Page 7

7

CONNOR

B emused, I allow Sunny to lead me around the old Victorian mansion. The house has good bones but I see several places where the wood is getting rotten and areas where it’s been chipped or broken.

I could fix that, I think and catch myself wondering if Sunny has access to any tools. Then I remind myself I’m only here for a quick house tour and then I’ll be on my way again. After all, I have to get back to Branson like I promised sometime, right?

Sunny takes me all over the house—well, the downstairs, anyway. The upstairs is shut off because, as she explains, it costs too much to heat and cool it. And since she’s the only one living here and she has her bedroom on the bottom floor, why should she pay money to heat or cool empty rooms?

She shows me an old-fashioned kitchen with a gas stove and a pea-green refrigerator.

“The same one our Nan bought when she first moved in here when Momma was just a little girl,” she said proudly, patting the ancient but still humming appliance. Then she puts a hand over her mouth. “ Oh , I’m sorry—do you remember Momma or Nan at all? You were so young when your dad took you away…”

“No, afraid not,” I say, truthfully enough, shaking my head.

Sunny gets a sad look in her pretty amber eyes.

“Momma never got over losing you, you know,” she tells me. “ She used to cry for you sometimes— I remember wondering why she was so sad when I was little.”

I’m not sure what to say to this. It’s a sad story but not an unusual one in the Were world. When two people split, the male Were almost always keeps any sons while his mate gets the daughters.

“What about your father?” I ask, to change the subject.

“Oh, he died before Momma did.” She sounds sad. “ I lost all of them in the space of three years—first Nan , then Daddy , then Momma . That’s why I was so thrilled when you finally wrote me back. It made me feel so good to have family in my life again.”

I feel kind of bad, continuing to deceive her like this. But it’s clear she needs a big brother and I’m happy I can fill the role.

“I was glad too,” I tell her truthfully. “ You know, your letters got me through some really dark times. Whenever I read one, it felt like a ray of sunshine was coming right into my cell.”

Sunny breaks into a smile.

“Oh, Kane —that’s the nicest thing anyone’s ever said to me. Thank you!”

She hugs me again and this time I hug her back with less trepidation. I love how warm and soft she feels in my arms— I haven’t been this close to a woman in years. In fact, living in Cellblock C , I barely even saw any women since they didn’t allow any female guards around the Rogue Alphas .

I’d forgotten how soft and sweet women can be—how warm and gentle and loving. It’s nice to be reminded.

But her soft body against mine produces an unintended effect. As her full breasts rub against my abs, I can feel my cock getting hard. Hastily , I shuffle back a bit, putting some distance between us. I can’t be getting a hard-on with my own little sister! Even if she isn’t really my sister at all, I still don’t want to offend her.

Sunny doesn’t seem to have noticed my problem, or at least, she doesn’t say anything about it. She just smiles when she pulls away and then takes me by the hand.

“Come on—let’s get comfy on the couch so we can talk.”

She leads me back to the living room which contains an overstuffed sofa with a faded floral print. I’m willing to bet this was also one of her Nan’s original possessions. There’s a hand-braided rag rug on the floor and a TV on a stand across from the couch. Everything is shabby but extremely neat and clean. It appears that Sunny lives in gentile poverty but you’d never know it by the pride she obviously takes in her home.

The living room is lit by two chunky, old-fashioned lamps with broad shades. They cast a warm, golden glow in the room which is good, since the outside light is fading.

It’s going to be time to go back to my truck soon, I think, noticing the rapidly approaching dusk. But somehow I can’t bear to leave yet. I want to sit with Sunny and talk—to catch up on all the people’s lives she told me about in her letters.

I told her some about prison life and the inmates around me too, but none of the violent, scary parts. I told her the funny stuff—like the time I was working in the kitchen and made a cake out of mashed potatoes and frosted and decorated it with whipped lard.

Everyone in the chow line was eager for a taste but I was saving it for a certain inmate who had given me trouble. I cut him a fat slice and he dug in before he even examined it. His face when he got a mouthful of cold mashed potatoes and lard “frosting” was fucking priceless! Sunny had gotten a real kick out of that story.

