“Yeah.” Rex’s voice sounds raw. “Yeah, I can’t ruin her life before it’s barely started.” He shakes his head. “Man, you should see her dance. She’s going to be a star.”
“Tasted her cooking,” Hank says, patting his belly. “Good thing I’m not a young buck anymore, huh, Rex?”
“Last chance,” Rex growls. “Then you’re sleeping outside.”
Hank and Rudy dissolve into laughter.
I’m caught between floating on air and sinking into the ground. Rex talks about me to his friends like I’m important to him. Like I’m special. And there was something about his jealousy when Rudy brought up my stepfather. He’s her stepfather. They ain’t close enough for him to be called Daddy. A low, thrilling tremor moved through me, seeming to hit a target. What was that all about?
The conversation between the men fades and I glide back down the hallway, replaying Rex’s words in my head. I can’t ruin her life…I couldn’t make her happy. At least now I know what I’m up against. Now I know where to prod his armor.
Taking a deep breath, I open my bedroom door and slam it, before padding down the hallway, pretending to rub the sleep from my eyes. Rex tenses as I walk into the living room, his eyes narrowing on the hem of my nightshirt.
“Good…morning?” I laugh at my own joke, since no one seems inclined to do it for me. “Did everyone enjoy dinner?”
Hank chances a look at me, but whips back toward the television when Rex growls. “Best meal I’ve had in a good long while.”
Rudy nods. “Same here. Thanks, Clara.”
Rex shifts in his chair. “Left a plate for you on the stove.”
I twist my fingers in the bottom of my shirt and watch my uncle swallow hard. “I’m not really hungry…” I slide off toward the kitchen. “But those beers look nice. Maybe I’ll have one of those.”
Without waiting for the protest I know is coming, I speed walk into the kitchen, open the fridge and snag the closest bottle. After a short search, I find a bottle opener and spend way too much time figuring out how it works. Eventually, however, I get the beer open and waltz back into the living room, trying to hold the bottle like it’s one of thousands I’ve held in my lifetime.
The closer I come to the trio of men, though, the more it becomes obvious I have nowhere convenient to sit. Rudy and Hank are taking up the couch and Rex’s bulk leaves zero room in the recliner. Having no choice, I move toward the couch, intending to squeeze between Hank and Rudy—
“Get over here, girl.” Rex’s hard voice halts me in the middle of the living room. I turn to find him crooking a finger at me. “Now.”
The desire to throw a tantrum sneaks up on me, but not because I’m mad. I mean, don’t I want to sit on Uncle Rex’s lap? No, I want to throw a tantrum so he carries me off to bed and punishes me how he did earlier.
Why? So you can pass out again?
Oh, shut up.
With my chin raised, I reverse directions and return to Rex’s side. He pats his lap and—ignoring the thickening tension in the room—I ease over the arm and perch on his big, strong thigh, my body angled sideways so his chest meets my right shoulder. Rex clears his throat and sits up straighter, pulling an afghan off the top of the chair, laying it across my bare legs. Then he ignores me and watches the television. As if I don’t feel how much he likes having me in his lap. The proof is growing by the second, finding its way between my butt cheeks.
“You ain’t old enough to drink that beer,” he finally mutters, for my ears alone. “Considering my list of sins concerning you, though, I guess it don’t rate.”
Until he mentions the beer, I forget I’m even holding it, but I take a long pull now, refusing to grimace over the bitter taste. “Uh…yum.”
A laugh rumbles in his chest, making me want to snuggle closer. We’re not alone in the room, though, and I can feel Rudy and Hank’s interest from five feet away. So I lay my head on Uncle’s Rex’s shoulder and try to watch the television program, taking occasional sips from my beer. My limbs start to tingle when I’ve almost reached the bottom of the bottle…and that’s when things like Rex’s scent begin hitting me harder. Not just his soap and aftershave, though. No, the subtle flex of his thighs and the possessive hand he settles on my knee beneath the blanket.
Hoping to ease the sudden pooling of heat between my thighs, I drink the last drop and lean back to set the bottle on the floor. But just the act of arching my back on a stretch is decadent. There’s a delicious tug in my tummy. Rex’s eyes feast on my nipples which are more than visible through the nightshirt. And when I settle back onto his lap, his hand is higher on my thigh. High enough that I can feel the heat of his touch through my panties.