Lindsay
My rotten mind had thought he was going to kiss me. It wasn't until I heard his light chuckle that I opened my eyes quickly to see his amused face. He had reached for my seatbelt and helped me unbuckle.
My cheeks heated up. What? Why did he do that, and more importantly, why did I think he was going to kiss me?
He laughed at the expression on my face, and then we walked into the house.
"Smells good," he murmured, setting his bag down by the stairs.
"Mom went all out," I said, shrugging off my jacket. "She always does when you're around."
A knowing smile tugged at his mouth, and I quickly moved past him before it did something dangerous to my chest.
The dining table was already set, with candles, nice plates, and the cutlery we only used during the holidays. Mom beamed as soon as we walked in, rushing over to hug him, her voice bubbling with warmth.
"My boy! Look at you," she fussed, hands on his face. "You've grown into such a man." She glanced at me. "Doesn't he look bigger?"
"Uh-huh." I stared at her wide-eyed.
He chuckled in amusement and pulled her in for a hug, smiling easily, slipping into the role of the golden son. I wondered how she would react if she knew I wanted to kiss him only moments ago.
I sat down quietly, watching as he charmed everyone—the way he laughed at Mom's stories, asked about her work, leaned back in his chair with that relaxed confidence that filled the room.
Dad wasn't here, as usual, caught up in some late-night business call, so it was just the three of us.
And me, sitting across the table, pretending the roasted chicken was more interesting than whatever he was saying. Which didn't help in the slightest, because I was still thinking of him and our almost kiss.
"Pass the bread?" he asked suddenly, eyes on me.
I froze for half a second before sliding the basket across the table. His fingers brushed mine as he took it.
I didn't know if it was an accident, but when I stole a glance at him, something in his smiling eyes told me it wasn't.
Heat prickled at the back of my neck. I kept my eyes down, forcing myself to chew slowly, act normal.
Mom didn't notice. She was too busy chattering, asking him about his trip, about the cities he'd been in, the things he'd seen.
He told stories, half-serious, half-teasing, and every time his gaze flicked toward me, I knew he was watching for my reaction.
By the time dinner ended, my nerves were frayed. I practically jumped at the chance to clear the plates.
"I'll do the dishes," I offered quickly, stacking them before Mom could protest.
"Sweetheart, you don't have to—"
"It's fine," I cut in, needing the escape, even though I was sure I couldn't run away from my thoughts.
From the corner of my eye, I saw his smirk before he leaned back in his chair. "I'll help," he said easily.
Mom lit up. "That's sweet. You two can catch up."
My stomach twisted. The last thing I needed was to be trapped alone with him in the kitchen, but I couldn't say no without raising suspicion. So I carried the plates in.
He followed behind. "You always did volunteer for dish duty," he said, dropping a few more plates onto the counter.
"Because someone has to," I muttered, turning on the faucet.
He leaned against the counter, too close, arms folded, watching as I scrubbed a plate. His presence filled the small space, heavy and charged.
"You're quiet," he said after a moment. "Did I do something?"
I shook my head quickly. "No. Just tired."
"Mm." He didn't sound convinced. "Is it about earlier, in the car?"
"No!" I answered too strongly. I peered behind me to see if Mom had heard me. "No, it isn't. And can you pretend it never happened?"
He didn't answer. Instead, he reached past me for a towel, his arm brushing mine, lingering longer than necessary. "I'll dry."
It was such a simple thing, standing there side by side, but every time his hand brushed against mine and every time he glanced at me, it was like air was knocked out of my lungs.
My fingers slipped on the soapy plate, and he caught it before it hit the sink, his hand closing over mine.
For a moment, neither of us moved. The warm press of his skin against mine sent sparks racing up my arm.
"You've gotten clumsy," he teased softly, though his voice was lower now, huskier.
I pulled my hand back too quickly, nearly splashing water. "I'm fine," I said sharply, avoiding his gaze.
But when I glanced up, his eyes were already on me. There was no mistaking the desire in his piercing gaze. He started walking up to me. My heart skipped a beat when he got closer.
"What are you doing?" I blurted out.
"What do you think?" he replied.
I glanced at the doorway, imagining Mom appearing at the entrance.
"Is that what you're really bothered about?" he asked.
My cheeks reddened. "We shouldn't… whatever this is… we shouldn't…"
He ignored me, coming even closer, until I was sandwiched between the cupboard and his hard, muscular body.
I gasped when I felt his manhood pressing against my ass. My heart hammered in my chest.
"Liam…" I called out to him shakily.
He leaned even closer, pressing soft kisses along my nape, lingering at my earlobe.
A moan escaped my lips before I could stop it. I couldn't urge him on—Mom could be here any minute. "Liam, I don't think we should be doing this…"
"Your body disagrees…" He wrapped his hand around my neck, his fingers lightly pressing down. "I like your little moan, though I'd like to hear you cry out for me…"
My pussy clenched in response, a pool of wetness settling between my legs. If he continued holding me in this position and talking naughtily in my ear, I'd be dropping by the end.
"Liam, we can't…" I managed to protest. "You're my br—"
He didn't let me finish the words when he grabbed my breasts suddenly. "You didn't think of that when you tried to kiss me earlier…"
There was a possessiveness in the way he squeezed my boobs, like he was annoyed that I even thought of bringing up the idea that we were siblings.
I sucked in a deep breath. I tried to move, but it only made me push against the hard bulge in his pants. "I wasn't thinking clearly…"
"If you keep moving the way you are now, I don't think I'll be able to think clearly either."
I stilled.
And then he stepped back. The moment I turned around, he pulled me toward him and pressed his lips against mine. Every single rational thought flew out the window the moment he kissed me.
I didn't care for the dishes still in the sink. I didn't care that we were in the kitchen and Mom could walk in any moment. I didn't care for the fact that we had lived for five years as siblings.
I wrapped my hands around his neck. He lifted me off my feet so I was straddling him, powerful arms gripping my thigh and holding it in place. My dress was bunched up, revealing my inner thigh.
I let out a suppressed moan of pleasure, unable to withstand the intense sensation as the crotch of my panties, soaked wet, rubbed against his hard erection.
I wrapped my hands tighter around his neck, deepening the kiss, opening myself to him. His tongue probed the entrance of my mouth.
He suckled my lips before biting down lightly, his hands gripping my ass cheeks as he set me on the counter.
He let out a deep groan as he went to grab my breasts. I arched my back, leaning into his touch, basking in the onslaught of his lips and hands…
"Liam!"
We broke apart quickly, pulling away from each other moments before Mom walked in.
I turned my back to her to hide the flushed look on my face.
"I was checking in to see if you needed anything. Lind and I cleaned up your old bedroom for you. It's just how you left it, with a few tweaks here and there, but I'm sure you'll like it!"
He smiled. "Thanks, Mom, I'm sure I will." He sounded so calm and collected compared to me, who was out of breath.
It was only until they left the kitchen that I let out a big exhale. What have you done, Lindsay?