Total pages in book: 38
Estimated words: 35735 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 179(@200wpm)___ 143(@250wpm)___ 119(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 35735 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 179(@200wpm)___ 143(@250wpm)___ 119(@300wpm)
I shake my head. The endless working hours I’ve been keeping must be taking their toll. Refusing to hesitate another second, I step into the clearing and…
There she is.
My knees have never weakened a moment in my life, but I truly come close to kneeling involuntarily now. Dropping down to my knees, right there in the tall, swaying grass. Aren’t men supposed to kneel in the presence of an angel, anyway?
I have to be dreaming.
The beauty in front of me is simply not real.
A barefoot girl in a white nightgown sits on a tire swing, flying back and forth over the grass, her long blonde hair rippling behind her in the wind. She’s surrounded by a parade of fireflies. They seem drawn to her, dancing around her in praise. The moon kisses her face, illuminating the most beautiful eyes I’ve ever seen—and I’m not even close enough to determine their color. Every part of her is beautiful. And that innocent, tinkling laugh. It’s sweeping the glade and piercing me right in the throat.
This girl…is my stepsister?
Cate.
I must say her name out loud, because her head turns in my direction, her big eyes turning to saucers. She clings tighter to the rope attached to the tire swing, her thighs wrapping around it—and that slight movement makes my cock hard as fuck. Before I can stop it, I’m imagining those lithe thighs around my waist, her nightgown bunched in my hands.
Not good. This is not good at all.
I don’t even recall asking Rebecca her daughter’s age.
Not that the specific number matters. Cate is related to me by marriage.
My body doesn’t seem to care, though, and I’m walking toward her before I can stop myself. I have no choice but to get closer and memorize every single thing about her. Devour information about her. Eat it whole.
“Who’re you, mister?” Cate gasps in a southern accent thick as oil, holding tighter to the swing. “You come here in that fancy suit to be takin’ my house? For the bank?”
“No.” When I’m within ten yards, I notice her blonde hair is tangled. There is dirt caked to her feet, her calves. But it’s not enough to detract from the smooth, tan skin beneath. Not enough to make her any less beautiful. God, this sweet girl has been out here all alone? Vulnerable to men and animals and inclement weather? How did she survive? How dare she be neglected like this. Never again. “I’m Tristan,” I rasp. “Your stepbrother.”
Her nose wrinkles. “Don’t got a stepbrother.”
Tutoring. She’s going to need a lot of it. I’ll arrange it as soon as we’re back in Hartford.
Even as my solution-driven mind makes those necessary plans, however, something inside me rebels over the idea of changing a single thing about her. She’s an uncut diamond. Wild and unspoiled. And yet, if she’s going to be in the ruthless, unforgiving political spotlight, she’ll need to be taught how to speak correctly. She’ll need to be domesticated.
Is that what you really want?
“My father married your mother. Rebecca. We’ve come to bring you home.”
“We?” Cate breathes, looking beyond my shoulder. “My mama is here?”
Something sharp digs into my throat. “Yes.” I step forward. “Let me help you down from there. I’ll bring you to see her.”
Fuck me. Up close, she’s a…filthy, unkempt little thing. Yes. But her beauty, inner and outer, shines through so brightly, it kicks up an ache in my limbs, my chest. Her eyes are wide and blue, fathomless. Dangerous. She’s already extremely dangerous to my sanity. The rope of the swing is tucked in between her young thighs, pressing tightly to her pussy—and I cannot think about my stepsister’s pussy. Or how she’s wearing no panties. Or bra. The material of the nightgown is thin enough to make that very plain.
She’s hesitant to let me help her down off the swing.
Hell, she should be.
My dick is as stiff as iron, pulsing in my briefs. Being near her is driving me wild. Making me hotter than I’ve ever been in my life. What will I do once my hands are on her?
Hesitantly, lip caught between her teeth, she unwraps her fingers from around the rope, placing her hands on my shoulders. “Where are y’all going to bring me?”
“Connecticut,” I manage, reaching up to capture her slim waist. “Hartford.”
“Oh.”
I lift her off the swing, but I don’t set her down.
I know I should, but when her naked thighs drag down on either side of my hips, I hold her there, one of my forearms hooking beneath her ass almost desperately. Needing her to stay right there. I’m not a man who embraces. I do firm handshakes. But my arms band around her automatically, slowly, slowly, flattening her against my chest and cautiously, Cate wraps around me, the way she was wrapped around the swing, her bare feet dangling near my knees.