10. Skyler

Reese throws her hands up in frustration, growling in an adorable way. I’d laugh if I wasn’t already on thin ice.

But seriously, anyone but Tyson Kyle.

She slumps back, staring morosely at the football game. “I can see talking to you is about as fruitful as talking to a stump.”

I’m about to sally back, but then I pause and really look at her. She looks so small. And sad. An uncomfortable feeling lodges under my ribcage and I rewind, trying to actually process what she’s said.

It’s hard, though. Reese is my best friend’s little sister. She has been so firmly rooted in the friend zone; I literally cannot picture her in this scenario. I can’t even picture her in a sexy outfit.

Although, there was that dance uniform back in high school which was just… criminal.

I glance over at her, wondering if she’s still hiding those banging curves under that baggy sweater. And then guilt washes over me, thick and cloying. I feel like a dirt bag.

And she’s still waiting for a response.

When I can’t think of one, her expression crumples a bit, and she pushes up from the bench. “Just forget it.”

She’s gone before I can respond.

I turn my gaze back to the game, but my heart is pounding painfully in my chest. She’s obviously going through something and I’m betting she doesn’t have a lot of people she can talk to.

I’m not sure I want to be the one to talk to her about her man problems, but I can’t just leave her high and dry, either. Our relationship has always been me looking out for her.

She’s the little sister I never had. I can’t and won’t let her suffer. Climbing to my feet, I decide to follow her.

She’s not in the kitchen. I try her bedroom, but where she had movie posters and bulletin boards full of polaroids, there’s a large unicorn and a fairy tent. Josh’s older daughter, Maven, has taken over Reese’s room.

I slip downstairs, quietly opening the door to the basement. Man, this brings back the memories. I feel like I can still smell the Doritos and spilt soda.

We logged more video game time here than is strictly healthy. It was our safe space, and sometimes, when Josh was feeling generous, we’d let Reese hang out with us.

She’s sitting on the couch, staring at her phone. I’m relieved to have found her, but also a little unsure. It’s hard to square my memories of her with this adult version.

I sit down next to her with a gusty sigh, attempting to act naturally.

She peers at me. “Want me to turn on the game?”

My response gets stuck on my tongue. Was she always this pretty?

Pretty isn’t the right word.

She’s stunning.

All it took was listening to her talk about adult scenarios. I’m realizing that, yes, she is a full-grown woman. A very sexy, beautiful woman.

Reaching over for the remote, she puts the game on the TV and sits back. Our team is still losing, but I hardly care. My head is a mess. I don’t have room for football.

We’re all alone and I’m liable to do something very, very wrong. Because at the end of the day, I’m not a nice guy. I tend to give into temptation, especially where women are concerned. They’re my one and only vice.

And she is ticking all the boxes.

Dark, expressive eyebrows. Brown eyes that are usually wide and innocent, but right now are hooded and angry. Full lips that look so soft and plump. I want to know what they taste like.

Where’d that kid with the goofy grin and the braces go?

I need her back, stat, because this sexy little thing has thrown my world off its axis.

She purses her lips, drawing my attention there. “I got a tattoo.”

“What?”

She turns to face me, pulling her leg up under her. “A couple of weeks ago. Want to see?”

It’s like she’s determined to prove herself as an adult. Having a rebellious stage at twenty-four. I shrug, feeling a little light-headed. “Sure.”

I expect her to pull off a sock. Maybe expose a wrist. But, no. She lifts the hem of her sweatshirt. My stomach flip-flops and I can’t decide if I want to reach out and stop her or reach out and help. It’s a torture-fest, watching the sweater rise higher and higher. Cute little belly button. Smooth, soft curves. The lacy edge of her bra makes an appearance and I start feeling panicky.

It’s green.

Like… Kelly green.

I expected beige. White, maybe. And if I really stretched my imagination, black.

But there’s something so playful and unexpected about a green lace bra that my cock is instantly awake. Interested. And that is very, very wrong.

I’d tell her to put her shirt back down, but my lips aren’t working.

She slips her fingers under the side of her bra and lifts it higher, exposing her ribcage, and a tempting crescent of side boob.

I shove my hands under my thighs to keep from running a finger along that soft skin.

I swallow, trying to keep my voice even, but it comes out husky. “Why a snake?”

“The serpent was Eve’s original B.F.F.”

I drag my eyes up to hers.

“Kidding.”

She grins, dropping her sweater. “It was an impulse, but I love it. As soon as I saw it, I knew it was the one. The snake symbolizes rebirth, you know?”

I don’t know anything.

I don’t know up or down, anymore.

This girl, the one I grew up with, isn’t who I thought she was.

She’s grown into someone who is infinitely more complex, more interesting than I could have fathomed.

I feel like I’m meeting her for the first time. And she’s leaving me speechless.