Page 58 of Aftertaste

Sage froze in the shower, the water thrashing down on her naked body, but I didn’t hesitate. She needed to know how I felt too. She needed to see that she wasn’t the only one with the feelings she had.

I pulled my T-shirt over my head and slipped my shorts off my hips, then opened the shower door. I reached for her immediately, not able to take another second of not touching her. My arm wrapped around her waist, my hand on the side of her neck, as I whispered, “I’m in love with you too.” Her eyes closed, her body relaxing in my hold as soon as she took my words in.

“This is wrong,” she murmured, but there was no conviction behind it. “We shouldn’t do this, Storm.”

I pressed my forehead to hers and held tighter as I lifted her. Her legs wrapped around my waist automatically, her body knowing exactly what it wanted.

“I don’t care about right or wrong,” I told her as I leaned her back to the tiled wall. My lips were so close to hers, a temptation I’d never be able to resist. “All I care about is you.” Her hand grasped the side of my face, her fingers reaching into my now wet hair. “Tell me, Sage.” I pressed my cock to her entrance but didn’t thrust forward. “Tell me you want this, and it’ll be me and you against the world.”

Her breath fanned over my lips, her gaze focused fully on me as she said, “I want this. I want you. More than anything.” That was all I needed to push inside her and show her exactly what she meant to me.Everything. She was everything to me.“Me and you,” she choked out.

“Me and you,” I repeated, silently promising her that I’d never give up on us.

Reckless

Yolanda Olson

Chapter One

Rogan Winstead has always been the bane of my existence.

Ever since we were kids, he made it a point to remind me that he was bigger, stronger, older, and smarter. I hadn’t seen him in years, so when Dad told us that he was coming home for a visit, I didn’t exactly react the way I should have.

And when I was told that he’d be staying with me not to further besmirch the family name, I really flipped my shit.

He got arrested four years ago on a petty larceny charge and was held up until his twenty first birthday. That’s when he outgrew the kiddie prison and got dumped on his ass, back out into the world that he never did quite understand.

I moved out two years later.

My parents were pretty pissed off that the prestigious Winstead name got shit all over when he got arrested, but I’m not sure what else they were expecting out of him. He was bad at school, lacked the fundamental basics of common sense, and damn near hated every last human being he came across.

But I was always his favorite target.

The unwritten rule of being the little sister meant that I was his verbal punching bag whenever he was having a bad day, and I took my lumps without complaining to anyone. When he got arrested, I felt relieved; which is such a shameful thing to admit, but I knew it meant the unnecessary barbs would stop for a while.

Four years went by much too quickly for me, though; I hope my brother has become a better man since he had to be caged to keep that wild boy who scorned the world under control for so long.

“What time?” I asked Dad with a heavy sigh.

There was no way I’d get out of this, so I knew it would just be better to agree to it.

“He should be arriving soon. The driver went with your mother to pick him up about an hour ago and after we’ve had a nice supper, we’ll send you both on your way,” he replied cheerfully.

“And if he doesn’t want to go with me? I’m not exactly his favorite person,” I grumbled, crossing my arms over my chest.

“He will if he wants a place to sleep,” Dad replied in a snipped tone and I sighed again.

There’s no telling Charles Winstead anything different once a gentle suggestion—as he calls them—has been set in stone. I guess his no nonsense bullshit explained why he was such a successful oil tycoon.

Granted, it was handed down to him by Grandpa, but he’s even more ruthless when it comes to trades and his corporation than Grandpa ever was.

It made sense to me that his only son rebelled when he saw what was coming to him. He was the rightful heir to Winstead Industries and wanted nothing to do with it.

Now it’s my damn problem, but I don’t want it either.

I just don’t know how to tell my parents.

However, since I didn’t have any children—being only nineteen myself—and Rogan obviously hadn’t had the chance to knock anyone up yet, one of us had to be responsible for running the proverbial empire.

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