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  I closed my eyes and exhaled. Maybe some fresh air would do me some good. Maybe I just needed to go sit on the deck and let myself sober up.

  I started walking out of the kitchen, feeling a little dizzy, and braced my hand on the wall to steady myself. Then I found my way toward the back door, gripped it, pulled it open, and a gust of fresh air moved over me. For a moment I just stood there, closing my eyes and letting that coolness move over me. It felt good, calming.

  And for just a second I didn’t feel buzzed at all. But then the sound of a floorboard creaking to my right had me snapping my eyes open and looking to the side. There, leaning against the banister with a bottle of whiskey in his hand, was Matthew.

  He stared right at me, the shadows concealing his face, his big body seeming to dwarf the deck. I contemplated just leaving, heading back inside, maybe going to my room and sleeping this off. Because he’d know I had been drinking. I knew it.

  But a part of me didn’t want to leave. I found myself moving forward and stepping onto the deck. I shut the door behind me and tried to act sober.

  It felt strange being here, seeing him when I was in this condition, when I knew how I felt about him. It felt different in the way that had me more tuned in to my love for him, as if my feelings were more heightened.

  And I didn’t know if I liked that, or if it scared the hell out of me.

  But it looked like I wasn’t smart enough to know better and turn away. It looked like they called alcohol liquid courage for a reason.

  * * *

  Matthew

  As soon as I saw the back door open, I knew it was Ivy. I instantly smelled the sweet, floral fragrance that always seemed to surround her.

  After everyone had eaten cake and talked, and after I’d overheard Ivy and Georgia talking, I went to the convenience store and bought a bottle of whiskey. It had been a combination of my feelings for her, the guilt I felt, but also this possessive and jealous side of me knowing she’d be going to a party.

  I’d been her age once. I knew the shit that went down at those things.

  And when I’d come back to the house with the purchase, I’d gone straight to the deck. I’d kept the porch light off and drank in the darkness.

  For the last hour, I’d been nursing the fuck out of the bottle.

  My feelings for her were growing stronger by the day, and I was afraid of being around her, afraid that I wouldn’t be able to control myself, that my desires would overcome rationalization.

  She stepped out onto the deck and closed the door behind her. I brought the bottle up to my mouth and took a drink, watching her the whole time. I’d been nursing this fucker and I still had half a bottle.

  Drinking wasn’t the way to solve my problems, but it sure was helping numb the pain I felt with the knowledge I could never have her.

  I watched her as she came closer and braced herself against the banister, her hand curling around the edge of it. She seemed a little unsteady on her feet, and as the wind picked up, I could smell the scent of peaches and alcohol clinging to her.

  “Hey,” she said, and I heard the slight slurring of her voice.

  I knitted my brows, but didn’t move closer. I didn’t trust myself to. “Are you okay?” I set the bottle down on the ground beside me and straightened. I didn’t want her seeing me drinking. Although I had a decent buzz going on, so not a whole lot fucking mattered right now.

  But where Ivy was concerned, she was always my priority. She always mattered.

  “I’m fine,” she said.

  But I knew that she’d been drinking. It was the way her eyes looked glossy, the fact that her pupils were dilated. Her cheeks were pink and her gait was unsteady. Not to mention she smelled of alcohol.

  But Stephan didn’t keep alcohol in the house, and I knew from inadvertently eavesdropping that she’d gotten it from Georgia.

  “Georgia gave you liquor?” She didn’t seem surprised I knew, and instead nodded. “What did you get drunk off of?” The protective side of me rose up instantly. I wanted to keep her safe, shelter her. I didn’t want her to experience the nasty aftereffects of what drinking did to people. But then again, I was being a hypocrite because here I was with a half-empty bottle of whiskey on the ground beside me.

  “Peach schnapps,” she said instantly, not lying to me. That pleased me. But I was aggravated that she had been drinking, not because she was underage, not because she’d done it right under our noses. I was frustrated because I wanted to protect her even if that was from herself.

