“Ellie? Dinner’s ready.” He leaned into the doorway to the living room to find Ellie leaning over the fireplace—perfectly displaying every curve of her ass in those threadbare jeans. Ellie was not just beautiful, she was hot as hell. Why had he never really noticed before? “Ellie?”

“Oh!” she said as she looked over her shoulder. It was the perfect view. Her gorgeous face crested over the fullness of her backside. Slip off that see-through white shirt and turn her jeans inside out, and it was the same view he’d be enjoying while taking her from behind. “Sorry, I didn’t hear you,” she said, straightening up. “I was just adjusting the fire.”

“Dinner’s ready,” he repeated, clearing his throat. Is she blushing, or is it just the fire?

He could hear her behind him, padding down the hall toward the kitchen with bare feet. “So, no bodyguards out here, huh?” he asked.

“Oh, no. Eli called them off, thank God. Apparently being in a remote cabin gives Mr. President enough peace of mind to leave me be. Besides, how awkward would it be running off to be alone—except for the four agents that have to watch me sleep?”

“And run around in towels.” Henry smirked, and she playfully batted at him.

“I have no apologies! You’re the one sneaking around in someone’s cabin without permission.”

“Yeah, yeah. But I make up for it with some incredible steaks. Here, have a seat,” he said, pulling out a chair at the breakfast table for her.

“Wouldn’t you, uh… wouldn’t you rather eat in the dining room?” she asked.

“The dining room! Fancy. Good idea,” he said. Why didn’t I think of that? It’s just one night, and it’s Ellie. You can do this. You can resist her.

The formal dining room was rarely used when he'd come here with Eli. Initially the group would try to make use of it, turning the thick wooden table into a makeshift poker table. They tried to gather for formal “men’s meals” of meat and potatoes, especially after a day of fishing to show off their catches, but it never really stuck. The formal dining room was more intimate than a group of friends could handle, the darkest room in the house with its own fireplace and elegant mantel. The buffet lining one side of the wall held the good china and solid silver flatware, while the butler’s pantry connecting it to the kitchen was stocked with fine, etched crystal stemware they never dared touch.

The crystal stemware ban was lifted tonight as Henry pulled out all the stops. “M’lady.” He gestured to a chair, much grander than those in the breakfast nook. As Ellie slipped into the tufted, hand-carved chair, he couldn’t help but catch a glimpse of her breasts below the deep scoop neck of her shirt. The bra she'd slipped on was thin enough to allow the outline of her nipples to show through. “Wine?” he asked, and she nodded. Thank God I picked up a good bottle, he thought. He'd been close to going with the bargain brand, but upgraded at the last minute to treat himself at the encouragement of the local shopkeeper.

“You’re such a gentleman!” There was a twinkle in her eye, but he got the idea that she was only half-joking.

“You can thank Aunt Mary for that. Well, and probably the fact that you simply pick some things up by the time you’re thirty-five.”

“Who’s Aunt Mary?” she asked, swirling the deep burgundy in her glass.

“You don’t remember Aunt Mary? She used to drop me off at your house. She’s who took me in after my parents passed.”

“Oh, I’m sorry. I don’t… I was really young. I’m sorry, I didn’t mean—”

“It’s okay. I’m sorry,” he said. “Actually, now that I think about it, Aunt Mary wasn’t dropping me off after you were, oh, probably five or six. It’s no wonder you don’t remember. Sometimes I forget how young you are.”

She opened her mouth to say something, then snapped it shut. The comment stung. He should’ve known to stay away from that dynamite. “Tell me about her,” Ellie said instead.

“Well, she was a very devout woman. Really religious. She tried to pass that onto me, but it didn’t stick much.”

“You don’t believe in God?” Ellie asked suddenly, lowering her glass.

“Not like Aunt Mary did,” he said with a laugh. “Go on and eat. Try the steak. The tempura vegetables, too.” He watched her cut into the filet. Perfect medium rare, he thought. Sometimes he didn’t get the middle quite right.

“Oh my God,” she murmured through her first bite. “This is amazing.”

“It seems Aunt Mary made a believer out of you, at least,” he said.

Ellie laughed, swallowing her bite and letting her head fall back. Auburn sheets of hair bounced off her shoulders before cascading down her back. Damn, she really is beautiful.

“Did she teach you to cook?” she asked.

“Of course. She was a Home Ec schoolteacher at the high school until she retired. Nobody could cook a steak like her,” he said, cutting into his own filet.

“Well,” Ellie said, slipping another morsel between her plump lips, “I think you did her proud with this.”

Watching her eat was sensuality beyond anything he’d seen before. Every time she took the food into her mouth, her eyes rolled back slightly and he caught just a glimpse of how he imagined her in bed. Why are you imagining her in bed?

“That was absolutely incredible,” she said as she finished, pushing the plate away. “Seriously, it may be the best I’ve ever had.”

“No room for dessert? I have berries the grocer swears are lifechanging.”

