3
“Remember the time you filled that whole jar with fireflies?” Dad is asking, laughing as Susan prepares another round of s’mores for us.
I accept mine with a grin of thanks and roll my eyes at Dad. “I let them go right after.”
“Yes, but you insisted on catching at least fifty of the buggers first. Took half the night. It was worth it for the look on your face though, when you finally caught them all.”
“That was the night we had the Fourth of July bonfire, wasn’t it?” Josh butts in. “I remember that. When you let the jar go you released all the bugs in my face.” He nudges me with a knee.
We’re side-by-side on one of the few logs around our backyard firepit, marshmallow toasting sticks in hand. I tried to sit on the other side of the fire from him, but he followed me around and plopped down right next to me. It would’ve looked weird to move away again, so we’ve been stuck here ever since, me trying to avoid his more obvious touches.
I bite into my s’more now to avoid responding.
“You were so afraid of them,” Susan interrupts, sparing me. She’s snickering too. “They’re only fireflies, Josh.”
“The way they light up is creepy,” he protests.
I glance past him, out across the fields behind us. A few fireflies are out already, dotting the grass here and there. “You still scared of them?”
I swallow my bite of s’more and cast him a smirk.
“Of course not,” he scoffs. Over his shoulder, Susan winks and nods. Josh, on the other hand, is glaring at me. “You missed a spot,” he says, and I tilt my head in confusion, until he runs a fingertip along my cheek, scooping up some marshmallow goop that escaped my s’more. We lock eyes as he slowly slides his finger into his mouth and licks it clean.
I swallow again, louder this time. Glance past him. But our parents are deep in conversation again, this time about their children’s respective phobias.
“Pau can’t stand werewolves,” Dad is saying, and Susan bursts into laughter.
“What?”
“Seriously, any horror movies that involve them, even big dogs…”
“Dad,” I groan.
Josh wraps an arm around my shoulders and jostles me slightly. “Don’t worry, Pau. I’ll protect you from the big bad wolf.”
I groan and bury my head in my arms. Mostly to avoid giving anything away, because damn, my whole body feels like it’s on fire right now, the way he’s touching me. So easy and self-assured. Almost possessive. Like he already knows he has me right where he wants me.
But he doesn’t.
He can’t.
When I straighten again, Josh lets his arm drop. But he still casts me a sideways grin, a knowing smile, like we’re sharing a secret.
We are, I realize, remembering that kiss earlier, the hard press of his cock against my thigh, the way my belly tightened and my panties still feel a little damp now as I shift in my seat on this uncomfortable log.
We’re sharing a terrible, impossible, sinful-as-hell secret.
Suddenly, Josh stands up. Strides away without looking back. I frown after him, then catch my dad scowling at the fire.
Quick, change the subject.
“So Susan,” I say, then I pause, stutter. Realize I should probably call her something else now. But Mom sounds so wrong, so… fake. We all trade awkward glances. “I mean, er…”
“You can keep calling me Susan,” she says gently.
I grimace. Force a smile. “Sorry. I was just going to ask about your new job, if you’re moving back up here…”
Awkward moment narrowly dodged, we fall into easy conversation again. For a while, anyway, I’m able to forget about the sizzle in the air, the tension brewing, like the atmosphere before a lightning storm begins. All pent-up, charged energy that needs to release.
Josh comes back, but this time he sits on the other side of the fire, away from me. I should feel good about that. It should feel like relief, to not have to dodge his advances for a while. Instead, it makes my chest ache worse. Somehow, worse than his flirting, is not having him flirt with me.
But after half an hour of chitchat, Dad and Susan stand up and announce they’re heading to bed early.
“We’ll clean up,” Josh insists, and I’m stuck right back with him again, with that electricity pent up between us.
I jump up from my seat and start to collect the marshmallow bags and chocolate wrappers lying around the fire. I finish that, then return to help douse the fire, when Josh catches me. We both shoot sideways glances at the cabin, but the lights in the big cabin are dark now. There’s nobody else out here but us.
That has barely registered in my brain before he’s pulling me into his arms again, and our lips are colliding, and dammit, why can’t I resist him?
We stumble out of the fire circle, just far enough that the light from the dying embers won’t illuminate us. Then he pulls me down with him into the grass, and we collapse in a tumble of limbs, too busy kissing to notice how we’re sprawled together until we stop rolling. He’s lying on top of me, his body hard everywhere I’m soft, the contrast so right and so wrong at the same time. Wrong because it makes me want more. I want to rip off his shirt, feel his smooth skin against mine. Run my hands over every inch of his perfect, sculpted body. Let him explore me in turn, let him touch me and take me and claim me. I want his hands on my breasts, my stomach, my ass. I want him to spread my legs and slide his thick, strong fingers between my legs. I want him to part my pussy lips and explore me one inch at a time, take it so slowly that I think I’ll explode before he finally lets me come.
Thinking about all of that, I arch up against him, and spread my legs as he slides between my thighs, the thick length of his cock hard again already, digging into my inner thigh. I groan into our kiss, and his tongue slides between my lips, claims my mouth for his own.
I gasp again and pull back, just far enough to break that kiss. “Josh, stop.”
He pauses, a frown creasing his forehead. In the moonlight, he looks like the boy I kissed six years ago. He looks like that boy, but also like a stranger. A man I don’t know at all. A man I want to know, in every sense of the word.
“What’s wrong?” he murmurs.
“We can’t do this. You know we can’t.”
He tilts his head to one side. Searches my gaze. “Because our parents are married?”
“Of course,” I hiss, so low and loud that he leans back a little, laughs in spite of himself.
“Pau. It’s not like we’re really related.”
“So?!” I shake my head so hard that his eyes widen. I lower my voice again, nervous that our parents might wake up and peer out the window. It’s dark enough, and the fire has dimmed enough that I don’t think they’ll be able to see this far out from the cabin. Probably. But I’d rather not chance it. “Josh, for all intents and purposes, we’re brother and sister now. We can’t do this. It’s wrong.”
But my hands are speaking a different story. Even as I protest, they’re still wrapped around his neck. My fingers slide through his hair, trace the back of his neck.
“Paulina.” The sound of my full name makes me tense again. I want to hear him say that in different circumstances. I want to hear him scream it as he spreads my legs and drives his thick cock into me…
No. I shake my head.
He cups my cheek and leans in to feather kisses along my jawline. Trail his lips down the side of my neck. “What’s really going on?” he whispers into the crook of my neck. “Clearly you want to do this as much as I do. What’s the real problem?”
His other hand trails down my chest, his fingers tracing the edges of my breasts. Even through my bra, I can feel my nipples begin to harden at his touch.
“Exactly what I said it is,” I murmur, unable to stop myself from squirming under him.