I’M DEFINITELY IN WAY OVER my head here.
I look over at Dani, who is now peacefully—thank God—sleeping again, and drop my head back on the pillows stacked up behind my back. What the hell was I thinking rushing over here? As soon as Nate called, laughing his ass off over how he woke his sister up, and let me know just how sick she was, I couldn’t seem to stop myself from getting here as quickly as possible. Mom didn’t even bat an eye when I asked her how to make her soup—the same soup she’s made for each of my siblings and me every time we were sick. She did ask why I needed it and left it alone when all I said was, “Dani.” I didn’t miss the look in her eye though.
Curious but hopeful.
It really should have been a concern. How could she possibly be okay with me rushing over to Dani? Someone who is almost five years younger and has never made it a secret, even though she thinks she has, about how she feels about me.
Sure, there was that one time. I think the twins, Lyn and Lila, had just turned sixteen—Dani was around fifteen—when she whispered her feelings towards me with a intensity that no teenager just coming into herself should ever understand.
I’ll never forget it. Never. Of course that was a defining moment for our relationship—not that she knows that.
“I’m going to miss you, Cohen. I know you don’t look at me like I look at you, but one day, you’re going to come back and I’ll still be waiting for you. Waiting for you to see me like I see you. Mark my words, Cohen Cage. One of these days, you’re going to be mine. And until you’re ready . . . I’ll be here. I’ll be waiting.”
Her husky whisper replays in my mind like it just happened moments ago. I haven’t forgotten a single word. Not a single one. Over the years, they would come back to me at the worst-possible times. When I would be out on a date—boom, there they were. Instantly, that chick would morph into a vision of Dani so clear that I struggled not to reach out and run my fingertips down her cheek. When I was in the middle of one of the biggest games in my football career, there they were—a hushed whisper that carried over the roaring crowds. And it would never fail—I would look up from a huddle and there she would be standing with my family, screaming louder than any other person in the stadium.
And most recently, when I was in the middle of a warzone, gunfire flying all around us, bombs exploding, and the dust burning our eyes and lungs. Right in the middle of that Hell-on-earth chaos, I would hear her words trail through my thoughts right when I needed an extra push of strength or, God forbid, hope.
I think that was the moment that I realized the enormity of it and that confession whispered all those years ago. Right or wrong, whatever it is between us would always be bigger than I understand. It’s something that was so unexpected—that feeling, craving, desire, to make her mine. It’s something I’ve almost felt guilty about over the years. Not only because of how close our families are, but because, until the last few years, it’s something that was very inappropriate to feel towards someone that young.
When she woke up earlier—or at least I think she was awake—and started rubbing her body against mine, I thought I was going to come in my pants. That hasn’t happened to me since I was a teenager just learning how to control my random pop-up erections.
I have no doubt that it was the pain meds in her cough syrup making her act like that. She’s always gotten weird on narcotic pain meds. But when her warm body crushed against my side, I had a hard time telling myself that she wasn’t in her right mind. Trying to convince myself not to react was impossibly hard. Then her small but firm tits pressed against my side and it was almost game over.
Her tits had been straining the confines of her small, white tank top since I’d walked in the door. Her nipples were pebbled to firm tips just begging for me to wrap my lips around them. Did she have small nipples that matched her size or would they be large? Are they light pink in color or more tan? Would she taste as good as the promise of her has hinted at when I finally pull them deep into my mouth and tease her with my tongue and teeth?
Yeah. Ever since that moment, I’ve been as hard as steel and ready to pound into her small body.
Yup. I’m in way over my head here—so far over that I’m shocked I haven’t drowned yet.
“Fuck me,” I groan, pressing my palm against my cock, willing it to calm the fuck down.
If her brother—or, worse, her father—were to come in here right now, I have no doubt that I would be put in the hospital with the force of their beatdown.
She shifts, and I look away from Game of Thrones, where the little dude—or “imp,” as she and the girls call him—she is always raving about, is playing with his whore.
Jesus, is everyone getting some action?
After making sure she got her meds, I heated up Mom’s soup and called her brother to see if he would be home soon. Of course he said that he was too busy on his date with the Carver twins to come home and take care of his sick sister. One thing about Nate—he loved his sister, but he loved * more.
Axel and Izzy had left for their night for the charity event, the same one my parents and all the other parents from our group would be at. Axel had already planned on being out all night with Izzy, something about a bed and breakfast, so I told him that I would stay here with Dani and make sure she was okay. There is no telling Axel Reid that his adult daughter can take care of herself.
If he had any idea about the thoughts I’ve had about his daughter, there is no fucking way he would have left me alone with her. No. Way.
“Coh,” she moans and moves in her sleep. Her legs shift, and she moans again.
Fuck! How the hell am I supposed to not get messed up over this? I jump off the bed and pace around her room. Looking around, I try to find something to focus on that will help me move past the fact that she is clearly having some heated dream.
Cuddle fuck. What did she call it? A fuggle? I shake my head and wince when my cock swells even further. Fuggle. What in the hell is that supposed to mean, anyway?
Focus, Cohen. Focus on something other than your desire to bury yourself balls-deep in sweet Dani *.
I look around her room for anything to form some sort of distraction. Her dresser is full of pictures. There are some of her and my sisters. Some pictures of Maddi and Dani alone. Some of Maddi, the twins, and Dani together. More pictures of her and Liam Beckett—her best friend other than my sisters. My eyes go past the pictures to the canvas paintings she has hanging up around the pale-blue room, and I know without checking that they’re some of Ember’s, Maddi’s little sister. She has a huge chaise lounge-type sofa thing in the corner by her floor-to-ceiling windows that overlook their backyard and lake. It has a worn throw tossed carelessly over the back, and a book has been thrown on the ottoman.
That chair would be the perfect chair to take her on, I muse. I would put her on her knees, facing the back, her elbows bracing her body against it, and take her hard. Goddamn, I could sink myself so deep into her tiny body.
Okay . . . Quickly moving my eyes past the chair, I look back at her sleeping form. Her tan skin looks flushed, her full lips are parted slightly, and her chest is rising slowly. Just like an angel, my Dani-girl.
An angel sent from Heaven who is without a doubt always going to be my greatest temptation.