5. FUCK MY NIECE

DAVID;

I was fucked.

Completely, utterly fucked.

I sat in my apartment at eleven PM with a scotch I didn't want and couldn't stop thinking about my niece.

My nineteen-year-old niece.

My sister's daughter.

The girl I'd taught to ride a bike. The girl I'd driven to her first day of high school. The girl who used to have pigtails and scraped knees and called me "Unca Dave" because she couldn't pronounce uncle yet.

When the hell had she become... this?

I took a drink. Let the burn distract me for half a second before my brain went right back to her.

That fucking red bikini.

I'd known the moment I saw her what she was doing. Known she'd worn it on purpose, known she was testing me, and I'd still gone over there like an idiot. Still put my hands on her.

Still gotten hard touching her.

Jesus Christ.

Her skin had been so soft. Warm from the sun. Smooth under my palms. I'd tried to keep it clinical, professional, just helping her with the sunscreen like she'd asked. But then she'd spread her legs slightly and I'd seen—fuck, I'd seen how wet she was. Seen the dark patch on that scrap of red fabric between her thighs.

She'd been turned on. From me touching her.

And when her top had come "untied"—because there was no fucking way that had been an accident—I'd looked down at her bare back, at the curve of her spine, at the way her tits were pressed against that towel, and I'd wanted to flip her over. Wanted to see them. Touch them. Put my mouth on her nipples and make her moan my name.

I'd wanted to fuck my niece by the pool in broad daylight.

I drained the scotch. Poured another.

You're disgusting.

I was. I knew I was.

She was nineteen. Barely legal. Still in college. And she was family.

My sister's kid.

But I couldn't stop seeing the way she'd looked at me. The way she'd said "please" when she asked me to tie her top. The little arch of her back when my fingers had brushed her skin.

She wanted me.

And god help me, I wanted her too.

My phone rang.

I looked at the screen.

Maya.

My heart stopped. Then started racing.

It was almost midnight. Why the hell was she calling me?

I answered. "Maya? You okay?"

Her voice came through, breathy and small. "Uncle David? I'm sorry to call so late. I'm at a party and I... can you come get me? I don't feel safe."

Every protective instinct I had roared to life.

"Where are you?" I was already grabbing my keys.

She gave me an address. Some house across town.

"Stay where you are. I'll be there in fifteen minutes."

"Thank you," she whispered.

I broke every speed limit getting there.

The house was huge, set back from the road, with cars parked up and down the street. Music thumped from inside. People spilled out onto the lawn.

I pulled up front, scanned the crowd for her.

And there she was.

Standing under a streetlight in a short black dress that showed too much leg, arms wrapped around herself, looking small and vulnerable and so fucking beautiful it hurt.

I got out of the truck. "Maya."

She looked up. Smiled. "You came."

"Of course I came. Are you okay? Did someone hurt you?"

"No, I just—can we go? Please?"

"Yeah. Come on."

I opened the passenger door for her. She climbed in and I tried not to look at how much thigh that dress showed. Tried not to notice she wasn't wearing a bra under it.

Failed on both counts.

I got in the driver's seat. Started the truck. Pulled away from the curb.

We drove in silence for maybe two minutes before I realized something.

She wasn't drunk.

Her words weren't slurred. Her eyes were clear. She was sitting up straight, not leaning against the window or looking sick.

"Maya, how much did you drink?"

"Nothing."

I glanced at her. "Nothing?"

"I didn't drink anything. I wasn't at the party long."

"Then why did you need me to come get you?"

She didn't answer right away. Just looked out the window.

"Maya."

"I wanted to see you," she said quietly.

My hands tightened on the steering wheel. "What?"

"There was no party. I mean, there was, but I wasn't in danger. I just—" She turned to look at me. "I wanted to see you. And I knew you'd come if I called."

Oh fuck.

"Maya, that's—you can't do that. You can't lie and say you're in trouble just to—"

"I'm sorry." But she didn't sound sorry. "I didn't know what else to do. You've been avoiding me since the pool."

"I haven't been avoiding you."

"You have. You didn't come back to fix the filter. You had someone else do it. And you skipped dinner at Mom's last night."

Because I couldn't be around her. Couldn't sit across from her at the table and make small talk while all I could think about was bending her over that table and—

Stop. Fuck. Stop it.

"I've been busy with work," I said.

"You're lying."

I pulled into her driveway. Put the truck in park. Didn't turn it off.

"You should go inside," I said.

She didn't move. "Why are you afraid of me?"

"I'm not afraid of you."

"Then what? Why won't you look at me?"

I made the mistake of looking at her then. She was turned toward me in the seat, one leg tucked under her, and that dress had ridden up so high I could almost see—

I looked away. Gripped the steering wheel so hard my knuckles went white.

"Maya, what are you doing?"

"What do you want me to be doing?"

The question hung in the air between us.

Tell her to get out. Tell her this is wrong. Tell her she's your niece and you'd never, ever touch her like that.

But the words wouldn't come.

Because I wanted to touch her like that. Had been thinking about it for days. Weeks. Longer than I wanted to admit.

"David." She never called me just David. It was always Uncle David. But right now, in this dark truck, with her looking at me like that, she'd dropped the uncle. "Look at me."

I did.

She leaned across the console.

And kissed me.

Her lips were soft. Warm. She tasted like cherry lip gloss and something sweet and I was already kissing her back before my brain caught up.

My hand went to her face. Cupped her cheek. Held her there while I kissed her deeper.

Her tongue touched mine and I groaned into her mouth.