Page 26 of Taboo
I shake my head and move towards her, my bare feet silent on the tiles. “Nah. Too much on my mind.” I lean against the counter, my arms crossing over my chest, and her eyes flicker down to my chest, just for a moment, before returning my gaze. The air between us hums, a quiet charge I can’t ignore. “Your hair looks beautiful like that,” I say, the words slipping out before I can stop them.
Her cheeks flush, a delicate pink that makes my chest tighten. “Thanks,” she murmurs, tucking a strand behind her ear. “It’s… I’ve got Sara to thank for this transformation.”
Hearing Sara’s name on her lips changes the air in the room. It feels suddenly colder.
“Well, it looks good,” I say, my voice rougher than I intended. I force myself to look away, to the steaming cup, the open laptop, anything but her. “I hope you’re happy here,” I start, my words careful. “I know I haven’t been around much. I just…” I pause, my gaze meeting hers.
Her face is completely innocent and unguarded. There is something so fragile about her as her fingers curl around her teacup handle. The steam rises in delicate spirals as she bringsit towards her mouth. That mouth that I want to see wrapped around my cock. That irresistibly plump mouth.
And just like that, the truth spills out, raw and unfiltered. “I want to be honest, Amelia. I want to spend as much time with you as I can. You’re my sister, and you need family right now, especially after… everything. But I still have these thoughts, these… lingering feelings, and I don’t want to do anything wrong, anything abominable. I’d love to be freer with you, to be close, but when I’m around you, I lose my head sometimes. If I cross a line, if I step too far, please… stop me.”
Her eyes become saucers of stormy emotions—surprise, understanding, guilt, and something else more subtle that I can’t quite catch. My heart pounds. I’m exposed and vulnerable. I wait, the silence stretching, thick with the weight of my confession. I’ve laid it all bare, my fear, my want, my need to be her brother, even as I fight the lustful man who loves her in ways he shouldn’t. I brace for her response, every second an eternity.
“Okay,” she says finally, her voice soft, steady, but it’s like she’s holding back a tide.
Her eyes hold mine, and I see it—the unspoken ache that mirrors my own, but the resolve never to cross that line again.
I nod, my throat tight, relief and regret tangling in my chest.
“Okay,” I echo, my voice barely above a whisper, and we sit there, the moonlight pooling around us. We’re just Max and Amelia, half-brother and half-sister, for as long as we can pretend.
Chapter
Seventeen
AMELIA
The moonlight follows me through the large windows on the landing as I climb the stairs, my bare feet whispering against the polished hardwood. The echo of Max’s words “If I cross a line, please stop me,” rings in my ears.
My heart is heavy, a stone lodged in my chest, as I slip into my room. I sink onto the bed, and the duvet is soft beneath me, but it offers no comfort, not when sadness wraps around me like a shroud.
Max’s struggle, laid bare in the breakfast nook, cuts deep—his voice raw, and his wonderful blue eyes shadowed with guilt, is fighting the same battle I am. He loves me, but not as a sister. The pain of his restraint is a pain I know too well. The only difference is, he doesn’t know the truth. If he knew the truth…. The weight of the truth crushes down on me as I curl my knees to my chest, my arms tight around them, and press my face into the pillow. The ache spills over, and a quiet sob muffled by the pillow escapes me.
Once again, the urge to tell him surges, a reckless impulse to confess that we’re not related, that Dad’s lie stole our chance all those years ago. It would instantly erase his guilt, lift the chain of taboo that binds us. The truth will shred his barely leashed control, the raging fire he’s holding back. I see it in my mind—his hands on me, his lips, the boundaries we’ve fought to keep crumbling in a moment of euphoria.
My body tingles at the thought, and heat starts pooling low, but out of the blue, Jason’s sad little face floats into my mind, and I shut my traitorous thoughts down, hard. I can’t hurt him. I can’t hurt Max’s family, the perfect little world he’s built with Sara and Jason. Jason’s shy, trusting smile, Sara’s generosity, and genuine warmth.
They’re innocent, undeserving of the wreckage my truth could bring.
With a fierce resolve, I clamp my mouth shut and vow to keep my secret locked away. To treat Max as my brother, nothing more. It is the only way to protect them, even if it means burying my heart.
The next morning,Sara’s departure looms. There is already a quiet shift in the house’s rhythm as I come down the stairs. Sara’s suitcases wait by the door, three pieces of matching Louis Vuitton cases. I can hear voices in the living room. For a moment, I stand undecided in the foyer, the morning light streaming through the wide windows. Should I go in?
Then she comes into the foyer. She’s in a soft gray sweater, black jeans, and boots. Her hair is pulled into a neat ponytail. She flashes me a big grateful smile. Jason follows behind her. His gray eyes are solemn. Max comes into the foyer too, his suitcrisp, his jaw tight, and I feel his presence like a current, even as I keep my eyes on Sara.
“Take care of yourself, okay?” I say, my voice warm, stepping closer to hug her. Her arms wrap around me, warm and firm. I smell her perfume, then she pulls back.
Her smile is soft but earnest. “Amelia, thank you so much for agreeing to stay. I hardly know you, but for some reason I feel I can completely trust you to look after Jason for me. I know it’s a lot, but… you’re so good with him. And Max,” she glances at him. “Well, I’m so glad he finally has family with him.”
I nod, my throat tight. “I’ll do my best,” I promise, meaning it, even though the thought of being alone with Max sends shivers through me, a mix of longing and fear. Jason tugs at her hand, and she kneels, kissing his forehead. She whispers something in his ear that makes him nod. Max steps forward and puts his hand on her shoulder. I realize it’s the first intimate thing I have seen him do to her, and I quickly avert my gaze, my heart aching. A couple of staff grab her suitcases, and we all head out to wave her goodbye.
As soon as the car drives off, Max says his goodbyes to us and heads off to work. Jason’s tutor is waiting for him, so he goes to his lessons and I have a solitary breakfast before returning to my studio and my painting.
That evening,I find Maria in the kitchen beginning to make dinner even though she has a splitting headache. I decide to send her back to bed and take over. A slab of beef is waiting on the cutting board, so I decide to make a meal I know Max loves—or loved, back when we were young and eating together in the large kitchen. Beef fried rice, a rich and meaty recipe I haven’t touchedin years because it hurt too much. Every bite would have been a memory of him.
Soon, the kitchen is warm, and the air thick with the scent of sizzling beef and caramelized onions. I move with purpose, chopping mushrooms with a steady rhythm, the knife’s soft thud against the cutting board. Jason comes in and sits at the counter, coloring a dragon I sketched for him, his crayons scratching softly, his small face focused.
My heart races at the thought of Max coming home, of sitting across from him with Jason between us. I realize I am playing house with Sara’s family, and the thought sours my mood, but I push it away and set about laying the dining table. I find linen in the cupboard and candles. I will make it a meal to remember. White plates check. Silverware check. Bowl of flowers check. Bottle of ruby red wine check, and a bowl of steamed green beans, their vibrant color a compliment to the fried rice.
