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He broke our kiss to drag his lips down my neck while his hand fondled my breast and played with my nipple. I gasped his name, grinding my hips against him. I couldn't wait to feel the full length of him moving inside me.
His voice was ragged and desperate. "God, Alyssa. I want you."
"Please," I begged, pulling his head up to kiss him again. "Please, Logan."
He dropped his hand from my breast and pulled away from me, shaking his head. He looked conflicted and angry.
"I-I can't. We can't. It's not right, Alyssa. You're my sister."
Stepsister. It's what I wanted to say but it was pointless. Logan had already climbed out of the pool, and my hand was covering my mouth so he couldn't hear me crying as he walked away.
6: Logan
Morons made the same mistake twice.
Complete idiots made the same mistake twice and made it worse.
I don't know. I'd been labelled a genius from family, friends and professional folk but right now I felt like the biggest idiot on the planet.
"…require using a more lightweight database engine, but there is concern about backwards compatibility for the older models. Thoughts, Mr. Ashbury?"
The sound of my name forced me back to the present. I blinked stupidly at the roomful of faces turned in my direction. Currently, I was in a meeting with some of my software designers and engineers, but I'd lost track of the topic immediately after I'd sat down in my seat. My physical presence hadn't been necessary. I usually attended these things via a VoIP service but I'd wanted an excuse to get out of the house. I found many excuses to not be around when Alyssa was home ever since what we did a few days ago. Half because I felt guilty and ashamed for doing it and the other half because I knew I'd be tempted to do it again.
I mean, she did seem to be pretty into it that night. This thought dawned on me the very next day and had stayed with me up until now. It was the only consolation that eased my conscience. Better yet, she hadn't been drunk—hadn't seemed so, at least. Her participation had not only been of her own free will but overly enthusiastic, too. No hesitation. No sounds of complaint, whatsoever, save for when she'd actually begged me to continue.
Anyway, I had work to do and dwelling on the whys of Alyssa's behaviour felt like a dangerous exercise in futility. It would only encourage me and I did not need encouraging. I apologized to my employees for my brief lapse of attention and made a point of staying completely focussed when I was refreshed on the matter at hand. I let work bury me and drown out any random thoughts about Alyssa like what if I'd not stopped kissing her that night? Did she feel the same way about me as I did about her? This worked great and I hardly ever saw her. I suspected she avoided me too. Either way, I was relieved when her departure date drew closer. One more day, I thought. I just had to survive one more day and then everything would be back to normal. Alyssa would be miles away from me, no longer around to tempt me or feed the pesky hope that there could be something more between us.
***
"Mr. Ashbury, remember you have a dinner meeting with Mr. Dufort tonight at 9 at La Bonne Nuit."
I looked up from my laptop at my receptionist, Margeaux. "Damn, I forgot about that. Can't you reschedule?"
She looked confused. "No, because you specifically—"
"Yeah, yeah. I remember now. Big new French contract and Greg's on vacation so he can't take this one." I sighed. "Fine."
"You will need a translator. Mr. Dufort does not speak English," she continued, and then her tone got suggestive as she ostentatiously flipped her hair over her shoulder. "As you are aware, I am French, Mr. Ashbury. I can be your translator."
I leaned back in my chair and gazed at her. I'd slept with Margeaux once at a Christmas party in one of my various moments of absolute drunkenness and stupidity. I'd regretted it ever since. Sleeping with a co-worker was bad enough, but sleeping with an employee? Incredibly dumb especially where lawsuits were concerned. She often hinted at an encore, and I always pretended ignorance when she did. At least that was one mistake I had the good sense not to make again.
"Thank you, Margeaux, but that's fine. We've a professional translator on payroll already," I said evenly.
Margeaux's red lips curved in a triumphant smile. "She is sick with the flu."
"I see," I said. "Well, I'll think of something."
"Mr. Ashbury—"
I raised my hand to cut her off. "Again, thank you, Margeaux, but that will be all. I would like to get back to work now.
She pouted and I ignored it by pretending renewed interest in my laptop screen. When she'd left the room, I sighed in relief. I should have fired her a long time ago, but she was an excellent receptionist. It was not a wise practice to fire good employees just because their presence reminded one of their past misdeeds.
Nevertheless, I had a slight problem on my hands. I was to meet with a French client to conduct business negotiations despite the fact that neither of us would be able to understand each other. And even though Dufort would likely bring his own translator, as with lawyers, it was a good idea for me to have one too. Unfortunately, aside from Pam, the company's foreign affairs director and known polyglot, I only knew of two others who were likely translator candidates: Margeaux and Alyssa. Neither of which I wanted to interact with for too long.
Still, a choice had to be made, and of the two, I preferred Alyssa by far. Despite my plans to avoid Alyssa due to past…err…events…I'd much prefer her company than that of the persistent Margeaux. Deciding to take Alyssa to the dinner felt right somehow, and the more I considered it, the better I felt. I had Margeaux order and deliver some dinner clothes to my condo in her size, and I could tell by her self-satisfied smile that she thought they were for her. Nope, they weren't. She and Alyssa looked about the same size. It was the best I could do short of calling Alyssa and asking her to go shop for the clothes herself.
And I couldn't do that. She'd say no. Just as I knew she was going to say no when I asked her to the dinner with me tonight.
But I would change her mind. I was sure of it.
7: Alyssa
"No, and you can't change my mind. I'm pretty sure of that, you ass."
I scowled at Logan, outraged by his audacity. After avoiding me for days, how could he even think I'd want to help him? He couldn't possibly think I'd forget how he'd made my hope soar before subsequently shooting it out of the sky with a sniper gun?
Fool me once, shame on you. Fool me twice shame on me. Fool me a gazillion times? Who was left to blame? All I knew was that I wouldn't go down that stupid path again. Initially, I'd been heartbroken by how callously he could throw me aside, but I'd grown to accept it. It was Logan's way after all. When he couldn't deal, he ignored or behaved horribly. And he was right. We couldn't do what we'd both clearly yearned to do that night. We were siblings. It didn't matter that we weren't blood related. He was my brother and I was his sister. Whatever feelings we had for each other were inappropriate and ought to die a swift death.
