Forbidden

by Evangeline Anderson

  “Uh, nothing. I didn’t hear you come in.” She stood up quickly, smiling at him. “So, are you hungry? I made dinner.”

  Owen stared at her, frowning. Her cheeks were flushed, and her eyes were bright and guilty looking. What had she been reading? And why had she hidden it so quickly? “Must be some book,” he said, nodding at the cushions where she’d shoved it. “You looked like you were really into it.”

  “Oh that?” She laughed nervously, but he noticed she didn’t offer to show him the book. “No, it’s nothing. Just a book of legends Professor Dobrev gave me to read. So… Are you hungry?”

  “Sure.” Owen decided to let the matter drop—for now anyway. “You didn’t have to cook,” he said.

  “I didn’t, really. I just made a chef salad.” Leah put her hands behind her back and cupped her elbows, a habit she had when she was nervous. The motion pushed out her chest, and Owen had to bite the inside of his cheek hard to keep from saying anything. She was wearing another one of his T-shirts—a very old and worn one, by the look of it. When she put her hands behind her back, the thin white cotton stretched tight, showing the outlines of a black lace bra underneath. The bra seemed to emphasize the full curves of her breasts. In fact, he swore he could see the hard points of her nipples pressing against the lacy material.

  Inwardly Owen groaned. Was she trying to kill him? Here he was, determined to resist his attraction to her, and then she went and wore something like this. God, what was he going to do?

  “I hope you don’t mind that I borrowed another one of your T-shirts,” Leah said, obviously misinterpreting his look. “I, uh, packed all my nightclothes in the boxes that are being shipped. But I promise I’ll wash it before I give it back.”

  “Not a problem.” Owen shook his head, forcing himself to look elsewhere. Unfortunately his gaze traveled downward to the tight jean shorts she had on. When she shifted, he could have sworn the seam of the shorts was right between her soft little pussy lips. Or maybe that was just his sick imagination.

  “What do you have behind your back?” she asked, and he realized he’d been so distracted by Leah’s appearance that he’d forgotten the gift he’d picked up for her.

  “Here. These are for you,” he said, thrusting a bunch of red roses at her. “I’m sorry they’re not much. I picked them up at the gift shop at the end of my shift.” Now why had he told her that? But Leah was absolutely beaming at him.

  “They’re beautiful. And you remembered that roses are my favorite.”

  Actually he hadn’t. But there was no way he was going to admit that now. “I wanted to let you know I appreciate you,” he said gruffly. “And…I like having you here.”

  “I like being here too.” She looked like she wanted to hug him, but luckily her arms were full of the roses. Owen had a pretty good idea how he would have reacted to feeling the soft press of her breasts against his chest again, and the thin scrub pants he wore didn’t hide anything.

  “Well, anyway…” He cleared his throat, trying to cover his confusion. “You said something about a salad?”

  “Oh yes, absolutely! Why don’t you go change and get comfortable, and I’ll dish it out. I’ll call you when it’s ready.”

  “Okay, great.” He’d showered at the hospital, but changing into something besides scrubs sounded appealing. He slipped on some jeans and a T-shirt and came back to sit on the couch while Leah hummed contentedly in the kitchen. She seemed busy, and he was about to flick on the TV, when the corner of the book she’d been reading caught his eye. He pulled it out from between the couch cushions and opened it to the place it had been marked with a red silk bookmark.

  It didn’t take long for him to realize that the “legend” he was reading was practically soft-core porn. And the subject matter… “Incest,” he muttered to himself. “Angel incest. Damn.” Was Leah really just reading this because of her new professor, or was she doing some private project of her own? Did she know his dirty secret, how he felt about her? And had she decided to do some kind of weird research because of it? The thought made him feel light-headed with apprehension. Surely not. Maybe it really was just an academic assignment. But still…

  “Dinner’s ready.” Leah was suddenly standing in front of him. Owen found himself fumbling to put down the book as quickly as she had when he’d walked in on her reading it.

  “Uh, sorry,” he said, not meeting her gaze. “I was interested to see what you were reading.”

