“Nothing happened.” His eyes dart away, and his shoulders go tense.
Liar.
“And we were never cool. I tolerated you, and I’m over it.”
“That’s bullshit,” I growl. “Tell me what the fuck happened.”
“You did!” he bellows, a flash of pain glimmering in his eyes. “You and your dad ruined everything!”
In a ninja-type move I’m sure he learned on his nerdy anime shit, he hops over the table, charging at me once more. I trip over my own feet, falling hard on my ass, taking him down with me. My head hits the floor hard enough for stars to glitter around me.
And then darkness.
I hear it squeaking. Oh, God, I feel it. Crawling on my blanket.
“Momma,” I whimper. “Momma.”
She doesn’t come to my rescue, so I wish for Colin to save me instead. He says he doesn’t do drugs anymore like Momma still does with her friends. The drugs used to make Colin mean, but he’s not as scary anymore. Not like the mice. They’re terrifying. More scary and awful than when Momma shakes me so hard my teeth rattle. Since Colin isn’t mean and doesn’t hit her anymore, she lets her boyfriends do it to her instead. And whenever I try to save her from them, she lets them smack me around, telling me I got what I deserved. Sometimes they lock me in the closet.
Another squeak has me crying out in fear, my attention back on the tugging of the blanket as the mouse crawls on me.
Hitting the blanket with my fist, I send the monster thudding to the floor. The squeak is louder—angrier—and the scratch of its feet can be heard as it scampers across the floor.
A full-bodied shudder trembles through me.
I hate them.
I hate the mice.
I hate the—
“Wonderland!”
I blink open my eyes open, shivering at the lingering dark memories. The whining I’d heard wasn’t me as a boy but the me now. Scared and worried.
Canyon’s furious glare is gone. His brows are dipped in concern, which has my chest squeezing. He’s sprawled on top of me from our fall, but instead of beating my ass, his thumb is gently stroking my cheek.
“You hit your head,” he murmurs. “And then…you…”
I reach up, overcome with the urge to touch him. To connect to this reality and shed the past. My fingers run through his soft hair, tracing the curve of his skull until I reach his nape. The hair there is trimmed short and prickly compared to the longer tresses on top. He groans when my thumb runs along the shell of his ear.
“I don’t understand,” I whisper. “I don’t understand how we were almost friends and then—”
My words are silenced when he dips down, his soft lips lightly brushing over mine. I freeze, unsure where he’s taking this but eager to find out. Rather than kiss me, his breath tickles my lips.
“I’ve never kissed a guy before,” he admits, the sound barely audible. “Now it’s all I can think about.”
I part my lips, fully aware of everywhere his larger, more muscular body presses into me. He’s aroused, like myself, his erection pressing shamelessly against me.
“Don’t think.” I slide my palm to the back of his head, drawing him to me. “Do.”
His lips kiss mine softly, and then a growl rumbles through him. He presses his tongue against mine, his need to dominate me a potent flavor I can’t get enough of. I moan as he kisses me deeply—it’s filled with longing and curiosity and pure lust. Teeth nip at my bottom lip, sending fire licking its way down my spine on a path to my balls. I’m aching for friction and release and whatever else his body might offer me.
Fuck.
This is my future stepbrother.
Dad wouldn’t kill me. He’d just disown me.
Where would I be then?
In some mice-infested trailer like when I was a kid?
“You’re supposed to be a shitty kisser,” I complain, turning my head as I speak, trying to find the strength to stop whatever is happening.
“Sorry to disappoint.” His hot breath tickles my jaw. He presses kisses along the way, the path to my neck now his new agenda.
“Canyon,” I cry out as his tongue teases my flesh below my ear. “We have to stop this.”
“We do?”
I run my fingers through his hair, lifting my hips, aching to feel his cock grinding against me. He sucks on my neck, gifting me with more hickeys I’ll have to answer for later. A mewl escapes me the second I feel his fingers on my stomach where my shirt has ridden up.
All resolve to push him away and stop the kissing and touching fades. Fiery need chases away logic and reasoning, leaving me a burning pile of want.
“You taste so good,” he murmurs near my ear. “So fucking good.”
His large palm slides up beneath my shirt, fingertips drifting over one of my nipples before reaching my collarbone. He touches the silver chain around my neck, tugging at it as if to test its strength.