Whiplash: A Sports Romance (42 page)

She points at the television. “Finally, some quality programming.”

Roxie Roberts looks back at me from the old, glass screen. Her blonde hair tumbles in the wind as waves crash below her feet, submerging her up to her knees. It’s the ending of the first
Night Trials
movie. Tears roll down her dirt-covered cheeks and she waves her arms up and down. The rescue boat sits on the horizon. Music swells. She’s finally escaped… until
Part 2
, of course.

I cross my arms and lean against the wall. “Is that you?”

“Yes, it’s
me
,” she laughs. “How have you
never
seen this before?!”

I shrug.

She peeks at me from the corners of her eyes. “You know, you’re pretty boring for a dead guy.
Ooo
— They’re showing it again. Sit down. The beginning is the best part.”

I stay on the wall. “I thought actors
hated
watching themselves on screen.”

“Only when I’m crying,” she says. “Or laughing. Or kissing somebody. I usually turn away then.”

“Why?”

She drops the remote by her side. “No one likes looking into the mirror when they’re actually feeling something.”

“But it’s not real,” I point out.

“It’s my job to make it
look
real, so it
feels
real.”

My eyes fall on the screen again. There she is. Little Roxie Roberts in the role that catapulted her to major stardom. I’ve seen this so many times, I could say the lines out loud. I’ve cried with her and laughed with her but it wasn’t real. Not like now. Now, she is
real
. She speaks and her voice vibrates my ears without passing through a set of speakers first. She’s so close, I could reach out and touch her warm, apple-scented skin. My fingers tremble. My face explodes with heat. My cock twitches in my slacks.

“Fuck it.”

I push off the wall and walk around the bed to her. She watches with suspicious eyes and they grow in surprise as I lower myself to the bed and balance over her.

“Fox, what—”

I kiss her. I fucking kiss her. It’s short, only a few seconds, but feels a like sublime hour of bliss. Blood rushes south, locking me in place above her. I open my eyes, prepared for the inevitable backlash.
Get away from me, you creep. Don’t touch me. Who the hell do you think you are?

Dani stares at me but she doesn’t move. There’s only an inch of air between us. Her breath trembles through her lips to touch mine, smelling like warm cider. My mouth waters for more of her.

I touch her face, drawn to her like a magnet. Again, she doesn’t move. Heat radiates off her skin. I slide my thumb across her bottom lip. It feels so soft and smooth beneath my fingers, just like it did five years ago. I give her one more second, one last chance to push me away, before finally leaning in and kissing her again.

Her body feels tense and stiff but I can’t make myself stop tasting her. I take a much-needed breath, feeling the cold air wash through my body but it does little to chill my racing heart. She trembles beneath me. I can’t tell if it’s fear or pleasure driving her. I look into her eyes and I see both staring back at me.

Dani’s hands rise to my hips, hovering for a moment before she builds the courage to touch me. It’s like fireworks shooting up my back; the gentle pressure of her fingertips igniting the nerves beneath my skin.

She licks her lips and kisses me back. Her lips press against mine, pursing and quivering.

I ease myself between her legs and her knees settle against my sides.

Fuck. This is really happening.

I’ve fantasized a thousand times about this moment. Every night for
years
, I’ve lied in bed with closed eyes and this is what I saw. I’d kiss every inch of her alabaster skin. I’d taste her long enough to quench my thirst for her. I’d fuck her until she turned numb.

Tonight, I’m finally going to do it.

She leans back, her breath heavy and wild, as I attack her neck and collar bone. I keep my hands moving, practically twitching around her entire body with minds of their own. I can’t help it. It’s Roxie
fucking
Roberts for god’s sake — beautiful, perfect
Dani
.

I navigate down her shirt, flicking the buttons free, and slip my hands beneath it. Her skin feels like warm milk and tastes just as good. I cup her breast with one hand and feel her nipple swell between my fingers as she shudders beneath my touch. Pleasure radiates down my spine, fueling the blood in my cock. It rages for her, begs for her. Years of bedding look-a-likes have come to this moment. Years of imagining her face instead of theirs — of her lips wrapped around my the tip of my dick instead of theirs.

I slip a hand beneath her shorts and her warmth tickles my fingertips.

“Fox, slow down.”

I lick between her breasts, barely hearing her words, as I push my hand deeper between her thighs.

She goes tense in my arms.
“Slow down.”

I pause. Her pupils twitch with a deep hesitation that I haven’t seen in a woman’s eyes in quite some time. “Dani, are you a…?”

She looks down and wets her throat. “Yes…”

“That’s
impossible.
” I push up on my arms. “How are you still a virgin?”

She gives an awkward chuckle. “My very overprotective agent schedules my time and he doesn’t exactly leave room for personal relationships with men.”

Reality crushes me. She’s too vulnerable — too fragile for this. For me.

I’m taking advantage of Roxie
fucking
Roberts.

What the hell am I doing?

I hang my head and slide away from her.

“Wait— Fox.” She reaches for me. “You don’t have to stop. Does this really bother you?”

“No, it’s not that. It’s just…” I linger on the bed’s edge, unable to believe my own reaction. “I don’t think I can be gentle with you, Dani.”

“Oh.” She grips her shirt and holds it closed. “I mean, I guess you don’t have to be…”

My heart stops pumping blood towards my disappointed cock. “I don’t want to hurt you. I’ve wanted you for so long, I… I don’t want to do things that you can’t handle.”

“I
can
handle it.” Her eyes flash with anger.

Here she is. My perfect stepsister.

Nubile, untouched Dani lying in front of me asking me to touch her in ways no man ever has.

But I can’t do it.

I can’t corrupt America’s sweetheart.

