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Focusing on the shining espresso maker in front of me, I tried to act normal. I’d worked one of these for three months at a summer job, churning out dozens of lattes and mochas, but as I peered at the knobs and buttons, it felt like I’d never seen one before.
Footsteps sounded close to me. I felt the warmth of Will’s body next to mine.
“Like this.” He filled the handled filter with coffee grounds, tamped them down, and locked the filter into the machine.
“Thanks,” I murmured. I was very aware of how short my nightshirt was, inches below the hem of my underwear. The thin material clung to my body.
“I lost you last night.” Will flipped a switch, setting a metal pitcher underneath the fragrant drip. When he crossed the wide kitchen to get milk, his arm brushed mine. I crossed my legs. The steam wand buzzed, frothing the milk. “I was going to introduce you to everybody.”
“It’s really okay.”
“Did you go hide in the trees again?”
“More or less.” I ran a finger around the rim of my coffee cup. “Your family has nice trees.”
“Hm.” Will took the mug out of my hand and tipped the pitchers over it, pouring in espresso and milk. He watched as I sipped, foam coating my upper lip. When my tongue flicked out to lick it off, I’d never felt so self-conscious.
“Taste good?” he asked.
Of course it tasted good. Everything in this house was delicious. I nodded and sipped again, inhaling the burnt fragrance. “Really good.”
“I’m glad.” A hand settled on my waist.
“Will—“
“Just enjoy it.” He nodded toward the coffee, but his hand slid over my stomach, fingers fanning out. My insides turned over. Heat spread from his palm to my skin, burning through thin cotton. Lips met my neck from behind.
“You’re not drunk,” I whispered, panicking. A nervous throb tightened my body. I managed to let go of the coffee cup, setting it down on the counter. “You don’t have an excuse.”
“I don’t need one.” His voice was low. Both hands caressed my stomach, moving up to cup my breasts through the soft nightshirt.
“You can’t do that,” I hissed.
“Sure I can.” He squeezed the small mounds lightly. Thumbs rubbed over my nipples. “I’m doing it right now.”
When I wriggled, a strong body pressed me against the counter, holding me firmly in place. I smelled cologne, light and crisp (and my head swam).
“You shouldn’t touch me that way.”
“Oh, really?” He kissed my neck. I shuddered, need flaming outward from his mouth.
During college, in the dark of night when I couldn’t sleep, when I felt lonely and restless and hot with ambition, burning to get out into a world that didn’t feel quite real beyond my room, I’d rubbed between my legs and thought of my cousin.
I’d clutched the note he’d given me. You look sexy when you run.
I’d remembered how he’d betrayed me with that article.
I’d felt confused and a little crazy when I came. And aroused, so very aroused.
“Will, stop,” I said more strongly. “We can’t.” My nipples hardened instantly under his thumbs.
“I don’t want to stop.” Fingers tickled the sensitive underside of one breast. More fingers pinched my other nipple. A gasp left my mouth. “I don’t think you want me to either.”
I moaned, trying to step back, but I was trapped against the counter.
“Is this about that graduation party?” I whispered. “When we were stupid teenagers? I figured you forgot. It was so long ago.”
Will laughed softly, his breath warm on my neck. “I didn’t forget. There’s a lot that should have happened that night, sweet cousin. A lot to make up for.”
