My long, black hair hangs in waves down my back. My olive skin gives me a year-round tan, and boys hit on me all the time. Too bad the only man I want is forbidden.
When my mother passed away three years ago, I admit, I went off the deep end. The only man who understands me is my uncle. He was the one who was there to listen to me cry, to hear me confess how much it hurt that she’s no longer around. I’ve had him to confide in for so long, and he’s been amazing, giving me advice and helping me through the worst.
My stepfather, on the other hand, is the complete opposite, because he would lock me away in a tower if he could. As long as I have my phone, I’ll still be able to talk to Grayson. I know my uncle’s younger than most, and perhaps that’s why he gets me, but I know I wouldn’t have been able to get through the three years after losing my mother if it weren’t for him.
Somehow, over the time we’d grown closer, I’d lost my heart to him. I’ve fallen, and there’s no way back up. I’m head over fucking heels. So, whenever he tells me about yet another notch on his bedpost, I go off the deep end, finding some willing college boy who’ll allow me to be his arm candy, and I do it only to make Grayson jealous.
I know dreams of him will haunt me tonight, and I’ll wake up with my hand between my thighs until I find relief. Only, the desire never abates. It just grows stronger. Images of being under one of the most important men in my life have me once again pulsing with need.
Is it wrong to want your uncle to fuck you?
Because I want Grayson Connor to do just that.
But is it wrong to want to make love to him too?
Yes, it is.
All I have to live with are the what ifs.
Chapter 2
Grayson
Last night, when I caught Mila sneaking in after curfew, I wanted to tell her father, but I know my brother, and he’ll only worry. So, I decided I won’t say anything to Gabe just yet. I’m concerned she’s still acting like a rogue teenager.
After three years of being her shoulder to cry on, her advisor, and the person who’s always been there for her in the roughest of times, I feel as if I have a responsibility to keep her secrets, but I’m grown up enough to know if she does do something stupid, I’ll be there to catch her.
It’s just hit six in the morning, the sun is just peeking through the windows, and I’ve been in my brother’s gym for almost an hour. Working out has always helped clear my mind when it comes to Mila, but I can’t stop the thoughts of her in that tiny mini skirt she wore last night. She had me rock fucking hard, and I rushed to my room to jerk off, thinking about how her ass felt pressed against my dick.
Lifting the weight, I can’t help watching the sweat drip from my chest. Before I have time to think any more about last night, the door swings open, and Mila’s hourglass figure strolls over the threshold. She’s dressed in Lycra leggings and a sports bra. Her long hair is tied into a messy bun, and she looks like sin.
“Morning, Grayson,” she coos, and I know she’s trying to taunt me. She loves it, yet she doesn’t realize I know exactly what she’s doing.
“Mila,” I grunt, and with great difficulty, I drag my gaze from her and concentrate on what I’m doing. The mirror allows me to drink in her perfect form as she straddles the spinning machine while my cock thickens imagining her riding me.
Get a fucking grip.
“What are you doing today?” she questions without meeting my eyes in the mirror. Her voice soft and melodic, and I bend over, having to put the weights down before I kill myself by dropping them.
“Your father and I are meeting a supplier, but I’m heading in early because I need to get the paperwork to the office first. Then I’m having lunch with Colette,” I add on, knowing she hates the woman I’ve been seeing on and off for the past two months. But it’s merely an agreement of no-strings fun. Yet, each time Colette joins me here at the house, Mila’s face glowers with anger.
I realized early on it was jealousy, and I played it to my advantage.
It may be juvenile, but when Mila brings her boy-toys home, I’m rabid. We play this game of cat and mouse, and each day my restraint slips a little more. The need to pull her across my lap and spank her pert little ass is enough to have me straining in my boxers every time she’s around.