  I didn’t say anything because it wasn’t my place to scold her, to tell her the dangers of drinking, how it brought your inhibitions down and made you vulnerable.

  I didn’t want to tell her any of that because my inhibitions were down right now, and the only thing I wanted to say was that I loved her. The only thing I wanted to do was bring her close to me and show her with my body how much I cared for her.

  Instead, I stood there and stared at her, the porch light off, the glow from the moon making this silvery light wash across her. I should have kept my fucking mouth shut. I should have just gone inside, locked myself in my room, and jerked off to the thought of her, because that’s all I’d ever be able to do where Ivy was concerned.

  But instead I found my possessiveness and jealousy rising up as I thought about her around drunken assholes.

  “I overheard Georgia remind you about a party.” I reached down and picked up the bottle of whiskey, taking a drink from it as I watched her over the rim. “I don’t have to remind you how unsafe those are, how there are little fuckers that will try and get in your pants because they’ll see you’re drinking and that your inhibitions are down.”

  She didn’t respond right away, but I could assume she was confused by my sudden interrogation. I’d always kept my distance when it came to her personal life, and it had been easy as hell ... until she’d turned eighteen ... until I started to fucking want her.

  “You listened to my conversation?” was her reply, her voice soft and sweet, drowsy and laced with the alcohol she’d consumed.

  “I overheard.”

  A thick moment of silence stretched between us.

  “I didn’t tell her I’d go.” She glanced out at the back yard, leaning against the banister so her upper body was almost parallel with the ground. “It’s not really my scene, but you know Georgia,” she said and looked at me then. “When she has her mind set on something...”

  I shouldn’t have stared at her ass. I shouldn’t have pictured myself running my hands over those perfect globes, like the roundness of a peach. Fuck, I wanted to run my tongue between the crease in the center, wanted to spread the cheeks and stare at her perfectly pink pussy.

  My mouth watered. My cock hardened.

  Fuck.

  I shifted on my feet, trying to hide the fact I was getting harder than fucking steel.

  “But maybe she’s right,” Ivy said, glancing at the back yard again. “I’m nineteen and should celebrate like I’m young and not some old lady not wanting to leave the house.” She shrugged, as if talking to herself. Ivy pushed herself up, but I could see she was still unsteady on her feet, and when she went to push away from the banister, she almost lost her balance.

  I was right there next to her a second later, my hand on her hip, steadying her, looking down at her as she glanced up at me with wide eyes. My fingers were curled tightly around her tiny tucked-in waist, my heart pounding, the scent of her getting me drunker than any liquor ever could.

  I knew what I was about to ask was not my business. I was crossing lines as I held on to her, looked into her eyes. I couldn’t help myself. “I bet all the guys at school are after you, aren’t they, Ivy?” My voice was low, the alcohol making it sound even more husky, my arousal thickening it. I was still hard, and I prayed like hell she didn’t glance down and see the way my jeans were tented.

  She didn’t say anything for a moment, but I could see the way her pulse was beating frantically at the base of her
throat. She licked her lips, running her tongue along the bottom swell first and then bringing it up over the top.

  God, I wanted her right then and there, wanted to cup the back of her head and kiss her, make her see that she was mine and nobody else could have her.

  “Nobody’s after me,” she said so low it was almost a whisper.

  She started breathing harder, and I glanced down at her hand, which was wrapped around the banister of the deck, and could see how tightly she held it. The desire poured off of her in waves, or maybe it was just wishful thinking on my part that I had this effect on her, that she wanted me as much as I wanted her.

  “You’re lying,” I said and looked at her lips. My cock dug against the zipper of my jeans, demanding to be free. I bet she was so tight and pink between her legs, and would be so wet for me. “There’s no way they’re not after you, Ivy.” My voice was nothing more than a guttural whisper at this point, the alcohol really moving through my bloodstream now, mixing with my arousal until I couldn’t think straight, let alone stop this.

