlit by the smoldering fire, and wrapped in flannel, the distraction she seeks now is different. I know that. She knows that. And god-fucking-dammit, I’ve never been one to act coy, yet here I am, ignoring the facts.
This is Pat’s sister.
We’re tipsy.
I don’t do relationships.
Emotions drive our actions.
She’s gorgeous in the fire’s glow and in my shirt.
“Is that a good idea?” My thumb settles in the divot at the base of her throat.
Her eyes dance across my face, chest rising and falling. “One time. One more distraction.” Her fingers wrap around my wrist, squeezing slightly. “We won’t know if it’s a good idea until we try.”
She’s bold. Bold and beautiful and chaos—an explosive trio.
Has she always been this way?
I’m bewitched, mouth unable to form words.
That moment of hesitancy snaps something in her.
A flash of panic washes over Florence’s face. She scrambles out of my hold and off the sofa.
Fuck.
“Florence…” I say carefully.
She holds out her palms, stopping me as I slowly stand. “No. No. My god, just stay there.” Her eyes dart toward the darkened hallway leading to the bedrooms. “Please forget this happened. Scrub it from your brain. I’m sorry.”
I watch, dumbstruck, as she sprints away. The slamming of a door follows, and then silence.
