He opened the bedroom door, and a slight dip of turbulence had him stumbling against the bed. In seconds, he was horizontal. On his back. Pants zipper lowered.

Whoa…

Half-a-bottle-of-scotch imagination was the bomb. He was hallucinating. His fantasies appearing before him with vivid clarity.

A tumble of bright-red hair fell across delicate features, and unmistakable cornflower-blue eyes peered down at him.

Not even a belly full of liquor could match the warmth the image conjured. Aria. He’d bury his hands in her long hair while he fucked her senseless. Then, once he got the carnal need out of his system, he’d give it to her nice and slow. Treat her like the princess she was.

“You all right, Nate?”

He sat bolt upright. Fuck. No amount of imagination was this impressive.

She came to kneel on the mattress beside him, her seductively tight black dress nothing like his Aria would ever wear.

Her bright eyes, for once, were open wide, lacking the half-closed, daydream look that made him desperate to know what she was thinking.

“Aria?” He blinked. Then blinked again. “What the fuck are you doing on my plane?”

Her ginger brows arched. “Watch your language, Nathan Hendricks.”

He laughed and sagged back onto the bed. No, this couldn’t be real. His stepsister couldn’t have snuck onto his private jet, hidden in the bedroom, and then admonished his language more forcefully than his mother ever had.

Not after what she’d done.

“Your fly is down…” Her fingers moved to her lower lip while her gaze lingered on his crotch.

His erection intensified. Hard cock demanding attention against the flimsy material of his boxer briefs. A scarlet glow rose in her cheeks. One of his favorite things about this bashful little redhead.

He made no move to fix himself. This was his plane. His bed. His goddamn pants and his motherfucking hard-on.

She shouldn’t even be here.

Really, really shouldn’t be here.

His mother warned him years ago. When he’d taken the place of an unsuitable date and had escorted Aria to her senior prom. His stepsister had been a vision his cock couldn’t ignore. And, apparently, his inappropriate interest had been something his mother hadn’t been able to disregard, either.

He’d been old enough to know better. The implications of his feelings had been laid out in black and white.

His mother was happy in her new life.

His stepfather was Sheriff, and scandals stick in small towns like Greenpea. And that issue only became worse once Jeremiah became the mayor.

Then there was Aria, seventeen and too young for a man. Especially when that man was her stepbrother. Her reputation in the conservative town never would have recovered.

“What are you doing here?” he repeated.

“I heard you booking the jet and knew you were planning to leave.”

She raised her focus to his face, and his guts clenched. It was better when she wasn’t looking right at him. Inside him. He might be almost a decade older than she was, but she robbed him of those years, and more, when her gaze collided with his.

“So you stowed away?” He sat up again. The scotch buzzed through his system. He never thought he could be so furious at the stunning sight of her. “I asked what you’re doing here?”

“I…”

The scarlet traveled her neck, down her chest, and flared under her necklace. A mimicking heat curled in his veins. The gold and obsidian jewelry had been his gift for her twenty-first birthday. It looked as magnificent on her as he had imagined it would when he designed the piece.

Red and black. This necklace was literally made for her.

Only, she didn’t know that. He’d said he’d found it in a store.

“Why the hell are you all dressed up like this?”

The sleeveless dress clung to her, giving him an outline of more temptation than he could withstand. He tried to breathe. Those gorgeous tits were full and high and capable of filling his hands just right. His deprived balls ached.

Her chin drew up with her frown. Shit. Had his tone been too insensitive?

He was such a damn bastard.

She leaped off the mattress and stood in the fraction of space between the foot of the bed and the door. “Because I’m going to Seattle, that’s why.”

He blinked. She thought she was going where?

“You are not going to Seattle.” He slid from the bed and planted his feet in front of her. “You’re staying right here, in Greenpea, where you belong.”

“Where I what now?” Her brows did the arch thing, and her fingers made air quotes. “You did not just try to tell me where my ‘place’ is, did you, Nathan Hendricks?”

He rubbed his mouth. Damn scotch. He wished he could hurl—might help him think straight.

She rolled her shoulders and jutted her chin. “Never mind, we need to talk.”

“Then bravo for trapping me on a five-hour flight.” His teeth snapped. That’s what she’d done, the little minx. Trapped him for five hours with her.

But if it was talking she wanted, she might be out of luck. She was too damn close. With the bed an inch behind them. He’d already envisioned five hundred ways to defile her on it.

Hell, he could defile her anywhere.

Against the wall. Or on the tiny patch of carpet below their feet.

“I had to.” Her shoulders sagged. “You can’t leave.”

He retreated a step. Fuck. No, she couldn’t start pleading.

“Please don’t go because of me.” She followed after him. “I made a horrible mistake, and I’m so sorry, but please don’t leave us again.”

Holy shit.

He stared over her head, unable to look at her and not give her whatever she wanted. That was the problem between them. He wasn’t her big brother, but he’d spoiled her rotten like one.

Well, perhaps not exactly like one.

Every gift he’d given her in the last three years had been personal in a way a brother’s gifts should never be. Seemingly innocent presents, even though his intentions were anything but.