  “Matthew.” She whispered my name and I knew I was a fucking goner. There was no way I could control myself, not when she looked at me with desire in her eyes. Not when I could practically smell how wet she was between those pretty thighs of hers.

  I knew one thing for certain … if she gave herself to me, stopping this would be really fucking hard.

  6

  Ivy

  God, was this really happening?

  I’d meant to head back inside, maybe to sleep off the schnapps buzz, or maybe to get away from my intense feelings for Matthew. The way he looked at me, spoke to me, screamed possessiveness. Or maybe it was all in my head?

  At least I had thought that until he put his hand on my waist to steady me, until he spoke low about guys at school wanting me. It was then I knew these feelings weren’t just one-sided.

  The alcohol had made my emotions more consuming, more heightened. I could hear my heart beating in my ears, feel it beating against my ribs. My mouth was dry, my throat tight. My nipples were hard, the wetness between my thighs having everything to do with the sight of Matthew.

  His eyes were hooded, his gaze glossy. I could smell the whiskey on his breath and I swore I felt myself getting even drunker. I felt so buzzed, my face hot, my cheeks probably red. I could taste the peach liquor on my tongue, assumed he could smell it on my breath.

  But still he said nothing.

  “You shouldn’t be drinking,” he said.

  No, I really should have, especially given what was happening right now.

  “And neither should you,” I responded, almost challenging him with my tone.

  He placed his hands on the banister on either side of my body and leaned down slightly so he could look in my eyes. I averted my gaze, feeling the weight of his stare, of this moment crashing between us.

  "Look at me, Ivy," he said softly but with a hint of command.

  I couldn’t breathe, didn’t even know what was going on. This wasn’t just Matthew being close to me. This was something much different, something much more.

  Disobeying him wasn’t even an option. I lifted my head and stared into his eyes. They were glossy in appearance, a little red-rimmed from the alcohol. Maybe I shouldn't feel aroused at a time like this, for a man like him, but my emotions were running rampant and I couldn't help myself.

  For long moments we didn’t speak, just stared at each other, the heat moving between us, my arousal becoming suffocating. I felt something shift in me, this boldness claiming me, the likes of which I’d never felt before.

  Do it. Take control. Do what you’ve always wanted to.

  The alcohol spoke loudly within me.

  Without thinking, I moved in those last few inches until my lips pressed against his. For several long seconds neither of us moved, breathed. I didn’t even think I could form a coherent thought in that moment. I expected him to move back, push me away. But instead our lips stayed connected. I felt, heard his breathing increase, but he didn't deepen the kiss as I desperately wanted … needed.

  I let my arousal and emotions lead me and pressed my lips firmer against his. Still he stayed still, didn’t stop this, but also didn’t progress it.

  I parted my mouth and ran my tongue along his bottom lip. The soft groan that came from him gave me the confidence I needed.

  God, this is really happening.

  I opened my mouth even further and he followed suit. Excitement and shock filled me.

  I was kissing Matthew, my uncle Matthew.

  Our tongues touched and my pussy got wet instantly. I was soaked, so incredibly drenched in a matter of seconds that my panties started to feel uncomfortable as they rubbed against my sensitive flesh.

  I felt bold in that moment, in the fact he wasn’t stopping this. I placed my hands on his shoulders and pressed my chest against his. My breasts rubbed seductively against the hard muscles of his pecs, my nipples hardening even further. And then he groaned softly and tilted our heads at the same time, deepening the kiss. I couldn't help the small mewling sounds that came from me.

  As if the noises I’d made had reality snapping back in place, Matthew pulled away. His breathing was erratic and his lips were red from our kiss. We stared at each other for several long moments. What would he do? What would I do?

  He glanced at my lips, his gaze growing heavy-lidded.

  I wanted more than another kiss. I wanted his naked body pressed against mine, wanted his hands on me, stroking, caressing … pushing my thighs apart. I wanted to feel him settling between my legs, the erection I’d felt against my belly just moments before being pushed deep inside of me.