“Hmm,” Ellie said, moving her hand across her abdomen. “Maybe later. Or for breakfast. I can’t eat another bite.”

A part of him was grateful. He didn’t think he could handle watching her ways with strawberries. “Here, I’ll take that,” he said as she stood up with her plate.

“Don’t be silly! You cooked, the least I can do is help clean up.” Squeezing through the butler’s pantry, Ellie stumbled a bit, falling into his chest. “Oops, sorry! One too many glasses of wine, maybe.”

“Yeah, you seemed to love that bottle. It revved up your appetite, too.” Her cheeks flushed, and she glanced down. “I mean—you normally just eat like a bird. That’s all.”

“You know, I often hear the expression ‘eating like a bird,’ but it’s really a falsity. Because birds eat a tremendous amount.” She glanced up through her eyelashes at him.

“What are you talking about?” he asked with a nervous laugh. She was still pressed into him, the mirrored cabinet doors of the butler’s pantry multiplying their images ten times over.

“I'm paraphrasing, but it's a scene from Psycho! Don’t you know? Norman Bates says it.”

“You’re the psycho, quoting serial killer lines at me in some secluded cabin!” He pushed her through the door into the kitchen.

“Norman Bates was a fictional character. He was barely even based on real serial killers,” she said, rinsing her plate at the sink.

“The fact you even know that is disconcerting.”

“Ha ha. You know, it’s a good thing you’re leaving tomorrow. Otherwise, I’d get so fat with you cooking all the time.”

“Oh, really? You know, you could use some good feeding,” he replied, coming up behind her and nudging her out of the way to finish cleaning. Ellie fell silent beside him. “What’s wrong?” he asked, but she just shook her head. “Hey, I didn’t mean it like—”

“It’s fine.”

“Let me just… I’ll finish these. You go back to the living room, and I’ll bring in a fresh bottle. I think you’ll like this one, too.”

By the time he’d finished the dishes and aerated the new bottle, Ellie was curled up on the couch wrapped in a luxe blanket. “There’s room enough in here for two!” she called. Clearly, she was still wrapped up in the wine from dinner—and over the moment in the kitchen.

“I’m not sure you need another glass,” he said, sitting down next to her. “But I need at least a little help making a dent in it.” However, one glass turned into two.

“You know,” Ellie said, licking the glass rim as he poured her second serving in the living room, “I’m glad the whole towel thing happened, actually.”

“And why’s that?” The wine was starting to swim slow laps in his own head, too. This was dangerous territory. The rich blanket that had swallowed Ellie from the waist down was starting to inch across his own thigh.

“Just, like, it’s all out there. You know?”

“All out there is one way to put it.”

“Hey! You know what I mean.”

“Why do you always lick the glass?” He’d wanted to ask for years, but it had never felt right.

“What?”

“The glass. You always lick them. I’ve… noticed for a while.”

“Oh! Habit now, I guess. It keeps lipstick off of it—but I’m not even wearing any now!”

“You’re cute, you know that?” he asked. It just slipped out; he couldn’t help it.

“Cute, huh? Yeah. Like your kid sister or a puppy.” She shook her head and took another sip of wine.

“No, I don’t mean that. I mean… gorgeous. You’ve become strikingly gorgeous, and I’m not even sure when it happened.”

“Henry! Don’t tease me like that,” she whispered.

The heat from her thigh pressing against his was almost unbearable. It was just one foot to close the distance between them. Letting the wine take the wheel, he felt himself dipping his face while his hand cupped her chin, lifting those idyllic lips toward his.

“I better go to bed,” she said, turning her face away and rising up.

“Oh, right. It’s late,” he said. Jesus, man, what’s wrong with you? He could kick himself for being so stupid. This was Ellie! Eli’s sister. He couldn’t be thinking about her like that. She was like family. Or at least she used to be. “Well, have a good night,” he said, pulling the blanket across his lap.

“Are you going to your room?” she asked, turning her head and looking at him just like she had when she'd dropped the towel.

“Um, yeah, in a minute. I’m just going to relax out here awhile longer.”

Was he imagining it, or did she take a pointed look at his cock, which he was trying to readjust below the blanket? “Okay, well. ’Night.”

When he heard her running the faucet in the downstairs bathroom, and after his erection subsided, he snuck upstairs without making a sound. Removing the books he’d hidden under the pillow, just in case Ellie went in his room, he slid between the sheets and turned off the bedside lamp.

Seriously, what is wrong with me? She’s not my sister—and would Eli even care? Ellie’s been crushing on me for years, and it’s been way too long since I’ve been with anyone…

Thinking about her now—the coolness of the sheet tracing along his legs and the image of her bent over with just a touch of pink showing between her thighs—he grew hard again instantly. And willed himself not to move his hands. Finally, he heard her go up the stairs and into her room.

What’s she doing in there? Is she thinking about me—did I make an ass of myself?

Between replaying her pulling away on the couch over and over in his mind and conjuring up images of her pert breasts and knowing smile, it took him hours to fall asleep. Still, he never touched himself.