Page 47 of Forbidden Fruit
I knew this question was coming eventually, but it still takes me a second to respond. My dad was everything to me, my hero, and losing him… well, it’s a scar that never fully healed.
I shift in my seat, clearing my throat. “My dad was a heavyweight boxing champion, one of the greatest. He’d just won a big fight that night, and we came home to celebrate like always. He was laughing, telling one of his stories at the dinner table, then he froze. His body tensed, and he started seizing right there in front of us. We called for help, but by the time the paramedics arrived, it was too late. They said it was from all the head trauma, years of taking hits in the ring. He gave everything to the sport he loved, but it cost him his life in the end.”
The weight of the memory presses down, and I feel asting in my eyes. I haven’t cried over this in years, haven’t allowed myself to, but sitting here with her, it’s like the floodgates are on the verge of breaking. I grit my teeth, forcing it down. Not now.
“Calvin…” Her voice is full of understanding. She reaches out and places her hand over mine and squeezes it gently. “I’m so sorry,” she murmurs. “I can’t imagine what that was like for you… for your family.”
“Thank you.” I pat her hand quickly before I do something stupid like kiss it when this is just supposed to be physical and a one-night thing.
“Finish eating while I draw you a bath. Then meet me in my bathroom,” I instruct her as I stand.
“Okay,” she whispers, and I want to steal a kiss, but I refrain and walk away. I head to the bathroom, filling the tub with warm water and a few handfuls of bubbles, making sure it’s perfect.
I should feel guilty. Hell, I promised Abigail I wouldn’t lay a finger on her little sister. But I don’t.
Not with Blair still tasting like sin on my tongue, her scent on my skin, and her moans echoing in my head like a fucking addiction I can’t kick.
The more I try to tell myself that this was just a one-time thing to get her out of my system, the more I want her again. I haven’t had my fill, not even close.
Yeah, I’m a bastard for it. But she’s too perfect for me to walk away.
A few minutes later, Blair steps inside, her bare feet silent against the tile. She pauses in the doorway, fingers tugging at the hem of the oversized shirt she threw on,my shirt.
She’s quiet. Her posture is small, drawn in, like she’s trying to disappear. Shoulders hunched, head bowed, eyesfixed on the floor. Even without looking at me, I can see it written all over her face: shame, guilt, uncertainty.
She’s replaying it. What we just did. But I won’t let her spiral.
“Take it off,” I say, my voice low and even. Not a suggestion. A command.
Her head jerks up slightly. “What?”
“The shirt. Off. Now.”
Her brows pull together, her lips part like she’s about to argue, but I don’t give her the chance.
“You need a bath,” I say. “We can think about everything else tomorrow.”
She stares at me for a moment, then sighs like the air just left her lungs. She’s still holding on to all that weight, but she obeys. Quietly. Slowly. She pulls the fabric over her head and drops it to the floor.
I don’t move. I don’t speak. I just… watch.
My eyes drag over her bare skin, her soft, perfect breasts, the gentle curve of her waist, the delicate ink etched into her thigh like a secret.
Fuck me, she’s built like a wet dream in the flesh.
She steps into the bath, sinking into the warmth with a low sigh, her body slipping beneath the foam. She’s still tense, still holding something back, but I’m going to take care of that too.
I pull down my sweats and step out of them. My dick swings heavily between my thighs as I move toward the tub.
I barely make it in before Blair gasps, then absolutely loses it.
Her hands fly up to cover her mouth, but her laughter bubbles through anyway, full and chaotic and real.
“No. No, no, no, no,” she stammers between peals oflaughter. “There’s no way that thing was just inside me. No way. No.”
Her laugh is so pure it actually makes me grin. She’s not embarrassed anymore, just in shock. I step into the bath and sit down across from her, pulling her onto my lap like she weighs nothing.
She straddles me, still laughing, her body wet and warm against mine.
