“I do care,” he promises, his tone turning urgent, honesty blazing in his eyes. Even in the dim light, I can see Grayson cares for me. “I’m here because your father and I have a meeting early tomorrow.” He lifts a hand and rakes it through his dark brown hair, causing another wave of desire to flush through me at an alarming rate. My heart leaps into my throat when he pins me with those mocha eyes.
“I’m nineteen, legal, and an adult. You have no right to question me.” The words fall from my lips before I have time to think. His eyes heat, and even in the dark, I’m hooked, caught in a web of self-destruction, because the only thing I can think of is leaping into his arms and wrapping my legs around his taut waist.
“You may be legal, Mila, but I’ll be damned if I stand by watching you go out partying and fucking every boy in the neighborhood. Your father would have a fucking stroke if he knew.” The word fuck in his smooth, silky, whispered baritone is enough to have my panties drenched with arousal.
The thought of Grayson knowing I’m no longer the sweet, innocent girl he’s watched grow up makes me wish I could’ve hidden it away. I’m not sure why, but the confusing desire courses through me, wanting him to see me as a woman, but also wanting him to remember me as the girl who needed him through the darkest time in her life.
I know my feelings aren’t normal. They can’t be, but I can’t stop them. Each time I see him, when he saunters into the house, I’m a teenager with a crush.
When my stepdad married my mother, I’d just turned thirteen, and when I first met his brother, I gawked. It’s wrong, so fucking wrong, but god, I can’t help but ache whenever I’m near him. Now, at nineteen, he’s the only man I picture when I slide my hand between my legs.
My uncle elicits feelings from me that I can’t explain. The burst of wings that tickle my belly when Grayson walks into the room and the ache in my core has me quivering when I think of his hands on me.
I can’t even tell any of my friends about it because I’m afraid of the judgment, and I can’t even imagine what Aunt Shanika will say.
“Fine, I won’t go around fucking every boy I see, if you give me some privacy.” I stalk past him, thinking it’s done, when suddenly he grips my arm, tugging me against his rock-hard body. For a thirty-two-year-old man, he’s built better than any of my college friends. And the ink that adorns his arms only adds to his allure.
“Do not use that tone with me, sweetheart,” he bites out close to my ear, sending electric sparks trailing through every inch of my body.
“Why? Are you going to put me over your knee and spank me, Uncle Grayson?” I quip playfully, but the way his eyes glower tells me he’s considering it. Squeezing my thighs together, I bite my lip to keep from moaning as the images play out in my mind. Fuck, I’d love for him to do that.
“Don’t tempt me, sweetheart. I’m not averse to doing just that.”
Suddenly, he releases me and stalks down the hallway toward the guest bedroom. When the door clicks in the darkness, I release the breath I’d been holding. But the scent of his masculine cologne hangs heavily in the air.
I toe off my heels and pad down the opposite hallway and up the stairs which lead to my bedroom, still reeling from the interaction with him. I’m in so much trouble as each time I’m near him, my feelings only seem to taunt me further. Pushing the door to my bedroom open, I step inside and shut it behind me.
Thoughts of what Grayson Connor does to me is wrong on so many levels, but I push him to do it. I tease him mercilessly. Shoving off my pink miniskirt, I glance in the mirror. I’ve always been curvy, with my hips wider than my waist. My breasts are bigger than any of my friends’, and I always wondered if Grayson didn’t prefer those petite girls because they were the opposite of me.
My long, black hair hangs in waves down my back. My olive skin gives me a year-round tan, and boys hit on me all the time. Too bad the only man I want is forbidden.
When my mother passed away three years ago, I admit, I went off the deep end. The only man who understands me is my uncle. He was the one who was there to listen to me cry, to hear me confess how much it hurt that she’s no longer around. I’ve had him to confide in for so long, and he’s been amazing, giving me advice and helping me through the worst.
My stepfather, on the other hand, is the complete opposite, because he would lock me away in a tower if he could. As long as I have my phone, I’ll still be able to talk to Grayson. I know my uncle’s younger than most, and perhaps that’s why he gets me, but I know I wouldn’t have been able to get through the three years after losing my mother if it weren’t for him.
Somehow, over the time we’d grown closer, I’d lost my heart to him. I’ve fallen, and there’s no way back up. I’m head over fucking heels. So, whenever he tells me about yet another notch on his bedpost, I go off the deep end, finding some willing college boy who’ll allow me to be his arm candy, and I do it only to make Grayson jealous.
I know dreams of him will haunt me tonight, and I’ll wake up with my hand between my thighs until I find relief. Only, the desire never abates. It just grows stronger. Images of being under one of the most important men in my life have me once again pulsing with need.
Is it wrong to want your uncle to fuck you?
Because I want Grayson Connor to do just that.
But is it wrong to want to make love to him too?
Yes, it is.
All I have to live with are the what ifs.
Chapter 2
Grayson
Last night, when I caught Mila sneaking in after curfew, I wanted to tell her father, but I know my brother, and he’ll only worry. So, I decided I won’t say anything to Gabe just yet. I’m concerned she’s still acting like a rogue teenager.
After three years of being her shoulder to cry on, her advisor, and the person who’s always been there for her in the roughest of times, I feel as if I have a responsibility to keep her secrets, but I’m grown up enough to know if she does do something stupid, I’ll be there to catch her.
It’s just hit six in the morning, the sun is just peeking through the windows, and I’ve been in my brother’s gym for almost an hour. Working out has always helped clear my mind when it comes to Mila, but I can’t stop the thoughts of her in that tiny mini skirt she wore last night. She had me rock fucking hard, and I rushed to my room to jerk off, thinking about how her ass felt pressed against my dick.
Lifting the weight, I can’t help watching the sweat drip from my chest. Before I have time to think any more about last night, the door swings open, and Mila’s hourglass figure strolls over the threshold. She’s dressed in Lycra leggings and a sports bra. Her long hair is tied into a messy bun, and she looks like sin.
“Morning, Grayson,” she coos, and I know she’s trying to taunt me. She loves it, yet she doesn’t realize I know exactly what she’s doing.
“Mila,” I grunt, and with great difficulty, I drag my gaze from her and concentrate on what I’m doing. The mirror allows me to drink in her perfect form as she straddles the spinning machine while my cock thickens imagining her riding me.
Get a fucking grip.