When Dante texted me that he was home, my idea snowballed.
I was home alone.
And bored.
And horny.
When he showed up with my favorite steak tacos from the food truck down the street and a tiny lamb the size of a quarter carved out of wood, I practically jumped him right there. He knew how much I loved those little animal statues. When he pulled me in for a hug, he whispered “Syria.” He wasn’t supposed to tell me where it was from, but he always did.
He’d brought me one every single time he came back to visit. And every time I squealed. My family thought it was just my innocent love for animals but it was mostly my love for him.
I should have had those tacos with him and sent him right home. Instead, we watched The Sound of Music. It was a staple in our house. My mom played the movies she liked and that was a favorite. We all knew those songs by heart and I think it was a sort of comfort for Dante. He sighed as the first song started and I smiled up at him on the worn leather couch of the family room.
This was where I normally would feel most secure, sort of like when someone hands you an old blanket and you know exactly what it was going to smell like. Except my mind was racing with the ideas in my head, of how I would seduce him, of how his muscles already felt so good up against my arm.
When I laid my head on his shoulder, he petted my dark waves like it was nothing. Even then, my heart skittered around. When the sixteen year old in the movie sang about how innocent she was, I sang right along with her. He glanced down at me, his dimples showing with his smirk and I was a goner.
I swear his eyes roved over my whole face and lingered on my lips.
It was then or never, so I did what I never would have before.
Our lips touched and it was like we both sighed into what we’d always wanted.
Or at least I think we did.
He didn’t feel awkward or uncomfortable. It felt like my mouth belonged on his.
The kissing turned to making out and our cautious touches turned to heavy petting. He pulled away for a second to rearrange us on the couch, pulling me into his lap all while he murmured the reasons why he should leave.
Shit, you’re Dom’s little sister.
So? A lot of guys have little sisters. Is that all I am to you?
No, of course not—but you’re too young.
Eighteen’s too young for you? I’m sure other guys wouldn’t mind me at eighteen.
Jesus, what other guys?
The ones I’ll call if you leave me like this?
I loved how he seemed to get bigger then, more possessive, more territorial.
Don’t goad me, Lilah. You’re too good for all of them … and for me.
Good? Does this seem good to you?
I’d straddled him then and tried my best to lose my innocent act and embrace my vixen side.
He’d cursed himself over and over, but he hadn’t stopped touching me.
His guilt only fueled my libido. He’d always wanted to be the definition of best friend to my brothers, but suddenly his desire to be with me was stronger than even that.
“When we were making out, I asked if you were on the pill. That would have been the perfect time to tell me you were a virgin,” he pointed out as he stood there, his dick still glistening from being inside me. My core tightened just knowing he’d been the one to do that for me.
“Yes, there were like ten perfect times to offer up that information. I could have told you when we were getting undressed, when I texted you, when I kissed you during the movie. I obviously didn’t want to.”
He shook his head, the angle of his jaw tighter now than it had been even a second ago. Dante had self-control that coiled around his anger in a way I’d never seen before. I’d only seen him lash out when he was in high school, and that was if someone was making fun of one of our families.
No one did that much. Dante made sure of that.
We came from a family of six, but it was just his mother and him. You’d think our backup was good enough and that Dante couldn’t afford to alienate others by beating up a guy for telling my brothers our family should go back to Greece. He did, though. Dante always stuck up for what was right, and he charmed the town into believing him too.
Even now, when he was supposed to be pissed at me, I didn’t really worry. Dante was that kind, immovable rock in my life.
He sat back to stare at me. His green eyes popped against his sun-kissed skin, inquisitive and searching like I had the answer to some problem he hadn’t figured out yet. I didn’t move as we assessed one another. I lay there open to him for what felt like a whole minute. I didn’t close my legs. I didn’t even lift the sheet over me.