  I reached for him again, but he shook his head and moved away. Hurt and embarrassment slammed into me and I felt my face become hot as I stared at him.

  “Matthew?” I whispered.

  He shook his head and closed his eyes, the expression on his face seeming like he was in pain.

  “I can't, Ivy. This isn't right."

  My throat was so tight and dry, humiliation filling me. “But it feels right.” The words spilled from me.

  He stared at me, looking like he wanted to continue, like he wanted to say more, and here I was, my heart on my sleeve and the world falling away.

  “It doesn’t matter, Ivy.” His voice was so deep, so gruff. “I’m your uncle.”

  “Step-uncle.”

  He shook his head again. “I’ve known you since you were a little girl, and wanting you the way I do, kissing you, touching you…” He moved away another foot and I felt on the verge of crying. “This whole situation is wrong on so many levels." He ran his hand over his jaw. "I’m taking advantage of you.”

  Shock filled me at his words.

  Taking advantage of me?

  Had I heard him right?

  “But I want this. I want you, Matthew.” I licked my lips. “I love you so much.”

  “Shit, Ivy. My sweet girl.” He took a step toward me and I sucked in a breath, thinking this might happen, he might be with me, tell me he loved me.

  “I’ve wanted you since you turned eighteen. But my feelings for you aren’t right. They cross lines.”

  We were still so close, but I was afraid to touch him. He looked down at my mouth and I thought he might kiss me, that he’d give in to these desires. But then this mask covered his face. He’d built that wall around himself, closed the door on this … on us.

  I was so embarrassed. How could I face him after this?

  He kept his head down for a moment and then shifted to look at me.

  “You don’t want me.” I said that as a phrase, not a question.

  “It isn't that I...” He ran his hand over his jaw again before continuing. "It isn't that I don't want this, want you, Ivy." The way he looked at me was intense, but he was holding himself back.

  “I want you too, Matthew,” I said honestly.

  He closed his eyes and made this deep sound in the back of his throat. When he opened them a
gain, I could see there was pain hidden behind the dark depths.

  "I want you, Ivy, so fucking much and that scares the shit out of me.” A moment of silence passed between us as those words hung in the air. “But it’s wrong to desire you. The relationships that would be ruined if I went through with my needs, my desires for you…” He didn’t finish speaking, just shook his head and looked torn. “But despite all of that, knowing it’s not right to touch you, think about you in the way I do, I can't stop the way I feel." He reached out and touched my cheek. “I love you. I’m in love with you.” He smoothed his fingers along the curve of my jaw before running over the outline of my lips.

  He looked at me like a man in love, like a man … lost.

  "I may not be able to stop the way I feel, but I can stop my actions, keep this from going any further than it already has."

  And just like that, just with a few softly spoken words, my world crumbled around me.

  * * *

  Matthew

  I was a fucking shitty person, an asshole brother, and there had to be something wrong with me for not only wanting my step-niece, but for crossing that line and kissing her.

  I’d seen the look on her face when I walked away, when I stopped it all. She’d been so desperate for me, her love reflecting in her expression as she stared up at me with wide eyes, parted lips, and rosy cheeks.

  She’d gotten that way because of me, because of how I make her feel.

  And all I’d wanted to do was pull her in close again and devour her mouth, slide my tongue into the warm, sweet recesses between her lips, and make her see that she was only mine. I didn’t want her with anyone else, even if being with her wasn’t something that I could ever have. I was a selfish bastard, and could see myself beating some asshole to the ground for even looking in her direction.

  I exhaled and stopped in the middle of my room, breathing out roughly again as I lifted my hand and ran it over the back of my head. Shit, I’d have to jerk off in the shower, relieve this massive hard-on I was sporting because the fucker just wouldn’t go down. Then again, it was as if it had a mind of its own, as if he knew the ultimate pleasure was just in the next room and that’s the only thing that could sate the bastard.