CRAVING MY FORBIDDEN STEPBROTHER
Like he is handing me something he does not hand people.
I stop.
The back door opens.
Sienna steps out, coat already on, bag over her shoulder, and she is smiling. That smile, sick, satisfied, finished, the smile of someone who came here to do something and did it. She reads the yard in two seconds. Me. Cain. Whatever is written on both our faces.
The smile settles deeper.
“Give me a minute,” Cain moves.
Four steps across the wet grass and his hand closes around her wrist and she makes a sound, surprise first, then outrage and he pulls her around the side of the house, away from the light, away from the people near the back door.
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