Jewelry he’d picture her wearing. Sentimental presents that were almost like a secret between them. Things that told her he got her as no one else did.

And this little tease, it was as if she knew how much he got off on picturing her with his gifts. She’d send him thank you notes with photos. The worst followed after he sent her a set of pale-pink, retro bakeware to congratulate her on starting pastry school. She sent him back a picture of her baking with them. A streak of flour on her cheek. Wearing a frilly, strawberry-print apron.

The torturous image made him picture her baking just for him. In his fucking kitchen. And all she’d be wearing was that cute little apron.

“I can’t stay. Not after what you did.” He forced himself to look at her. He had to protect everyone—his mother, her father, and most of all, Aria. “You must get that.”

She inhaled sharply, and the hope in her expression crumpled. He wanted to fall to his knees and say, “Of course, I forgive you, princess. I’d forgive you anything.”

Except she’d almost ruined all their lives—especially her own.

“Can’t we pretend it never happened?” Her eyes misted, delivering a punch to his lungs. Did she realize she could have anything she wanted from him?

That he was hers to wrap around her finger?

But that was beside the point—she should never have known that. He couldn’t offer her the one thing he most wanted to give her.

“No, we can’t pretend.” He took her by the shoulders and let all his rage rise to the surface. Cruel or not, she needed to understand. “I’m never going to be able to look at you again without remembering what happened.”

“Don’t say that.” She swallowed, and her eyes leaked. “Don’t say that like we’re not going to be close anymore.” She grabbed for him in return, clutching the spot where his shoulder met neck. “I can’t not talk to you.”

Pain skewered his sternum.

He couldn’t stand the thought of not speaking to her, either. Their twice-a-week phone calls while he lived in Seattle were not only the highlight of his life, they were the only times he felt complete.

But he couldn’t risk returning to where they’d once been. Too much had changed. For her sake, he couldn’t.

And she definitely wasn’t safe here.

Not with him.

He had to make her understand.

“Then you should’ve thought of the consequences before you came sneaking into my bed in the middle of the night and pressed your naked little self up against me, like a—” He stopped and released her shoulders. There was no word that wasn’t an angry, nasty, and unfair response. “In your fucking father’s house. Our parents’ house.”

She didn’t reprimand his language this time. Instead, she looked down, her forehead wrinkled, and it was all he could do not to wrap her in his arms and tell her it’d all be fine.

No harm done.

Except the wounds ate him alive. He’d never get over the pain. Never recover from the plaguing sensation of her naked and warm against his back.

It’d taken more will than he possessed to leap out of that bed, scoop her up along with the linen, and deposit her in an unmolested heap back in her own room.

Without saying a single fucking word.

Only love for her and for his family had given him that strength.

Now that restraint was all tapped out.

He’d been less than a breath away from fucking her until she screamed the house down.

Less than a breath away from destroying their family.

Ruining her life.

Maybe she thought she could secretly fool around with her stepbrother, consequence free. But he wasn’t fooling around.

There was nothing casual or inconsequential about how he wanted her.

She swiped her cheeks. “We’d been spending so much time together since you moved home.” She returned her gaze to his. “Such special time. I was confused and misunderstood the situation. I thought you wanted me that way.”

Guilt slammed into him like meat mallets to his temples.

There was no misunderstanding and no confusion.

He had spent all his time with her. Had driven her around in his car because he couldn’t resist the way she laughed and held up her arms when he maneuvered through the streets with the top down. He’d taken his “little sister” on trips to neighboring towns to help him pick furnishings for his new place. Not because he liked her taste, but because, deep down, he wanted his place to be her place.

Wanted her stamp all over it, just like he wanted to stamp his claim all over her.

He’d stared at her too long.

Sat too close.

Hugged too tight.

Wanted too much.

He knew her better than most people ever would. He knew there was a wicked streak to the nice, church-going girl everyone knew, but he never expected she’d be so aggressive.

“It makes no difference what I might want.” He gripped her upper arm. “Your behavior was unacceptable.”

Her chest rose and fell, then her chin notched in the way he’d come to know meant he’d better get ready for a fight.

Except as much as she might be accustomed to pushing him over with her little pinky, she didn’t have the capacity to fight him this time. This was too important.

“Honestly, Nate.” She jerked her arm free and slumped onto the edge of the bed. “So what, I made one bad judgment. Stop being so high and frigging mighty, and get over it.”

“Get over it?”

She hadn’t just told him to get over the way she’d tormented him, had she? No way. And resorting to soft curses. He knew what frigging meant in her language.

Her eyes narrowed. “Yeah, get the heck over it.”

And now “heck”?

He released a blunt laugh. Oh, that was it. He’d show her exactly what there was to get over. Those naïve blinders of hers were about to be removed.

He leaned forward, his stare intent, and snatched her wrist.

Her breath hitched with his tight grip, but she didn’t retreat. She allowed him to bring her hand forward as he tugged his cock from his half-opened pants. Each inch of slow progression killed him. She was supposed to protest. Needed to protest and stop the insanity.

