Sweet Taboo

Or maybe it was just sinking in that I’d be left here alone when the storm would be hitting. Yes, that had to be it. There was no other explanation for it.

My parents started talking again, reminding me how to turn on the gas fireplace if we lost power, then said goodbye after they each gave me a warm hug and kisses on my cheeks. A moment later, I heard the front door open and close then their car starting. I stood there and listened to their engine fade into the distance.

I tipped my wine glass back and swallowed a mouthful then went back for a second glass. Then a third. I had one goal in mind tonight—finish that bottle of wine and watch a movie until I passed out. Then I wouldn’t have to think about being left alone during a snowstorm. Yes, I was an adult, and my parents shouldn’t have had to worry about their daughter like they did when I was ten and scared of thunder, but still.

Couldn’t they have postponed date night until after the inclement weather? Fortheirsafety as well?

I grabbed the wine bottle and was about to head into the living room when that heavy feeling intensified. I finally worked out what that sense was.

I wasn’t alone.

And as if my thoughts conjured that reality, there was a hard rap at the front door. I didn’t move right away but turned and faced the entryway of the kitchen and foyer. A second later, there was another rap, this one harder than the first.

Heart in my throat, I headed toward it. My hand had just wrapped around the doorknob when it started turning on its own. I didn’t have time to slide the lock in place before the door was pushed open.

I stumbled back, my jaw unlocking, lips parting as it swung inward. I nearly dropped the bottle of wine but ended up hugging it to my chest as I gasped, both at seeing who it was and the freezing glass suddenly pressed to my cleavage. But it wasn’t relief that filled me when I saw it was my uncle who stood on the other side, dressed all in black and looking me up and down.

It was a wave of heat and lust that instantly slammed into me as well as a healthy dose of fear. I moved several steps back.

This was my uncle. Family. I shouldn’t have any anxiety being around him, but the way he looked at me was primal. Animalistic. And combined with the shame I felt from my lust toward him, my emotions lit up as wholly negative. Family or not.

He came in and shut the door behind him, sealing us in together. This felt… different. And not just because his eyes dropped to where the chilled bottle of wine had hardened my nipples enough they certainly showed through my pajama top. Where those black eyes lingered.

“Dad and Mom left for the night.” My voice was soft, my mouth dry, my throat tight as I tried to distract him from the way he zeroed in on my breasts.

“I know,” he said and smiled slowly, and I knew in that moment this was exactly what he wanted.

“I know.”

Damien’s words echoed in my head.

I licked my lips and turned, dropping the bottle to my side as I headed back into the kitchen. He followed, the sound of heavy footsteps filling the air.

I refused to look anywhere but at my wineglass as I poured myself another when I heard his footsteps coming closer from behind.

“Look at me,” he ordered, and I exhaled and slowly turned around. My newly filled wineglass in hand felt like a shield I could use to keep distance between us. I drank from it greedily as I stared at him.

His massive body filled the suddenly small space that was my parents’ giant kitchen just minutes ago. Covered from head to toe in black, he looked like some kind of ominous angel of death.

Dark hair disheveled around his head and falling over his forehead.

Black jacket covering an equally dark T-shirt that molded to his chest and showed all the definition of his masculinity.

His dark pants weren’t tight, but they were formfitting enough I could see how strong and powerful he was.

And then, to end it, he wore onyx-colored combat boots that pulled together his whole “shit-kicker” appearance.

For long moments, we just stood staring at each other. I felt a weird shift in the air. Everything got hotter, thicker.

My skin was burning from his intense focus on me.

Neither of us said anything as I watched him grab a bottle of my father’s scotch from the cupboard and pour himself a hearty glass. He took a long pull from the glass, his focus on me.

When he set his glass down and braced his hands on either side of himself on the counter, I told myselfnotto look at the way his biceps bulged from that slight movement.

We stood there staring at each other. It was like this game of who would break eye contact first. I wanted to look away so badly, his focus too intense, too explosive, that I felt it wrap around me.

“All alone tonight, Fina?” he all but growled, his head slightly lowered, his eyes trained on me.

I nodded slowly.

“Hmm,” he hummed low in his throat. He said nothing, then the corner of his mouth gradually rose in a smirk. “Come here,” he ordered, hard and measured.

I shook my head.

“I said come here, Fina.” His voice was deeper. Darker. He was commanding and dominant.

I found my feet taking me closer to him of their own accord, only regaining control of myself in time to stop when I was a foot from where Damien was, and I could feel a flush stealing over me.