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Rebel(10)

By:Kim Linwood



Gavin looks at me. “So...” He draws it out. “How about your mom’s bed? If we’re quick, she’ll never know.” He pats me on the ass.

Oh, for—

I’m only one poor decision away from picking up the sauce boat and flinging it at his head. “Not in my room, not in Mom’s bed, not ever. Got it?” I stick my tongue out at him again. “Prick.”

“Oh real mature there, Sis.” He rubs it in, putting pressure on the word to make sure I hear him.

I whirl on him, almost dropping the sauce boat and potatoes in the process. “I already told you, don’t you dare call me that. I’m not your fucking sis, and you’re not my freaking bro.” I’m done. There was a breaking point, and I hit it. “I’d rather you didn’t talk to me at all, to be honest.” With a snarl, I put him behind me and stride into the kitchen.

He shows up a moment or two later, balancing a scarily tall stack of plates, silverware and a couple of glasses. I rush over to grab the top ones. “Jesus, you don’t have to carry all of them at once. What if they’d fallen?”

“I would’ve paid for new ones?” He shrugs after putting the stuff down on the kitchen table.

Of course. Throw money at it. “Believe it or not, it’s not that easy. They haven’t made that set in ages. I wouldn't have to kill you. Mom would.”

“Alright, alright. Fuck. How was I supposed to know they were family heirlooms?”

They aren’t. They’re the set Mom and Dad bought when they were first married, but I’m not about to tell him that. I start putting stuff in the sink, figuring Mom and Herbert want some time alone. I can always wash some of the pieces that don't go in the dishwasher. Anything to keep busy.

“Thanks, you can leave now.”

I sense Gavin moving just a split second before his hands come down on either side of me and grip the edge of the sink. He moves close, until his front’s pressing against my back.

“I could do you over the sink. They’re snuggled up in the living room. They’ll never know.” His breath is hot against my ear, and his bulge presses into the small of my back.

“Are you deaf? What part of ‘I don’t want anything to do with you’ and leave didn’t you understand?” I whirl around, but it only presses my breasts into him instead, and that doesn't help. It’s hard to think when he’s so close. He didn’t button his shirt all the way up after trying to clean off the wine stains, and I can see a bit of ink peeking out. The image of his naked chest is burned into my brain even though I wish I could scrub it out.

“I heard your words.” He leans in like he’s going to kiss me. My breath speeds up and my heart starts pounding. Even if my mind thinks he’s despicable, my body knows differently. He stops short of my mouth. “I just don’t think you meant them. Admit you want me. Just a little?” His teasing voice both excites and infuriates me.

I’m just about to say something when his hand comes to my hip, sliding slowly up along my waist, the heat of him almost unbearable. For a second I close my eyes, distracted by his touch, before I force them back open. I check the doorway, expecting Mom and my stepfather-to-be staring at us in shock. There’s no one there, but even just the thought gets me moving. I dodge to the side to get away from his touch, clutching the kitchen counter behind me. “Leave me alone. I should never have gone with you in the first place, and it sure as hell didn’t become any more appropriate now.”

“Fine, suit yourself.” He shrugs, opens the cabinet under the sink and finds the garbage can. Beginning to clear the plates into it, he glances up at me. “I’ll rinse, and you can load the dishwasher.”

I blink, caught off guard by his change of gears. He’s already rinsing and looks at me, daring me to make a scene about nothing. When I come closer, it’s cautiously, like a skittish animal approaching a wolf. “Alright.” I open the dishwasher without taking my eyes off him. “But no funny stuff. I mean it.”

“Of course.” He smirks, making me want to wipe it right off him. “Here.” He hands me the first rinsed plate. I keep waiting for the other shoe to drop, but it’s not long before we’re done, and I’m almost convinced we’re past it. I close the dishwasher and turn towards the living room.

I’m just about there, when he whips a towel and catches me right on the ass. “Good work, Sis.”

Of course he gets me just as I’m entering the living room, so all I can do is hiss out of the corner of my mouth, “I’m not your sis.” He laughs and pats me on the shoulder like we’re buddies and I just said something funny.

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