"Mine..." he breathed. "You're meant to belong to me." Standing in the darkness of her bedroom, it became almost impossible to hold himself in check. For years he'd been obsessed with her, her innocence was intoxicating, her subtle beauty enough to bring him to his knees. In an attempt to hide his true feelings from her, he kept his distance, only allowing minimal interactions between them. He knew it bothered her, her expressive face gave away every thought in her head without her knowledge.
Still, it was for the best that he didn’t engage, any extra time spent with her was a chance that he’d give away his true feelings. Gazing down at her sleeping form, he allowed his hand travel to her hair, the silky tresses sliding through his fingers. She let out a low moan in her sleep and he snatched his hand back, freezing as she slowly rolled onto her back. The thin strap of the white chemise she slept in had slipped off her right shoulder, nearly exposing the swell of her breasts to him. He longed to lower his head, slide her top down to her waist and tug her nipple between his teeth. Biting and teasing her tender flesh until it was taut and her body arched into him as she begged for more. His hands would travel down the length of her body and push away the barriers between them, desperate to feel her bare skin under his. He’d find her warm and welcoming, waiting for the pleasure between her thighs only he could give her.
Breathing heavy, he felt himself grow hard at his thoughts. While he knew she’d be sickened if she knew the truth about him, it didn’t stop him from denying himself these small moments with her. Obsession was a form of love; the most intense, almost savage in its nature. While he knew she’d never truly be his, he’d be damned if some other pea-brained loser from school got their claws into the innocence that was his alone to claim. He’d made it his business to ensure no one dared to approach her, he and Oliver had struck a bargain. Between the two of them they were able to thwart any foolish attempts anyone might have made when it came to dating their little sister.
Sister. The thought made his blood boil. How did he end up having the fucking unfortunate luck at becoming her step-brother? He irrationally blamed his father for falling for her mother and ruining any chance he’d ever have at a normal relationship with Lola. While he knew his logic made no sense, it did nothing to ebb his fury. Had they met at school like they would have living in the same town, he wouldn’t be in the predicament he was. Reduced to being a fucking peeping Tom on his own sibling. Following her in the shadows, creeping into her psyche while she was unaware, attempting to plant the seed of the love affair he desperately wanted with her.
Lola must have been restless, as she again shifted in her sleep. The moonlight washed across her face, highlighting her porcelain skin and delicate features. From the times he’d observed her with her friend, Marti, he knew she felt like she wasn’t anything special in the looks department. Her thoughts only showcased her true, pure spirit. She was completely unaware of how beautiful she really was and how much sexuality beat beneath the surface of her skin. All she needed was someone to help her realize what a rarity she was. It was his greatest desire to be the one to bring her inhibitions to life.
Moving away from her side, he settled in his usual spot on the floor across from the bed and picked up his sketchbook. Mixed between the pages were polaroid shots of Lola at different stages, fussing in the garden with her mother, walking to and from school, riding her mountain bike. Every few pages there was a sketch of her he’d made just as she was now; at her most vulnerable. He was by no means a Picasso, but he did have some talent with charcoal. He enjoyed capturing her at different angles, focusing on the soft lines of her most feminine attributes. Art was his other secret love. Unfortunately, even in modern times, the Captain of the football team couldn’t also be an artsy type without drawing in unwanted ridicule. It infuriated him at times, but he played the part he’d created for himself so well, that exposing his diverse sides wasn’t something he was prepared to do.
Lola would understand, of course, but the opportunity to share his love for finer things would never come. Instead, he hid behind the facade of the typical All-American high school jock, flirting with girls he had no interest in all while he bided his time until he could bring his dark fantasies about his step-sister to life.
Studying her, he flipped to a clean sheet in his book and began to sketch. Drawing her brought him a sort of peace, made him feel connected to her on a more personal level. The chance to transform her into what he desired her to be — it was powerful. While he recognized she might never fully return his feelings, now, in these stolen moments, she would always belong to him.
Rising, he crossed to her once more and smoothed her matted hair back from her forehead. Leaning down, he placed a feather-light kiss on her forehead, yearning to do more.
“Sleep well, dear sister. I’ll see you soon.”
Chapter Three
“Honestly, Lo, I don’t know how you get anything accomplished living in this house with those two hotties under the same roof,” Marti Hansen, her best friend remarked as
