So. Long(149)

Unfortunately, applying lotion only brings to mind hands on my body. All this week, I’ve gone to class, volunteered at the women’s shelter, and I even went out with my friends—being extra careful about who got my drinks. But it hasn’t mattered what I’ve done or how much I’ve packed into a day; when I crawl into bed at night all I do is think about Danny.

His hands under my dress. Fingers grazing a place that had never been touched. How much I wanted—still want—his fingers there. How wet my panties were after he left that day. How damp they get every time thoughts of his hands and his chest and—ugh. It all keeps running through my head.

I pour more lotion and run my hands down my legs as my mind wanders to Danny. Moving up, my fingers glide over my clit. A little bit of pressure there feels—good.

I close my eyes and imagine it’s Danny touching me. His hand on this soft place between my thighs.

My breath catches as I take it further than I have before, just a little dip between my pussy lips. What would it be like if Danny’s big fingers were to sink into my folds?





I brush my teeth and head downstairs.

It’s been a week since I saved Mo from that train wreck of a date. A week since I had my arms around her all night.

I’m not sure who’s avoiding whom. It might be her avoiding me. Then again, maybe it’s me. I mean, I should avoid her. Like fucking Ebola. Mo’s nothing but trouble wrapped up in a tempting, luscious bundle of curves and attitude.

The television’s on in the living room. Must’ve been set to record and something was left on. Dad stands behind the decadent pulpit, lights glittering around him. Even from Mexico, he manages to do his weekly sermon, live and televised. I stalk to the coffee table and snatch up the remote control. I have to get him out of my face—out of my fucking head.

Dad will have my ass in a sling if he finds out Mo slept in my bed. Shit, if he even thinks we’ve hooked up, he’ll fuck us all over. All the pent-up fury from the last few years flows through my body. I hurl the remote across the living room. It smacks the television with a loud crash, leaving a great purple streak down his face where the impact cracked the screen from the bottom edge up to the top corner. His image flickers and fades to black.

The man is a control freak, ego-maniac. So damned worried his reputation could be tarnished if his son and his ward get it on. He’s held that over my head since that first summer Mo lived here.

Before Mo moved down to the guest house, she had the room between me and Rachel. We’d gone to a movie. I almost kissed her in the car, but we were interrupted.

Later that night I caught her in the hall outside of our rooms. “Hey.”

She looked up with those big blue eyes. “Hi.”

“So, about earlier…” I stepped to her, taking her hand.

She nodded and licked her lips, igniting a spark in my groin.

I backed her to the wall. “I said I want to kiss you; I meant it.”

Her eyes got big as I moved in, but they fluttered closed. Her hands came to rest on my chest and her sweet scent invaded my senses. Her smooth skin teased my fingers as I pushed them into the hair at her nape.

I leaned closer, ready to taste her for the first time.

“Daniel Wayne Jennings.” Dad’s voice was fierce, the tone he only used for the worst offenses.

Great.

I pulled away. Mo slipped out of my hands. Her door closed as Dad stomped toward me.

He grabbed my arm and shoved me into my room, slamming the door behind him.

I twisted out of his grip. “What are you doing?”

“I can’t believe this.”

My heart raced. “It was just a kiss—not even that yet.”

“What are you thinking? She’s your sister.” His lips pulled tight over his teeth in a hard line.

“She’s not my sister. Are you freaking crazy?”

He took two strides, his finger pointed at my face. “She may as well be. She lives in this house, like my child. You stay away from her, Daniel. I mean it. Don’t let this go any further.”

“That doesn’t make any sense. What’s wrong with me and Mo dating?”

His voice lowered to a whisper. “It’s unseemly, both of you living under the same roof. No. It’s not happening.”

I crossed my arms. “Screw that. It’s not fair.”

One of his eyebrows shot up. “Fair? I’ll give you fair. You will cease this pursuit of Mona Lisa immediately or I’ll donate your trust fund to the ministry where it will do some good.”

My entire body tensed. “You can’t do that. That’s my money from Mom’s parents.”

He propped his hands at his waist. “I can, and I will. They made me and your mother trustees. Either one of us can make decisions on how it’s doled out to you. We’ll do whatever we want.”