Emma barely slept. Every time she closed her eyes, she felt Ryan’s hard body pressed against her back, his hand on her breast, his thick c**k against her ass. She woke up wet and aching, shame burning in her chest.
She stayed in her room until almost noon, then crept downstairs in shorts and a tank top. The power was back on. Ryan stood in the kitchen wearing only gray sweatpants that hung dangerously low. His back muscles flexed as he poured coffee. He looked over his shoulder and smirked.
“Morning, little sis. Sleep well?”
“Fine,” she muttered, avoiding his eyes. She grabbed a mug, but her hands shook.
Ryan stepped behind her, close enough that she could smell his clean, masculine scent. “Liar. I heard you tossing and turning all night.” His voice dropped. “Were you thinking about my
