Darn Stupid Brother You Are by Mairee

Chapter 38

(Angel's POV)

Hendrix's lips crashed against mine and it felt like the world around us fell away. His kiss was demanding and raw, like he was trying to take every piece of me he could get. I tasted the faint bitterness of his medication still on his lips, but it didn't matter. His hands tangled in my hair and pulled me closer, and the warmth of his body seeped into mine like fire spreading under my skin. There was a sharp urgency in the way his mouth moved against mine and I felt his frustration and hunger in every breath we took from each other.

The air in the room grew thicker and the sterile scent of antiseptic mixed with the musk of Hendrix's skin. His tongue swept over my bottom lip, a silent plea I couldn't resist. He had already carried me up and laid me on the bed. I opened for him and the moment his tongue slid against mine, it felt like an electric current shot through me, sparking in every nerve. My body arched into his and I craved more contact and more heat. His taste was addictive, a mix of bitterness and something darker that made me want more of him with every passing second.

I felt the cool leather of the treatment bed pressing into my back, contrasting with the heat of his body as he leaned over me. His hands slid down and his rough fingertips traced the curve of my jaw and my throat, and the sensation made me dizzy like he was marking me with every touch. My heart raced and pounded so hard it felt like it might burst, but I couldn't focus on anything other than how his lips moved against mine-hard and relentless, like he was claiming me. The sounds of our kisses filled the room, soft and wet, each one pulling a moan from deep in my throat. Hendrix's breath was hot and ragged, and his chest rose and fell with mine as he pressed closer, his body a solid wall of heat against me. The friction between us-his body hard and mine pliant-sent a wave of need through me and I couldn't stop my hands from roaming and gripping the fabric of his shirt to pull him closer. His skin felt feverish beneath my palms and every muscle was tight like he was holding back something dangerous.

were swollen and his pupils were wide, and there was something feral in the way he stared at me. For a moment, we stayed still and breathed hard, staring at each other like we were on the edge of something we couldn't return from. His thumb brushed over my bottom lip, swollen and

a word, he leaned in again, slower this time and more careful. His mouth was softer now, almost gentle as it moved over mine, but the intensity was still there. His kiss was a promise and a warning, and it left me

kiss felt like a surrender and

uncross. We were step- siblings, for god's sake. But every time I thought about pulling away and stopping this, his hands pulled me back in and ignited a fire that drowned out the guilt and shame. He tugged at my shirt and without thinking, I lifted my arms and let him strip it from my body like it was never meant to be there. The cool air of the room hit my skin and made me shiver, but all I could focus

over my body. There was hunger there, and it sent a jolt through me. "You're beautiful," he murmured as his fingers brushed the waistband of my jeans. I bit my lip and tried to focus, tried to remind myself why this was wrong, but I couldn't. I couldn't think

to myself than to him, but even I didn't believe it anymore. My body had already made the decision, and he knew it. He

my mind went blank. All I could feel was him. The way he touched me, the way he looked at me like he knew exactly what I was thinking and exactly what I needed. He pulled my jeans down and his hands moved slowly and carefully as if he was savoring every second. I knew I should stop this. I should stop him. But I couldn't. "You don't want this to stop, do you, Angel?" His voice was a taunt, but it carried something deeper and darker.

was shaky but honest. The weight of the admission made my heart stutter and there was no taking it back. I was too far gone. His grin turned wicked like he'd won some unspoken game between us. Before I could say another word, his hand slipped lower, between my thighs. The heat from his palm spread through me and his fingers began to move, slow

he touched me, I gasped, and my hips instinctively bucked against his hand. "That's it," he murmured, his voice dark and full of promise. "Let go for me." His fingers found a rhythm, stroking and coaxing, and it felt too good, too overwhelming. The tension built inside me with every stroke, and I was caught between wanting it to end and never wanting it to stop. "Hendrix," I moaned, and my hands gripped his shoulders,