Chapter 10

Dani

Fox shakes his head. “Dani, don’t say that because you think it’s what I want to hear.”

My jaw drops. Every bit of pleasure melts off my body, replaced by seething annoyance. “I can handle it, Fox.” I sit up and throw my feet on the floor.
“God
, when are people going to stop treating me like some dainty fucking flower?!”

“Dani—” He stands up and presses his shirt down. “You should get some sleep.”

“Are you serious right now?” I don’t mean to raise my voice but the emotion in me is far too intense.

Fox. My ridiculously hot stepbrother. Even when he was dead and I hated him for disappearing, part of me still wanted him. Years of heartache brought back again in one moment of rejection.

“I’m sorry,” he whispers. “It’s not
right
.”

“
This
isn’t right? Being a member of a secret murder club is morally okay but
fucking me
is out of the question?”

He hangs his head and runs his fingers through his hair. “When you say it like that, it sounds dumb, I know, but—”

“You’re damn right it sounds
dumb
.” I grab my shirt and flick the buttons closed. “I can’t believe this…”

“Dani, calm down. This was just a mistake. It’s okay—”

“No, this is
not
okay, Fox.” I stand up and anger rattles my knees. “You told me you don’t see me like they do, but — surprise, surprise — yes, you fucking do.”

“That’s not true,” he claims. “I meant every word I said about that. We just need to take a minute and think about this first—”

“I’ve thought enough about it, Fox. I want to do this.”

“You shouldn’t rush something that should be special for you.”

“You
are
special to me.” I throw up my hands. “And please don’t give me that cartoon princess view of sex. I know how the real world works. I’m not twelve-years-old.”

“I know you’re not.” His face hangs low like his words taste like acid.

“Then what’s the problem? You were revved up and ready to go ninety seconds ago. What the hell changed so quickly that made it wrong for you to touch me?”

“Nothing changed. I care about you, Dani.”

“And I care about you. That’s how this is supposed to work, isn’t it? Boy likes girl. Girl likes boy.”

“It’s more complicated than that and you know it.”

“Why? Because our parents are married? Who fucking cares?”

He steps forward, bridging the gap between us with two fast strides. “Because you’re Roxie
fucking
Roberts, Dani. Every move you make is on display. You’re nitpicked and judged for everything you do — that includes
this.
And yes, our parents are married. That immediately makes this bad for you.
I
am bad for you. I don’t belong in your world. I never have. It’s why I left in the first place.”

Tears sting my throat. “Then why the hell did you even come back?”

“Because I’d rather live in a world with you in it than suffer the alternative.” He turns from me and walks away, putting several purposeful feet between us.

“Fox, do you have any idea how lonely it is to be Roxie
fucking
Roberts?” I ask, bile rising in my throat. “I’m surrounded by people
all the time
but they aren’t looking at
me.
They’re looking at my dress or my hair or my damn waistline. They don’t care about who I am or what I think. No one ever has… except for you. Or so I thought.”

He closes his eyes. “Dani… I—”

“So if we’re going to start talking about suffering alternatives, Fox… I think that maybe you should have just stayed dead.” He opens his eyes again, showing a hard sadness. “You should have let me die…” My voice breaks apart. “At least, then I would have felt
that
instead of
this
.”

Fox takes a short step back to me. “Dani, you don’t mean that.”

“What difference does it make? It’s not like I’m irreplaceable. In a few years, there will be another girl, one that’s younger and prettier for everyone to nitpick and judge. No one will even remember my name.”

“I will.”

I inhale deeply. “It’s a nice sentiment, Fox… but you’ve already missed your chance to get in my pants.” I step away from him and he reaches for me.

“Dani, wait—”

“Don’t touch me, Fox.” I jerk away from him and rush for the bathroom before the tears spill over my cheeks.

My body betrays me. I close the door and lock it in a foolish attempt to keep the electric throbbing inside. I could feel it on his skin, too; that same insatiable lust for me as I have for him. It burns now, expecting me to go back to him and let him do whatever he wants to me and my body.

But I can’t do it.

I sit down and hang my head in my hands. My skin is still so hot. I can barely breathe. His hands were all over me. He tasted me like I was a piece of fruit and he’d been hungry for weeks. I still feel the stubble rash along my skin and lips, left behind by the scratch of his beard. It’s passion I’ve never experienced before and feel vastly unprepared for.

But I still want it to badly.

I turn on the sink and fill my palms with cool water to submerge my face in. The icy burn twinges my cheeks. I wince as it runs along the gash, washing salty sweat through the tiny, open wounds between stitches.

My skin pulses with each thump my heart makes. Any moment now, my skin will split open and everything will tumble free— or so it feels.

I put my hand on my chest to feel it and take a long, steady breath in. It’s an old theater trick a director taught me during my first TV job when I got nervous between takes. Put your hand on your heart and remember that it’s all just a machine in there. Machines can be studied and controlled. You’re the master of your machine, not the other way around. It’s silly and not very scientific, but I’ve always used it to calm my nerves when they start to take control of me.

I focus on my breathing for several minutes but I feel no more in control of it than when I began.

That guy was a hack anyway. The show got canceled after three episodes.

I pat my face dry with a towel and step back out into the room.

The television is off. I don’t blame him, I guess. I wouldn’t want to look at me either after that.

I part my lips to say his name but as I scan the room, I notice he’s gone.

I don’t really blame him for that either.

***

Botsford Plaza Hotels are quite possible the gaudiest looking places I’ve ever stayed at — gold fucking
everywhere
— but the staff is always pleasant no matter the location, so it’s a fair trade. This particular location is known for its dual tower design. There must be some kind of local festival happening tonight. I look up into the sky and see long wires connecting the towers with large, colorful lanterns hanging between them. Gaudy as fuck, I say.