“So what’s going on?” I ask her as we settle on the couch, which is surprisingly comfortable. “ Did your friend Lucy find out if she’s pregnant or not?”

Her eyes widen.

“Yes—and she is. But let me tell you, her husband is not happy about it!”

And we’re off. She fills me in on what happened since her last letter and I do the same, though I don’t talk nearly as much as she does. That’s fine with me though— I could listen to her sweet voice and watch her gorgeous face as she “spills the tea” all night long.

God, I can’t believe I’m actually here with her! I imagined this so many times—thought about sitting with her and just talking, like we are now. Just being able to communicate face-to-face instead of with letters. The reality is even better than my fantasy—her smile warms me all the way through.

I had some concerns that we might not be able to connect in person the way we did on paper, but those prove to be completely unfounded. If anything, we get along even better in person. We fit together so well, I can almost hear an audible click.

We end up talking for hours and the windows are completely black by the time I finally sigh and say,

“Well, I guess I should get going now.”

“Get going where?” Sunny demands, narrowing her eyes at me suspiciously. “ You got somewhere to be?”

Actually, I do— I promised Branson this “errand” wouldn’t take long. But the fictional Kane I built doesn’t have anywhere to be or anyone to see and Sunny knows that.

“Well…” I say slowly. “ It’s just getting late and I know you usually have to get up early to bake pies and make dinner rolls for the diner.”

“That doesn’t mean I’m going to kick you out!” She sounds horrified at the idea. “ You’re staying here tonight.”

“Here?” I look around blankly. “ Really , Sunny —you don’t have to?—”

“Yes, I do!” she says firmly. “ You’re my big brother—where else should you stay but with your little sister?”

“Well…” I say again, but Sunny takes that for an acceptance.

“Great, but let’s watch a movie before we turn in—they have monster movie marathons every night on the Slash TV channel. Are you up for it?”

“Well…sure.” I shrug, defeated. It looks like I’m staying here tonight. I’ll have to text Branson and let him know.

“Okay, I’m going to change into my jammies so I can get comfortable,” Sunny tells me. “ I’ll be right back.”

She disappears into the back of the house and I take the opportunity to let Branson know I won’t be seeing him until tomorrow. By the time I put my phone away, Sunny is back.

She’s wearing a silky white nightgown that falls to mid-thigh and a white silk robe that goes over it. I try really hard not to notice how her full breasts and tight nipples poke at the thin material or the way her short but shapely legs show under the lacy hem. Why does she have to be so fucking gorgeous when I’m pretending to be her brother and she’s completely off limits?

Sunny settles on the couch beside me and grabs for the remote. She flips to the channel she wants and it turns out to be a movie about werewolves, of all things.

Inwardly, I sigh—the human world almost never gets it right when they talk about my people. But this one is fairly accurate—only the males in the story have Wolves in them—that’s right, at least. They all Shift in the most gruesome, slow-motion way with lots of blood and guts, though—it’s not really like that, thank the Moon Goddess !

All the time we’re watching the movie, I’m watching Sunny . I’m still trying to figure out if she has any Were heritage or knows anything about the Were world. It’s hard to tell by her reaction—she gasps and gives cute little screams when the bad werewolves attack. At one point she grabs my arms in fright and I notice how cold her hands are.

“Hey, you’re freezing.” Gently , I capture her hands between my own. Leaning down, I breathe on her chilly fingers.

“Mmm, your hands are so warm!” She looks up at me with big eyes. God , she’s gorgeous! “ I’m always cold at night,” she adds. “ I love this house but it gets really drafty.”

Part of the problem is that she needs some new insulation and to fix some of the warped wood around her doors and windows. I could do that, whispers a little voice in my head. But not tonight—tonight she just needs to be warmed up.

“I run hot, like I said before,” I say. I’m still holding her hands in mine and somehow we’re looking into each other’s eyes, the werewolf movie forgotten.

