Page 67 of Unbound

I was actually a little surprised when she only chose two options. I should have made it clear brunch likely isn’t going to be our only required appearance while Constance is here.

And looking at what she’s wearing now, I’m not mad about it anymore.

Sybil is beautiful in just about any scenario. Even with messy hair, bloodshot eyes, and a smear of food across her T-shirt, any man would happily take her off my hands.

Well, they’d try to, anyway.

But the woman standing in front of me now? Any man in his right mind would stick a knife in my gut to steal her away.

Or try to, anyway.

The deep blue dress she chose hugs every inch of her softly curved body, amplifying the cinch of her waist and the swell of her ass in a way that has me worried about my ability to survive the next two hours without passing out. Because every pint of blood in my body is doing its best to drain south.

“I’m just going to wear leggings and a T-shirt and your aunt Constance can think I’m hot garbage.” Sybil spins away. Like she thinks there’s a chance in hell I’m letting her take that dress off.

It has to stay on, because the only way it’s coming off is if I peel it off her, and that’s a whole can of worms we don’t have time to open.

I quickly set our coffee back on the counter, the metal bases hitting the stone surface heavily in my rush to get to her. I catch her hand just as she reaches the base of the stairs, using the hold to spin her toward me. The soles of her equally sexy heels don’t have quite as much traction as what she normally wears, so the momentum is enough to send her off balance.

Gripping her hip, I steady her, unable to keep my eyes from dipping once again. “You misunderstood. I wasn’t trying to say you shouldn’t wear this dress.” I flex the hand on her body, fingers digging into the soft flesh of her ass. “You should actually wear this dress every day.”

That’s actually a terrible idea, because I would never get anything done. I’d never leave the house, and neither would she. Every second of the day and every ounce of brainpower I possess would be wholly dedicated to discovering what her tits look like spilling out of the top, and if there’s enough stretch in the fabric for me to hike it up and bend her over a desk.

Or a couch.

Or a countertop.

Maybe a few chairs.

I successfully managed to keep from dragging Sybil to my bed last night, and that might have been a mistake. Maybe if I’d been able to touch her last night, I wouldn’t be obsessing about it now.

Unlikely, but possible.

“I’m pretty sure this isn’t an everyday sort of dress.” Sybil attempts to adjust the neckline again. “Are you sure it doesn’t look bad?”

“It looks the opposite of bad.” I release her hand and bring my fingers up to trace across her collarbone, already losing the battle to keep my hands to myself.

“It looks weird without a necklace, doesn’t it?” Sybil lifts one hand to rub at the base of her throat. “I didn’t even think to order jewelry.”

“It doesn’t need a necklace.” I don’t think anyone would notice it anyway when her skin is so smooth and her neck is so delicate.

“I guess we’ll find out. From what you said, it sounds like Auntie Constance won’t hold her opinions back.” Sybil pulls in a deep breath and blows it back out. “We should probably get going. We’ll be in trouble if we’re late, and I’m already in trouble with your family.”

Also because if we don’t go now, I might decide she shouldn’t leave my house at all. And regardless of how fantastic of an idea my dick thinks it is, fucking Sybil would complicate an already complicated situation. Though I’m caring about complications less and less every second I spend with her.

“Here.” I pass off her coffee before grabbing my own. “If it gets to be too much for you, let me know and we’ll leave.”

When I discovered Sybil was gone Friday, I nearly lost my fucking mind. The drive to my house gave me too much time to imagine all the awful things that could have happened to her. Time to experience how I’ll feel when she leaves.

And I didn’t fucking like it.

So if she leaves my aunt’s, I’m leaving with her. If for no other reason than so I don’t have to imagine that eventuality again. Not yet.

Sybil snorts. “I’m sure that would go over real well, us just walking out of brunch.”

“I don’t care how it goes over.”

I’m willing to go to brunch. I don’t want to make my aunt’s life harder than it has to be, and I do genuinely enjoy hanging out with my cousins. But I won’t let any of them treat Sybil badly. Not when it’s becoming clearer every day she didn’t actually do anything more wrong than I have. She’s simply trying to figure out what happened to her dad. The same way I’ve been trying to figure out what happened to my mom.