“What?” She looks up at me through her eyelashes. “Uncles hold hands with their nieces, don’t they?”
“When they’re kids, maybe.”
“I didn’t know you when I was a kid. Can’t we make up for lost time?” She holds up my hand and twirls beneath it. “I see lots of presents in my future.”
In the corner of my eye, I see a male neighbor in his driveway, squinting at us in the darkness. Probably wondering if I’m Clara’s new, ancient boyfriend. Probably wondering if I’m going to ride her to the Promised Land as soon as we’re inside the house. Ain’t a red-blooded man alive who wouldn’t wonder about how and when Clara spreads her thighs, but I pass him a black look, anyway, pointing at him in the darkness. In other words, I know where you live. Don’t look. Don’t touch.
Ironic, considering I should be following those rules.
Clara lets go of my hand to unlock the door and I frown, wanting it back. “How come none of those girls tonight helped fix up your knee? Ain’t they your friends?”
She ducks her head and trudges through the open door. “No. Not really.”
“Why not?” I ask, following her inside. “They stupid or something?”
The smile she turns on me makes my steps falter. “No, they’re not stupid. They just think I’m weird.”
I start flipping on lights and going through the house, searching closets and under beds while she follows behind me on the balls of her feet. “Why the hell would they think that?”
“I don’t know…” I pass her in the doorway of a guest room and her tits graze my belly, making her gasp. “Th-they’re into boys. That’s all they’re into. But I think the guys they want to date are gross. I think they’re offended at how much I don’t care. They think I’m stuck up.”
Goddamn, the barest touch of her and heat is wriggling in my veins. I struggle to focus on the conversation, though, because I can tell it’s important to her. Yeah, nice try. It’s important to me. I care so much more than I should about Clara in relation to boys, it’s not even funny. “You don’t date?”
“Do you?” she asks quickly, seeming to hold her breath.
“Been on the boat for months. No one serious before that. Never really had nothing serious. No time. No…interest, either.”
Her shoulders deflate, mouth spreading into a smile. “Oh.”
“You didn’t answer my question,” I say, knowing I shouldn’t.
Before I walk into the bathroom, I turn to catch the shake of her head. “I’ve been to the movies on dates a couple times, but…”
My hand pauses on the shower curtain I’m fitting to wrench back. “But what?” I bark. “Those little motherfuckers get handsy with you?”
“They wanted to,” she murmurs, coming up behind me in the dark bathroom. “I didn’t let them. I never wanted anyone to put their hands on me until I saw you. Now it’s all I can think about.”
Maybe it’s the darkness or the fact that we’re in a place no one can see us, but I can’t help drawing her closer, letting my hands roam over her back. “I was a rough son of a bitch with you tonight, girl. Ain’t no excuse for it, except kissing you…it made me forget the rules. I needed to give you all my come or I was going to die.”
“Kiss me again now, then,” she breathes, running her hands over my shoulders. “Uncles kiss their nieces, don’t they?”
“No.” I fist a section of her hair and pull, tilting her face up. “Not the way we do it. Not with open mouths and tongue.”
“What about tucking me in?” Her fingers brush the curve of my dick. “If we’re making up for lost time, shouldn’t you do that at least once?”
With a growl, I tighten my grip on her hair, lowering my face to hers. “You weren’t really scared of robbers, were you?”
“Oh yes.” She licks her lips. “Petrified. I probably will be all night long.”
My whole being protests over her being alone and afraid. But I’m learning to read my niece and here’s the deal: she can play me like a fucking fiddle. And she knows it. “I’m not staying, Clara, so don’t even try it. We done already gone too damn far with this.” I guide her by the hair through the bathroom doorway, my cock stiffening despite my mental commands. She’s just such a good girl, walking along dutifully under my guiding hand. I’m about to ask which bedroom is hers, but there’s a pink princess sign on one door. Shaking my head, I head us in that direction.
I’m expecting Clara’s room to be tasteful like the rest of the house, so I’m not prepared for the explosion of pink I walk into. “Jesus Christ,” I mutter, letting go of her hair and turning in a circle. Every spare inch of wall space is covered by an inspirational dance poster…or kittens in tutus. So many kittens in tutus. Her bed is cocooned in a gauzy, white canopy draping down from the ceiling. Beneath that, it’s buried under a mountain of stuffed animals. Everything is poofy and pink and sparkly. And I just took the occupant of this room up the ass.