  “It’s sort of an assignment from my professor,” she said, her face going red. “She’s doing research on the mythology of angels through the ages.”

  “The one I was reading wasn’t exactly about angels. The one about the girl and…and her brother?” Owen didn’t know why he was baiting her. But he had to know what she’d been thinking when she read it.

  “Oh, that one?” Now it was Leah who wouldn’t meet his gaze. “I, uh, I really just skimmed it. I have to get through the entire book tonight so we can talk about it tomorrow when I see her again. So,” she went on brightly, “what kind of dressing do you want? I have ranch or a nice homemade honey mustard.”

  “Homemade sounds delicious,” Owen said, deciding to let it drop. After all, what did he hope to accomplish by pressing the matter? To make her admit the story was disgusting? Repulsive? Because what else could she say about it?

  “Great.” Leah turned, her long golden hair swinging with the motion, and preceded him into the kitchen and dining area. Owen tried not to notice her long bare legs or the way the jean shorts molded to her round bottom.

  He did want Leah back in his life, but he hadn’t realized how difficult it was going to be. She was so gorgeous that he couldn’t help wanting to take her in his arms and kiss her here and now. But of course that was out of the question. Well, he told himself grimly, he would have to live with it. Anything was better than losing her again.

  “I hope you like sauvignon blanc,” Leah said, breaking into his chaotic thoughts. “I thought it would go with the salad.”

  “Sounds great.” He sat down opposite her at the tiny round table. It was tucked in the far corner of the kitchen area, and he’d never felt the need to buy anything bigger since he was usually the only one in the loft. Their knees brushed under it, and he shifted uncomfortably. “It was nice of you to make supper,” he said as she sat a large bowl of salad in front of him. There were apples and pears as well as slivers of almonds, ham, and turkey mixed in with the lettuce and tomato. “Looks delicious.”

  Leah blushed with evident pleasure. “I hope you like it. It always used to be one of your favorites. But it’s been so long…” She took a sip of her wine, but Owen knew what she’d been going to say.

  “So long since we talked about anything, huh?” he finished for her softly.

  Leah nodded. “But I know you’ve been busy. With med school and your residency…”

  “I shouldn’t have been too busy to keep up with you,” Owen said. “I don’t even know why you broke up with your fiancé and came down here in the first place.”

  “Oh, well…” Leah took a bite of her salad and a sip of wine, as though giving herself time to think. Finally she looked up. “James and I broke up because we disagreed about a lot of things. Mostly”—she bit her lip—“mostly sex.”

  “Oh?” Owen tried to keep his tone neutral, though the idea of Leah having sex with anyone—even her fiancé—made him feel sick with jealousy. “He was into the kinky stuff and you weren’t?” he asked casually.

  “Not exactly. More like he was into sex period, and I wasn’t.” Leah sighed and took another sip of wine. “It wasn’t his fault, though. I’ve never been into it. It just…feels wrong to me.”

  Owen felt as though a bolt of electricity had gone through him. The truth was, he had never derived much pleasure from sex either. He’d told himself it was because he could never manage to form a lasting connection with any of the women he went out with, but what Leah was saying was closer to the mark. It really did feel wrong. L
ike he was doing something he shouldn’t be doing with the wrong person. But then, who was the right person? Certainly not Leah—that would be illegal, not to mention sick. Except…he’d never felt anything half as intense as he had the night he’d kissed her all those years ago…

  “I shouldn’t have said that,” Leah said, obviously taking his silence for discomfort. “Beep, beep—overshare alert. I’m sorry,” she added with a crooked smile. “It must be the wine going to my head. I’ll switch to water now. Do you want some?”

  She started to get up, but Owen reached across the table and put a hand on her wrist to stop her. “It’s okay,” he said in a low voice. “You didn’t offend me, and I don’t mind what you said. You can say anything you want to me. Honestly.”

  “Really?” Her gaze flickered over his face. “Thanks. I know we always used to talk about everything, but I thought… I mean, it’s been so long since we were that close.”

  “I know.” Owen sighed. “And we used to share everything.” He laughed. “Hey, do you remember when Duchess had her puppies on your bed?”

