Addiction

Chapter 9

Chapter 9

The theater was dark, cozy and hot. He'd already taken off his jacket and slung it over the back of his seat, but damn the atmosphere was stifling. He hadn't quite intended it to be just himself and Sophie there. On the contrary, he'd imagined her showing up with her little boyfriend – the Champagne Chimp, as he'd begun referring to him privately – and her friends, maybe even their parents. But things didn't work out that way.

He slouched in his seat beside Sophie, watching in a kind of morbid fascination as she popped pieces of popcorn between her lips and occasionally sucked on the straw. Seventeen, he thought. She's seventeen. You're such a perv. It didn't matter that he had only just turned nineteen himself, his thoughts were entirely improper. More so, considering she was his damned stepsister. Almost jumping out of his seat when she laid a hand on his forearm, he breathed in her scent as she leaned close enough to whisper.

“Want some?”

Yes, he did. Oh, she meant the popcorn. “No, thanks Soph. I'm good.”

She looked at him with a speculative gleam in her hazel eyes, “Okay. If you change your mind, let me know.”

Damn, now he was thinking of getting some with his stepsister. All the girls he'd dated in the months since coming here had done nothing at all to lessen his attraction to her. They only served to remind him of what he wished he had. Sophie, on the other hand, had practically forgotten he was even male, it seemed. She had the Champagne Chimp to keep her occupied. He sure hoped the guy wasn't pressuring her into anything s****l.

The thought of Sophie naked in bed brought a groan to his lips, and she swung her gaze to his in question. He shook his head, unwilling to reply to the query in her look. He was so not going there tonight. Or ever.

He couldn't have said afterward what the movie was about – he'd stared at her too often to be sure. The way her eyes would scrunch up at the scary parts, and her hand would drift to her mouth would haunt him. The strawberry scent of her shampoo tormented him as she buried her face in the crook of his neck whilst the female lead tried to fend off the serial killer. She gasped, her lips touching the sensitive skin near the crease.

He fought a good fight, but in the end he wrapped his arm around her slight shoulders, dragging her closer. She paid him no mind, her eyes glued to the screen – when they weren't buried in the flesh of his neck – and watched the movie. He indulged in a moment of pure bliss as she jumped, almost ending up in his lap, her soft breasts brushing his side.

He was hard as steel and about as uncomfortable as he'd ever been in his life, his groin aching with need. He moaned when her lips once more tortured him as she whispered, “is it over?”

“No.” He hadn't even started.

The girl on-screen screamed as the killer caught her by the ankle from under the bed and Sophie pressed herself closer still, the armrest all the kept her from spilling into his lap. She clutched at the material of his shirt, little fists of iron tugging on the cotton subconsciously.

*