All Chapters of CRAVING MY SISTER'S BOYFRIEND : Chapter 41 - Chapter 50

HE IS MINE.DOMINIC’S POV.My jaw ticked. I’d been tapping my phone screen for the past ten minutes like it owed me money, rhythm pounding from my fingertips straight into my skull. The second that door creaked open, I already knew it was him. cyrus slumped in without a word, fell straight into bed next to me like gravity yanked him home, and buried his face into my neck.He smelled like liquor. Like sugar and lust and new cologne that didn’t belong to me.He cradled me in his arms, like I was the fucking prize. Pressed a wet, lazy kiss to my lips—one of those kisses that told on you, told where your tongue’s been, told who made you laugh a little too hard. And I kissed him back because I’m stupid like that, even when everything in me was already boiling.“You have fun?” I asked. My voice came out a little too smooth, too level. It was a test. I wanted to see if he could lie with his teeth still red. He nodded, smiling like a damn fool. “Yeah... yeah, I did.” His voice had that soft,

I NEVER STOPPED LOVING YOU CYRUS POV.I kept my hand on the doorknob because it felt safer to hold something. My fingers were stiff from how hard I’d been gripping it, but letting go made me feel like I’d fall forward. Dominic stood in the entrance, chest rising and falling too fast, like he’d jogged straight into the house without stopping once. His eyes were red around the edges, faintly swollen, and he kept blinking like he could force them to look normal if he tried hard enough."What?" I said. My voice didn't come out with inflection. Not angry, not confused-just flat, like it slipped out before I could decide what I wanted it to sound like. Dominic pressed his lips before answering. His jaw shook a little, then was set firm, holding himself together by the edge of his teeth."I said Marcus was dying," he repeated, this time slower, like he thought I hadn't heard him properly the first time. "He has cancer. He didn't want it public. He didn't want anyone to know. I stayed becaus

BACK TO THE BEGINNING.DOMINIC.I felt good. Relaxed in a way I hadn't felt in a long time. My back was against the couch, my legs spread just enough for Cyrus to settle between them. His hands were on my thighs, warm and steady, and his head was lowering. I had one hand in his hair, holding him close, guiding him slowly because I wanted to enjoy the moment without thinking about anything else. My breathing kept getting heavier, and my jaw was tight because the tension felt too good to control.I let out a rough sound low in my throat, and Cyrus looked up at me before continuing. My fingers convulsed in his hair without meaning to, and he took it like he always did, quiet and focused. My chest rose and fell hard as I let my head fall back for a second, just to breathe because it felt too good to stay still.Then the doorbell rang. The sound struck the room so suddenly that Cyrus was stock-still in a matter of a second. His mouth stopped, his hands stilled, and the sudden absence of wa

DONE WITH YOU CYRUS’S POVThe second Phoebe's expression changed, I knew. She snatched her phone so fast she almost dropped it, and the way her eyes shot over the screen told me everything. I didn't need to ask, didn't need to wonder. I just watched her panic. And instead of feeling punched in the chest or sick or dizzy like I used to, all I felt was something loosening deep inside me. Something quiet. Something real.My shoulders actually dropped. It felt weird, because I didn't remember the last time my body wasn't tense around her. I even let out this breath I didn't know I'd been holding for years. And the smile came before I could hide it. A real smile. Not the polite one I force when she drags me to her parents' dinners. Not the tired one I put on when she starts crying to avoid accountability. This was real, and I let it sit there.She looked terrified of the smile."C-Cyrus," she whispered, voice cracking, "I can explain. Please. Just let me talk. It's not-it wasn't-just list

NEAR DEATH.CYRUS POV.The smell of disinfectant and old coffee hung in the air, the latter a potent aftertaste left in the throat. I stood in the doorway a moment too long, my feet rooted in place as if they were stuck, my hands clenched into such tight fists they ached. A I didn't have to look far to find them.They were assembled in a cluster near the waiting area outside the surgical side, exactly where I knew they would be. Both families. All fathers. No mothers to temper it all, no one to lower voices and soothe with gentle words. Just angry men with a talent for filling a room.Dad stood by way of the windows, his stance locked in place, his suit a crisp reminder of everything he did not belong in. His presence, when contrasted with Phoebe’s father, stood in stark relief. His tie was undone, his jacket tossed over a chair, his hands moving in a restless pace up and down. His face burned reddened, red-rimmed eyes, as if he had already exhausted all of his reserves of control.A