Instead, innocent eyes blinked up at him as he wrapped her fist around his girth. Those delicate fingers dwarfed under his size.

“Get over this?” He trapped her hand with his and flexed his dick against her palm for good measure.

Her mouth fell open.

Silly girl, there was a lot he could do with those spread lips.

“This is what you’ve done to me.” He squeezed their hands tighter. “From now on, this is what’s going to happen whenever I look at you. Whenever I speak to you. Whenever I even think of you.”

She stared at his dick, eyes wide with disbelief.

“This is what you’ve done to us, Aria.” He encroached on her, bringing his cock and balls closer to her face. “You taunted me, and you’re very, very lucky your father was down the hall because I’d have taken you. I’d have taken a literal fuck-load more than you expected.”

Her cheeks went as bright as her hair, and her breathing increased, but she didn’t look up. Kept staring at his cock. Was she even listening to him?

“Now our relationship is unsalvageable.”

Her head snapped up.

He hardened himself to the hurt in her gaze. Even though the truth tore his guts out, too—their relationship really was unsalvageable.

“Why?” Her voice went soft as a whisper and hoarse as a scream, all in that one precious syllable.

“Honestly?” He leaned forward, still gripping her hands on his erection. “Because now when I look at you, I’m obsessed with one thing.”

“What?”

“I’ve been thinking about your soft tits pressed against my back and how I never got to see them.” He glanced at her rapidly rising and falling chest. “I’ve been thinking about what color your nipples must be because I’m pretty damn sure with hair like yours, they’re either going to be peach or completely pale, and not knowing is fucking killing me.”

Her gasp had his cock jerking.

Shit. He was floating off course. No, he was fucking sprinting in the wrong direction. He should be retreating or locking her in this damn room until he could think straight. But he was doing the opposite. He was picturing how far he could go before this blew up in their faces.

It must have been the scotch, because his blood seemed to vibrate in his veins, and his self-control vanished.

He released his hold on her hand, hooked his finger in the top of her dress, and tugged.

Her sweet, perfect, little tits popped out.

He groaned. Peach. They were fucking peach. And big.

Big peach nipples for him to suck on.

“There. Now we know, don’t we?” He hadn’t meant to be so nasty, but then she was the one who started this.

He’d have been fine. Kept his shit together. His cock to himself.

If she hadn’t come on to him the way she had…

Something soft brushed the tip of his dick.

His gaze tore from her chest. She still gripped his shaft even though he’d let go.

With her free hand, she’d reached out and touched the bead of pre-cum with her index finger. He stood riveted as she smeared the liquid around the head of his cock, her features lax with obvious fascination.

As if she’d never seen a hard-on up close.

“What are you doing, Aria?” His voice dropped ten octaves.

He’d tried to teach her a lesson. Scare her off and end this madness once and for all. She wasn’t supposed to be playing with his dick.

She wrapped her other hand around his length and stroked him with both fists.

Holy fuck. Tension gathered in his balls. Years’ worth of tension. Of wanting her and wanting her and never touching.

Never having.

She tugged at him with complete inelegance. Oh, shit. They shouldn’t be doing this. He should be the responsible one. Only he couldn’t move. Her innocent touch sent tremors through him. Nothing had ever felt as good as her hands on his cock.

“Stop.” He groaned and grabbed her shoulder. But he didn’t stop her. Not really. She’d be halfway across the room if he’d really tried. “This is not okay.”

She drew near, as though she had to be closer to what she was doing, and increased the glide of her hands along his cock.

Fuck.

“Aria, this is bad.” His voice became breathless and uncompelling. “You’re being so bad.”

He fisted her hair, right at the base of her neck, the way he’d always imagined doing. The restrictive hold didn’t slow her down. Not even for a second. If anything, his grip spurred her on.

He tilted his hips forward and bucked into her touch. Over and over. Finally, living out his fantasy.

His gaze flashed between her sneaky hands and her irresistible tits. One temptation after another. Tension took over his body. He tugged her hair, hard, arching her back and lifting her chest to him.

“Harder.” He was close. “Faster.”

His forbidden love obeyed, working him with delicate enthusiasm. She was too much and not enough, all at once. He wanted all of her. Not just her hands. Not just her anticipation.

He needed her moans. Her body. Her devotion.

His muscles seized tight. Fuck. He erupted all over her exposed tits.

Pleasure squeezed his balls. He emptied everything he had onto the beautiful canvas of her chest with a deep groan. Then leaned forward and rubbed his pulsing cock between her breasts until the twitching stopped.

He released his grip on her hair, and she sagged back on the mattress. His gaze flowed over her. Her eyes were glazed, her cheeks flushed, and her breath erratic. A tremble shuddered over her skin.

She lay there limp.

Ruined.

And he’d accused her of behaving unacceptably?

He stared at her heaving, semen-covered chest. What a vulgar thing to do to a sweet girl.

Reason number five million why he should’ve stayed the hell away.

Such a lovely, precious person had no place in his filthy bed.

But she’d teased out his darkest needs. Broke the lock on his most guarded desires. And now they were all free.