  “In the middle of the night, no less.” Leah smiled. “On the weekend, when Mom and Dad were out of town. I didn’t wake up until she was almost done, and there were all these little soft things down by my legs, and it freaked me out so bad—”

  “And I heard you screaming at me through the bedroom wall,” Owen continued. “I thought for sure a burglar had broken into your room, and when I came bursting in and turned on the lamp, there was Duchess, practically right in your lap and looking so proud of herself. And your eyes were huge.”

  “It’s not funny.” Leah admonished him, but she was laughing herself by this time.

  “Is so. You should have seen your face.” Owen smiled, remembering. “And then when you realized what had happened, when you saw the puppies, your eyes lit up with joy. You were just…so beautiful at that moment.” He cleared his throat, embarrassed. “Sorry, I didn’t mean—”

  “I know what you meant,” Leah interrupted. “Do you know what I remember most about that night, Owen? The last puppy, the one that wasn’t breathing at first.”

  “The runt, of course.” Owen nodded. “I wasn’t sure he was going to make it at first.”

  “I was,” Leah murmured. “I knew when you picked him up and started rubbing him that everything was going to be okay. Because that’s your gift, Owen. You heal things. Heal people. I wish…”

  “Wish what?” he asked, looking at her.

  “Wish that you could heal yourself.” Leah looked down, away. “Of whatever’s bothering you, I mean.”

  “I don’t think that’s possible.” Owen cleared his throat. “But maybe I can heal what’s wrong between us. I was wrong to cut you out of my life, Leah.” He didn’t know where the words were coming from, but he couldn’t help saying them. “I’m so sorry. I hope you’ll give me another chance.”

  She looked up at him, her eyes bright. “I’d love to. If…if you really mean it. I mean, this morning we were doing so well, and then you sort of…withdrew again.”

  “I’m sorry about that too.”

  Leah looked down at his hand still resting on her wrist. “It was the blue dress, wasn’t it?”

  “What?” Owen frowned. “What blue dress? What are you talking about?”

  She looked up at him. “The blue dress I was wearing that day when you came home from college. I was so proud of it—I thought it made me look so grown up. But from the minute you saw it, you started treating me differently.” She looked away. “I burned it, you know—after you left. I never wanted to wear it again. But of course, by then it was too late.”

  Owen felt a lump form in his throat at the desolate look on her lovely face. “It wasn’t the dress,” he said thickly. “It was… You’d changed, Leah. Overnight. I was expecting to see my flat-chested little sister, and instead…” He motioned helplessly at her chest, feeling his cheeks get hot. “It was…unexpected,” he finished lamely.

  Her eyes flashed. “So you cut me out of your life because of these?” For a moment he thought she was actually going to lift the T-shirt and flash him, but instead she pulled it tight across her breasts, making her nipples stick out under the black bra.

  Owen wanted to stare, but he made himself look away quickly. “Not just because of…of that.” He pushed back from the table, leaving his salad only half eaten. “Dinner was delicious. Thank you.”

  “What, then?” Leah asked, following him into the living-room area, obviously unwilling to let it drop.

  “Never mind.” He settled on the couch and looked for the TV remote. “It’s not important.”

  “Yes, it is. Tell me, Owen, please.” Her voice went pleading as she settled beside him on the couch. “I’ll admit I have my suspicions, but I…I need to hear you say it out loud. Tell me so I don’t make the same mistake again.”

  “It wasn’t your mistake.” Giving up on finding the TV remote, he turned to face her. “You want to know what it was? It was me, Leah. The way I kissed you that night. That was wrong, and I…I had to make sure it never happened again.”

  Her reaction surprised him. “That was it? Just that? That one little kiss we shared the night before you went back to college?”

  Owen frowned. “It was more than a kiss, and you know it, Leah.”

  “We were kids, Owen.” She took his hand and looked up at him earnestly. “We’ve always been so close—or we were then, anyway. So we let ourselves get a little carried away.”

  “A little?” he said, pulling his hand away.

