Page 24 of Little Stranger

Debating whether to reply truthfully or not, I decide honesty is key. I nod, and something dangerous flashes behind his eyes. “I don’t see why this is a shock to you. Did you forget Mom has been sending me out on dates for months?”

His jaw hardens, and I swear he looks mad for a second before his expression softens.Can you show me how?

I blink at him. “Show you how to kiss?”

His chin lowers to his chest slowly in a nod.

“Didn’t you hear what I said about the tent situation? I’m your sister,” I whisper, remembering Mom is next door setting up the room with the song on a quiet part. “We would get into so much trouble with our parents.”

No one needs to know. I kept quiet about what happened in the tent, and all the times we’ve slept in bed together.

“But it’s wrong.”

So?

My body burns with anticipation, even though I’m fighting against this. He’s so close, and the proximity is creating a heaviness in my lungs as his gaze drops to my mouth before he gradually raises it back to my eyes.

I would only be comfortable with you teaching me how.

“Are you fucking with me right now?”

Smirking, he shakes his head.

“You promise not to tell anyone?”

He raises his pinkie between us, and I sink my teeth into my bottom lip to suppress a smile as my pinkie hooks around his. The touch of our skin sends shocks of electricity up my arm, down my chest, stopping between my legs, and I try to steady my breaths as I keep our pinkies hooked and shift forward, making sure to fix my towel with my free hand to cover myself.

Malachi is a lot larger than me, in both muscle and height, so he always dominates me when we cuddle in bed—he’s the perfect big spoon. But this is different. This isn’t lying in his arms and fighting my demons, or us watching a movie while his knee randomly bumps into mine, or him carrying me on his back while we jump around the water in the pool or at the beach on vacation.

This is more—I never knew I needed more from him.

I lean up with one straight arm as he rests on his back, so my body is halfway hovering over him. “Are you sure? It doesn’t bother you that we’re brother and sister?”

Stupid question, considering. He raises a brow in response.Stop saying that.

My hair falls around my face, long enough for him to wrap a curl around his finger and tug a little, bringing me closer to him—making my bare legs press against his, sending tingling sensations up my spine and heating my cheeks.

“Remember Mom told us not to kiss on the lips when we were younger? You said we were allowed to because we were siblings, but it got us into trouble. This will, undoubtedly, get us into even more trouble.”

He kissed me while sitting at the piano, a soft peck, and it was something we always did, especially at nighttime, before we went to sleep. I always thought it was normal, until one day when we were playing a board game with Mom and Dad, and I pressed my mouth to his while cheering that we won, and our parents lost their shit.

Still, Malachi doesn’t give me any sort of reply; he just plays with my hair, bringing it to his nose to inhale the strawberry scent like he always does. He has a fascination with my hair—he always needs to touch it, smell it, play with it.

I know those little interactions are wrong—but it doesn’t stop me enjoying them.

He pulls a little harder on my hair, making me lower my body to his, both of us breathing the same air as my nerves kick in. I lick my lips to make sure they aren’t dry. “Malachi,” I whisper, my body starting to shake. “Are you sure?”

He lifts his hand to the front of his mouth, clamping his fingers together. Sign language for “shut up.”

Glancing at my door again, making sure the shadow of our mother isn’t lurking and watching us, I shift my hips closer to him, lowering my face and trying not to overthink this.

Malachi’s finger stops twirling my hair, and he’s holding his breath, the moment dragging in, my mind screaming at me to stop and go at the same time.

I lower more, our noses bumping, then tilt my head slightly and press my mouth to his.

The second our lips touch, the world stops turning, my heart stops beating, and the thoughts telling me I’m twisted, twisted, twisted skid to a halt.

I softly claim his mouth, showing him how to give chaste kisses that aren’t like the ones we used to do when we were kids. He copies me. When I kiss his bottom lip, he kisses my top lip gently. I suck on the plump flesh of his bottom lip, tasting the faint hint of his chewing gum and cigarettes, scraping my teeth on it as I pull back to look at him. His pupils have taken over any trace of blue.

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