Chapter 1 Book 1
CHAPTER 1. THE UNEXPECTED PACKAGE
LIAM'S POV
I am a happily married man. I love my wife. I love my life. I am a man of discipline, of routine, of moral fortitude.
At least, that is what I keep telling myself. That is the mantra I have been repeating in my head for the last hour as I pace the living room floor, waiting for the doorbell to ring. My step-mother called me a week ago. "Maya is coming back from boarding school," she said. "She wants to spend the summer in the city before college. Can she stay with you and Elena?"
Of course, I said yes. Maya. My little step-sister. The last time I saw her, she was fifteen—a scrawny, awkward kid with braces and knobby knees who spent all her time reading fantasy novels. I haven't seen her in three years. It’s just a family favor. It’s just for the summer.
Ding-Dong.
The doorbell echoes through the house, shattering the silence.
"Liam! Can you get that?" Elena calls from the kitchen, where she’s busy preparing a 'Welcome Home' dinner. "My hands are covered in flour!"
"Yeah. Yeah, I got it," I yell back.
I straighten my shirt, take a deep breath to compose myself, and walk to the front door. I expect to see a teenager. I expect to see the kid I remember.
I unlock the door and swing it open.
Holy. Fucking. Shit.
My breath catches in my throat, a sharp, painful gasp that feels like I’ve been punched in the gut. My brain, usually so organized and logical, instantly dissolves into absolute shambles. The world tilts on its axis.
The girl standing on my porch is not a child. She is not scrawny. She is... oh my God. Goodness me. She is a goddess.
Maya is standing there, bathed in the golden afternoon sunlight, a vision of absolute, destructive beauty. She has filled out. Oh God, has she filled out. She is wearing a pair of denim shorts—if you can even call them that—that are so short the pockets hang out the bottom, clinging desperately to hips that have widened into a perfect, dangerous curve. And her top... it’s a tiny, white cropped tank top that leaves her midriff completely bare.
But it’s not the midriff that has my eyes bulging out of my skull. It’s her chest. She is not wearing a bra. I can tell instantly. Her breasts are full, round, and sitting high and perky on her chest, pressing aggressively against the thin white cotton. And because there is a slight breeze, her nipples are hard. Two distinct, diamond-cutter peaks poking through the fabric, staring right at me.
I am paralyzed. I am a married man, twenty-five years old, and I am staring at my eighteen-year-old step-sister’s nipples like a starving dog staring at a steak.
"Liam?"
Her voice snaps me out of my trance. It’s not the squeaky voice I remember. It’s lower. Husky. Sultry.
She smiles, and it’s a slow, deliberate curling of her pink lips. She knows. She sees me looking. She sees my eyes glued to her chest, and instead of crossing her arms or acting shy, she throws her shoulders back, thrusting her breasts out even further.
"Hi, big brother," she purrs. "Miss me?"
"I... uh... Maya?" I stammer, my voice sounding like I’ve swallowed gravel. My heart is hammering a frantic rhythm against my ribs. Thump. Thump. Thump.
She laughs, a sound like wind chimes, and drops her suitcases. Before I can react, she launches herself at me.
"I missed you so much!" she cries out.
She wraps her arms around my neck and jumps, wrapping her bare legs around my waist. The contact is electric. It’s searing. Her inner thighs, smooth and warm, clamp around my hips. Her breasts are pressed flat against my chest, soft and heavy. Her scent—vanilla and something floral and dangerously sweet—fills my nose, drowning out my rationality.
I freeze, my hands hovering in the air, terrified to touch her.
"Maya... hey... you're... you're heavy," I choke out, trying to make a joke, trying to regain control.
She pulls back slightly, just enough to look me in the eyes, but she doesn't let go. Her face is inches from mine. Her eyes are wide, dark, and filled with a terrifying intensity.
"I'm not a little girl anymore, Liam," she whispers, her breath hot on my chin. She grinds her hips slightly against mine—just a fraction of an inch, but enough for me to feel the heat of her core through her denim shorts.
My dick twitched. I swear to God, it twitched. A jolt of lust shoots straight to my groin, and I feel the blood rushing south, betraying me instantly.
Oh my God. I am sick. I am a pervert. Get her off you.
"Liam! Is that her?" Elena’s voice floats from the kitchen.
The sound of my wife’s voice is like a bucket of ice water. I panic. I quickly disentangle Maya’s legs from my waist and set her down on the porch, stumbling back a step.
"Yeah! Yeah, she's here!" I yell back, my voice cracking.
Maya lands on her feet, smoothing down her tiny shorts. She looks at me, sees the panic in my eyes, sees the way I’m subtly adjusting my pants to hide the semi-erection that is already threatening to ruin my life, and she smirks.
"You look good, Liam," she says softly, her eyes raking over my body. "Really good. Marriage suits you."
"You... you grew up," I manage to say, wiping sweat from my forehead.
"I did," she agrees, popping a piece of gum into her mouth. "Wait until you see how much."
Elena comes bustling into the hallway, wiping her hands on an apron. "Maya! Oh my goodness, look at you!"
Elena hugs her—a normal, appropriate hug. I stand there, watching them. My wife, beautiful and sweet and safe. And my step-sister, a walking, breathing hand grenade of sex appeal.
"Hi, Elena," Maya says, putting on a sweet, innocent voice that is completely different from the one she used on me. "Thank you so much for letting me stay."
"Of course! We're family!" Elena beams. "Liam, be a dear and take her bags up to the guest room. I have to check the roast."
Elena disappears back into the kitchen.
I am left alone with Maya again. She looks at the two heavy suitcases, then at me. She bites her lower lip, her eyes dancing with mischief.
"They're heavy," she says. "But you look strong enough."
I don't say anything. I can't. My brain is in shambles. I grab the handles of the suitcases, my muscles straining as I lift them. I turn and head up the stairs, desperate to get away from her scrutiny.
But she follows me. Closely.
I can feel her eyes on my back. I can feel her staring at my ass as I climb the stairs.
We reach the guest room—the room right next to mine and Elena’s. I walk in and drop the bags by the closet, turning around to leave immediately. I need air. I need to get away from her.
But she’s standing in the doorway, blocking my exit.
She walks into the room, closing the door behind her until it’s just a crack open. The air in the room instantly becomes thick, suffocating.
"It's hot in here," she sighs.
She reaches down and grabs the hem of her crop top.
"Maya, don't—" I start to say, panic seizing my throat.
She lifts it. Just a little. She uses it to fan herself. But as she lifts it, the fabric rises up, exposing the smooth, tan skin of her stomach. And then, higher. I see the curve of her underboob. I see the shadow of her nipples, hard and begging for attention.
I can't look away. I am staring. I am devouring her with my eyes, and I hate myself for it.
She catches me looking. She stops fanning, holding the shirt up, exposing the underside of her breasts to me.
"Like what you see, big brother?" she whispers.
"I... I have to go help Elena," I choke out.
I push past her, my arm brushing against her bare shoulder. The contact burns like fire. I practically run out of the room, fleeing down the hallway like a coward.
I rush into the bathroom and lock the door, leaning back against the wood, my chest heaving. I look at myself in the mirror. My face is flushed. My pupils are dilated. My dick is throbbing against the zipper of my jeans.
Oh my God. This is going to be a long summer.
I splash cold water on my face, trying to wash away the image of her nipples, the feeling of her legs around my waist. But it’s no use. The addiction has already started. I can feel it in my blood. A dark, twisted hunger that I know, deep down, is going to destroy me.
And the terrifying part is... she knows it too.