  “Owen, please.” She sighed. “Please don’t take this the wrong way, but I really think you’re blowing the whole thing out of proportion.”

  “How can you say that?” he snapped. “I practically molested you, for God’s sake.”

  “That’s not how I remember it.” Leah’s voice was soft. “I remember feeling loved and cared for when you kissed me. And afterward, when you rejected me, I was devastated. It was like”—her voice caught in a sob—“like my whole world came crashing down, because you suddenly started hating me.”

  “Leah, please don’t,” he said desperately as she started to cry. “God, you don’t know how bad I’ve felt about pushing you away. But I had to. I…I didn’t want to hurt you.”

  “Nothing you could’ve done to me would have hurt me more than your rejection.” Her voice was an agonized whisper.

  “That’s not true.” He clenched his jaw in frustration. “There are a lot of things that would have hurt you more.”

  “No, Owen.” She cupped his cheek lightly and looked into his eyes. “You don’t have any idea how much I’ve missed you, do you?” she murmured. “Even if you had gone further with me that night, it still wouldn’t have affected me as deeply as thinking that you’d suddenly stopped loving me.”

  He could feel himself losing control, but he couldn’t seem to stop. “Even if I had fucked you?” he demanded, making his voice deliberately harsh.

  “Even that,” she said gently. “Even that.”

  Owen stared at her. “You can’t be serious.”

  “I am.” Her gaze didn’t waver an inch.

  “You can’t. Leah, you were fifteen years old. What I did to you—what I wanted to do…” He broke off, shaking his head, sick at the thought. “I was a monster,” he muttered. I still am.

  “No. Owen, look at me,” she demanded. When he finally did, he saw that her eyes were bright with tears, but unflinchingly honest. “If I could go back in time… If someone gave me the choice between thinking you hated me or having my first sexual experience when I was fifteen with my older brother, I would pick the second option without thinking twice.”

  “You don’t mean that,” he muttered through numb lips.

  “Yes, I do. Do you know how I lost my virginity? To Billy Stanton, out at the old rock quarry about a year later. He was rough, Owen. It hurt, and I cried.”

  “Billy Stanton? That little bastard.” He felt a sudden irrational surg
e of jealousy, a wish to go back and wring the boy’s scrawny throat. He’d been a year behind Owen in high school, and they’d played on the football team together. But that had been years ago. Still, the idea of Leah hurt and crying made his blood boil.

  Leah wasn’t done. “He got pissed at me for crying and took me home. I had to sneak in the house and clean myself up. And the whole time I was trying not to cry too loud, for fear of waking up Mom and Dad.” She took a deep breath and wiped her eyes. “I know it wouldn’t have been like that if it had been you. Because you cared about me. You loved me.”

  “Oh, Leah…” He hardly knew what to say. Her eyes were like blazing blue jewels, her lashes wet with tears. “I still love you. But we can’t talk like this,” he said softly, cupping her cheek. He ached for her, wanted so badly to take her in his arms and kiss away her tears. But he didn’t dare, lest history repeat itself.

  “Why not?” she demanded. “It’s about time we talked, don’t you think? It’s been ten years. Ten long, wasted years, and oh, Owen…I’ve missed you so much.”

  He couldn’t help himself then. He had to hold her. And even the soft press of her breasts against his chest couldn’t stop him from pulling her closer and hugging her tight. “I’m sorry,” he said roughly, burying his face in the sweet-smelling golden waves of her hair. “God, Leah, I’m so damn sorry.”

  Owen didn’t know how long the hug lasted, but at last Leah pulled away. There were still tears in her eyes, and to be honest, there were a few in his as well. But that was all right, he thought, smiling at her as he brushed them away. The tears were cathartic. It was good to know Leah cared so much. And better than good—wonderful to know she didn’t think of him as a monster for what he’d done all those years ago.

  “I love you,” she said and smiled. “It feels so good to say that. So good to finally know why you pulled away.”

  “I’ll never do it again,” Owen promised earnestly. “Never.” He would never put her through such pain again. He loved her too much. Even if being close to his beautiful little sister was torment, being without her was worse.