“Could you…would you think it was weird if I asked to cuddle up to you?” Sunny murmurs. “ I mean, I know we just met…”

“That’s not true,” I object. “ We’ve been talking for two years—it’s just that this is the first time we’ve met in person. But it feels like I’ve known you forever, baby.”

Her eyes soften.

“It feels like that to me, too,” she admits.

“Come here.” I let go of her hands and hold out my arms to her. “ Let me warm you up.”

Sunny hesitates for just a second, then scoots over to sit close so our thighs are touching. She lays her head against my chest and I wrap one arm around her shoulders and pull her even closer.

She makes a little sound like, “ Oh !” and then melts against me. I can feel her soft breasts against my side and smell her warm, clean, feminine scent as she slides one arm around my waist and cuddles close.

From that point on, the movie is a loss. I can’t pay a spec of attention to it because I’m wholly focused on Sunny . She’s looking at the screen, so I can look at her without her catching me.

I find myself studying her features. Her thick black hair, loosed from its ponytail, spills over my chest like a glossy shawl and I have to stop myself from petting it—from petting her . My fingers itch to trail down from her shoulder and slide over her waist and hip, tracing her curves, but I resist the urge.

I still can’t figure out if she has any Were blood or not. Her scent is a mystery—one I desperately want to solve. I think I detect a note of feminine heat in it, but I must be mistaken. After all, she thinks I’m her big brother—there’s no way she’s attracted to me the same way I have to admit I’m attracted to her.

Of course, all this closeness and cuddling is bound to have an effect on me. I curse the fact that my jeans are too tight—they make it really obvious that I’m sporting a hard-on. I shift uneasily on the couch, wishing I could adjust myself. I feel like a fucking high school kid all over again—popping a boner the minute a pretty girl gets near me.

Sunny seems oblivious to my condition, despite the fact that my cock had formed a long, thick ridge in the crotch of my jeans. She seems focused on the TV and the movie about the werewolves, which is coming to a bloody and predictable end.

I’m completely focused on her —every time she shifts against me it feels like her small, soft body makes more contact with mine. I’ve been starved for physical touch for so long, though I don’t think I knew it until now. I feel like a man who’s been on a hunger strike for years suddenly faced with a juicy steak.

That’s not a very romantic metaphor, but it’s how I fucking feel. Like I’m hungry for Sunny —like I could eat her up if I’m not careful.

That thought brings on another—a fantasy of pushing her down on the couch and spreading her deliciously thick thighs. I wonder if she has on panties under the silky white robe and gown. I wonder if they’re lacy little things I could pull off with my teeth. I wonder if her pussy would get wet for me and if she’d spread her legs willingly to let me in. I wonder what her juices taste like—if she’d moan and quiver under my tongue as I tasted her pussy and she cried my name…

God, I have to stop thinking like this! I give myself a mental slap. What’s wrong with me? Sunny is a sweet, innocent girl and I’m supposed to be her big brother. I can’t be imagining going down on her, picturing her pulling my hair and moaning for me while I part her lower lips with my tongue and tease her tight little clit…

And there I go again. I swear my mind’s in the gutter. Fuck — I wish I could just go jerk off but the movie is almost over and I’m afraid she’d know what I was doing in the bathroom!

At last the movie ends and I breathe a private sigh of relief. Now she’ll go sleep in her room and I can stay out here on the couch and maybe get some relief from this raging erection that refuses to go down.

But when I look down at Sunny again, she’s asleep. Her breathing is soft and even and her eyelashes are like black fans across her high cheekbones. She’s like a little girl, curled against my side, trusting me to take care of her.

I’m surprised at the rush of tenderness that overcomes me. I haven’t felt this emotion—the desire to protect, to cherish and guard—in so long that it feels completely foreign…but also completely right. I just want to keep her safe.

“Guess it’s time to get you to bed, baby,” I murmur, stroking a strand of long, silky hair out of her face.

Sunny mumbles something in her sleep, “ Bedtime ,” it sounds like and sighs contentedly.

I guess it’s up to me to tuck her in.