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“They were loved,” was always her response. “Or they need love.”
But I read the copy she gave me and the next time I saw her at my parents’, we wound up forgetting everyone at the dinner table and spent the entire night talking.
It just seemed to snowball from there. I started looking for used bookshops in every city I went to and picked up dozens of books I thought she might like — intentionally flipping through the pages for the most written on. I took pictures of different parts of different cities that were based on books we’d read and would send them to her, thrilled when she would tell me how much she loved them and had them printed to tuck into the proper books. During family trips, I found myself going with her to visit libraries and bookstores, spending hours together in the dusty stacks and leaving with a pile of books that we would comb over at the nearest cafe.
When things fell apart with Liya, Kami was the one I went to. She was waiting for me at our favorite cafe with a coffee, a muffin, and two copies ofThe Count of Monte Cristo.It seemed to have become our private weekend thing whenever one of us was feeling our worst. Neither of us said a word as we sat and read our copies and drank our drinks.
She was far too young for me, I knew that, but I fell in love with her mind before anything else. I fell for her intelligence and thirst for everything. She was my friend. The only person who seemed to understand me the most. I didn’t fall for her as a woman until much later.
It was Halloween, to be precise.
That was my marker, the timeline in my head for when I found myself realizing truly and fully that Kami was a woman. I knew she was, of course, but it seemed to click in that moment in a way that reverberated through to my very core. It hit me with a ton of bricks, momentarily crippling my whole world. It left me so shaken, I couldn’t breathe.
The girls were headed to a party at the Titan, a club we owned. Lavena, Sasha, and Kas were crowded in the corridor of the apartment, fussing, and arguing. I stood leaning against the doorframe leading into the sitting room, waiting to leave already. Unlike them, I had business that required my attention and I wanted to get back before the roads were packed with drunk idiots in stupid costumes.
My sister was a cop, ironically enough, in a leather halter, shorts that were definitely too short, and boots that went to her thighs. A utility belt hung around her waist, crammed with furry cuffs and an assortment of other things I didn’t care about. A blue cop hat sat on her auburn bob, finishing the ensemble.
Kas was a ninja or a mummy. The entire getup consisted of white bandages knotted across strategic places. She was one loose thread away from being naked.
“What are you?” I asked Sasha, eyeballing her blue jeans, tight, black tank top and long, brown trench coat.
“A reporter.”
“Seriously over dressed for a club,” Lavena snapped at the same time. “How are you going to dance in that? You are not getting laid.”
Sasha rolled her eyes. “I didn’t have anything else, okay? I was busy.”
“Then say so! Jesus, I have like a million things.”
Lavena grabbed her arm and hauled her in the direction of her bedroom. Kas pursed her lips, gave me an amused eyeroll, and followed the pair.
I was still standing there, checking my phone, making sure Ky, the club’s manager hadn’t left. I couldn’t have the little rat leave until I’d had a few words with him. Turns out, he’d been running an illegal gambling hall in the backroom and cutting us out of the profits. That couldn’t slide. He needed to be dealt with, but if my sister continued to take forever, he was going to leave, and I would have to spend more time tracking him down.
I was about to yell for them to hurry up when the front door clicked open, and the final member of the posse slipped in.
The kick in the balls was nothing to the sharp and devastating punch in the sternum.
Kami with her long, dark hair brushed down around her shoulders in soft, shiny waves met my gaze and smiled, and holy fuck.
Buttery leather encased every soft, satin inch of her, yet not enough of her. The dress was too short, too low, too open, too fucking tempting. It barely hit the top of her long, supple thighs in a loose flare. That was the only loose part. The top was a corset that cupped her gorgeous breasts like two lover’s hands and pushed them up as if in invitation. A neat little bow knotted the lace down the center and hung between those glorious mounds, teasing me to give one fucking tug. The whole thing was staying up by the sheer will of God.
“Fuck…” I heard myself groan against my will.
Kami blushed and dropped her gaze. Her tiny hands brushed at the useless scrap of fabric hanging around her hips. “Do you like it?”
No.
I fucking hated it.
I had never hated anything more in my life.
I had never wanted to rip something off someone so badly that my hands shook.
“What are you supposed to be?” I snapped a bit harsher than I intended.
I prayed she’d say your wildest fantasies or your new toy, but her hand jumped up to the tiny, black ears poking out through her hair.
“A kitten,” she replied because God hated me.
