“There we go.” He still hasn’t moved. He stands there studying me, looking at me with equal parts contempt and pity, as if he feels sorry for me. “Much better.”
“But you knew what you were doing when you convinced me to—”
“God. Waverly. Give it a fucking rest. You masturbated. You can say it.”
My cheeks flame deep red. If anyone wakes up and hears our conversation, I’ll die. “Keep it down.”
He leans closer to me. “You act like I fucking took your virginity. Had I known you were this uptight, I’d have left you the fuck alone. You’re a goddamned piece of work, you know that?”
“I know.”
“Excuse me?” He rakes his hand across his jaw, cocking his head.
“I’m not perfect. But neither are you. And ever since you set foot in our home, I’ve been nothing but confused.”
My words bring silence upon us for a moment.
“Confused? About what?” His voice cuts through the tension that separates us.
“I-I can’t say it.” Not because I don’t want to. I don’t know how to put it into words. He makes me feel the kinds of things I didn’t know I was capable of feeling. My entire life, I’ve kept my emotions in check. I’ve placed my opinions and beliefs in a tiny box in the corner of my mind and locked the lid. Jensen emptied out the contents of that box with a few dirty words and a half-smile.
“You can say it.”
I swallow the enormous lump in my throat. If I were a teenage boy, perhaps I’d use the word “horny,” but that’s not ever been a word in my spoken vocabulary.
How on earth do I tell my stepbrother that he turns me on?
“You’re afraid to say it.” His eyes glint in the dark.
I don’t argue with him because he’s right. I love the way I feel when I’m turned on. I love the furnace between my thighs and the tingles of anticipation.
The secrecy.
The control.
I love being in control of my own body. The guilt, the naughty feelings, the naughty intentions—they all swirl together to make a cocktail of mischievous delight. I’ve never felt anything like it in all my life, and I’ve never felt more alive than when my mind is flooded with penetrating thoughts that command my body with an intensity so severe I can’t think straight.
Debauchery is exhilarating.
I doubt Jensen would call it debauchery. He would say it’s normal. He’d say it’s human nature. Maybe it is where he’s from, but not here. Not under Mark Miller’s roof. It’s pure, unadulterated evil unless you’re wearing a wedding band and lying next to a man who’s been eternally sealed to you in a temple ceremony.
Never mind that we’re family.
“Let me ask you something.” Jensen rubs his temples. He’s growing frustrated with me. “Are you happy?”
“I’m not sure what that has to do with any of this.”
“Stop being so goddamn obstinate and answer me.”
My breath subsides, catching in my throat. It’s not like his question isn’t a million kinds of complicated. My left shoulder lifts. I rake my chin against it while I stare out the break in the curtains toward the streetlamp below. “All I want is to go to college. That would make me happy.”
“So go.”
I shake my head. “I’ve always been a good girl, Jensen. I do what my parents tell me to do. I get good grades. I’ve got a good moral compass.” I pick at a loose thread poking out from his bedspread. “I think my father suspects something.”
Jensen wrinkles his nose. “I doubt that.”
“I talked to him after dinner.” My shoulders fall. “He still doesn’t trust me to go away to school. Says I still need to prove myself.”
“You can do whatever the fuck you want. You’re an adult.”
“It’s not like that. Not in this family.”
“Have you not learned anything from me yet? You’re your own person. Touch yourself. Think dirty thoughts. Go away to college. The world is your oyster. Your father doesn’t want you to know that. He’s afraid of losing control over you, so he makes sure you’re terrified to think for yourself.” Jensen runs his fingers through his hair, tugging on the ends. I’ve never seen him so worked up. “I should know. Believe me when I tell you I speak from experience, and believe me when I tell you I’m only trying to help.”
I’m standing in the Garden of Eden and Jensen Mackey is the serpent. I’ve tasted the flesh of forbidden fruit, I’ve been gifted the knowledge, and now I want more.
“Jensen?” The way his name tastes in my mouth, naughty and delicious, gives me goose bumps, but maybe it’s because I know what I’m about to ask. My heart beats wildly. I’m doing this.
“Yeah?”
“Will you kiss me right now?” I know what kissing leads to. I know it might be hard to stop once we start. But I’m okay with it. It’s my choice. I want this. It’s just something I have to do.
He freezes. I freeze. I can’t believe I just asked him to kiss me. But I want his mouth on mine more than I’ve ever wanted anything in my life. Imagining the heat of his body mixing with mine, the weight of his penetrating gaze the moment before he claims me, the way his hardness would press against my core…
It’s all too much.
I’m heating up, waiting for his answer, my body braced stiff.
“Go to bed, Waverly.”
My jaw drops. He steps closer, reaching for me in the dark. Pulling my arm, he guides me into a standing position and nods toward the door. I could slap him. His untimely rejection doesn’t sting, it burns.
“You’re an asshole.” It’s the first time I’ve ever sworn out loud, and my words are well-warranted.
“I’m protecting you.”
“From what?!”
“From yourself.”
I’m insulted. I’m not sure what to even say. “You have a lot of nerve, Jensen.”
“As do you.” He smirks in the dark. “You’re all over the fucking place. You’re hot, you’re cold, you’re mean, you’re nice. You’re throwing yourself at me now, but what’s going to happen tomorrow? When you wake up in the morning and feel guilty? Forgive me if I’m opting to get off the fucking Waverly Miller rollercoaster.”
I’m not delusional enough to believe his observations are incorrect. He’s dead on, so far.
“So look,” he breathes. “I’m doing you a favor. It’s not that I don’t want to kiss you.” He reaches for my face, cupping my cheek and running his thumb across my bottom lip. My breathing suspends until his hand falls. “I could kiss this mouth all fucking night. But I don’t think I could stop there. Matter of fact, I know I couldn’t. And I don’t want you to wake up tomorrow and regret your decision.”
“I won’t regret it.”
“That’s what you’re saying now.”
“I get it. I get that I’m kind of all over the place,” I sigh, placing my palm across my chest. “It ends now.”
The corner of his full mouth curls up. “Don’t beg, Waverly. It’s not a good look for you.”
I tug at the collar of my shirt, my ears burning hot as I blink away misty eyes.
Rejection was never one of the worst-case scenarios I’d dreamed up when thinking of Jensen late at night. My eyes burn and then water. Thick, salty tears fall down my cheeks, and I pray he can’t see them through the darkness.
I push past him, our shoulders brushing. He could’ve kissed me all night long, and I wouldn’t have regretted a single thing in the morning. I know that to be true.
I can’t win with him.
“Go to hell, Jensen.”
CHAPTER 13
JENSEN
I can’t sleep.
I know I did the right thing.
But I can’t sleep.
The glaring red numbers on my alarm tell me if I go to sleep now, I’ll get a measly four hours, but my body is nothing but live wire. I’m not going to sleep anytime soon.
I pad across the room and grab my vodka bottle from my dresser drawer, uncapping it and swallowing two mouthfuls before carefully sliding it under a mess of boxers. I make a mental note to find a better spot for that in the morning. Who knows who’ll be on laundry duty tomorrow, and Mark Miller would flip his shit if he knew his vagabond-spiritual-stepson was sneaking contraband around his freakish family.