Though my desire didn't subside in the least, I was careful while lying at my brother's side. As minutes passed in comfortable silence, my self-restraint gave me a swell of satisfaction. I could be good for Clint. I could be appropriate. Finally, he said, "This morning, when you dropped your towel in front of me... it wasn't an accident, was it?" I froze, weighing the best response. "Maybe not," I admitted, unable to keep...

I woke the next morning with a residue of shame clinging to me. Between my thighs was the evidence of my illicit lust, matted in the curls of my pubic hair. Longing for a shower, I grabbed clean clothes from my suitcase and then stepped out into the hall. The house had only one bathroom, which my brother was leaving at that moment. His hair was still damp from his shower. Along with jeans, he wore a long-sleeved shirt whi...

Clint stood on the front porch, his hands in his coat pockets. Though he couldn't have known I'd arrive at that exact moment, I wanted to believe he'd somehow sensed my approach and was waiting for me. Pulling into the gravel driveway, I tore my gaze from him long enough to study the house we'd inherited from our grandmother. It was a little more weathered and worn, with a dark shutter hanging askew, but mostly the same a...