The Incest

Chapter nineteen

Cora’s POV

The sand was warm under my bare feet, soft between my toes. I kicked at the water, letting it splash up around my ankles, and tried to shake off the lingering heat from the morning. Xavier’s gaze followed me, sharp and steady, and I felt that familiar flutter in my stomach—like my chest couldn’t decide whether to panic or melt.

“Hey, careful,” he called out, a teasing edge to his voice, but there was something else underneath it—something protective.

I laughed, spinning away from him, letting the sun hit my face. “I’m fine! Don’t act like you’re my bodyguard.”

He took a step closer, his shadow stretching over mine. “I’m not acting. You’re… reckless.”

I wanted to roll my eyes, wanted to shove him slightly, but I froze when his hand brushed mine as he stepped closer. Not a grab. Not a claim. Just skin, warmth, contact, and it sent shivers up my arm anyway.

“Stop… touching me,” I muttered, but I couldn’t hide the way my fingers lingered where his thumb had just grazed.

“Stop what?” he asked softly, but there was that teasing smirk, the one that made my knees weak even though I tried to look annoyed.

I kicked at the sand, trying to push the moment away, but then I slipped slightly in the water. He caught me instantly, strong hands around my waist, holding me flush against him. My breath hitched. “X-Xavier!”

“Gotcha,” he murmured, voice low, almost purring. “Wouldn’t let you fall, even if you wanted me to.”

I blinked at him, cheeks heating. “I—I didn’t want to fall!”

“Sure you didn’t,” he teased, and I felt him squeeze me just a little, playful but firm, making it impossible to forget how solid he was against me.

We started walking along the shore, and I tried to focus on the horizon—the sky bleeding orange into pink—but every time I looked at him, my stomach fluttered. He wasn’t touching me yet, not really, but the proximity, the way his hand occasionally brushed mine or his arm pressed against my back—it was enough. More than enough.

At one point, he picked up a stray beach towel and draped it over my shoulders. I blinked. “Thanks,” I muttered, letting the warmth settle, but my pulse was stubbornly fast.

“You look… perfect like that,” he said softly, his fingers brushing my hair out of my face. His hand lingered near my neck, thumb tracing a line just short of a caress. My eyes fluttered closed for a second, heart thudding like a drum.

“You’re impossible,” I muttered, but I couldn’t stop the small smile tugging at my lips.

He grinned, catching the tiny curl, and for a moment, I let myself be lazy, leaning slightly into his shoulder. Just a second. Just long enough to feel the heat of him through his shirt, and the way his chest moved under his own breaths.

“Cora,” he said quietly, and I turned to look at him, catching the intensity in his eyes. “We… we can’t really… but I can’t stop thinking about this—about you.”

My stomach flipped. “I… I know,” I whispered, even though I hadn’t fully processed how much I felt it too.

He didn’t touch me again, not beyond the occasional brush of skin or the hand on my lower back to steady me when the sand shifted. But just the closeness, the way he looked at me, made my breath catch and my pulse spike.

We collapsed onto the beach towel later, sitting side by side, shoulders brushing. I could feel him shift closer every now and then, his thigh pressing lightly against mine, his fingers brushing mine almost by accident—or maybe not. I shivered when he tucked a strand of wet hair behind my ear, and I didn’t pull away. Not fully.

The sky deepened into twilight, waves whispering against the shore, and everything else melted away. No rules, no shame, just… us, caught between want and restraint. And for the first time in a long time, I didn’t want to run.

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The sand was scorching under my feet, but I barely noticed. Xavier was just ahead of me, shirtless, shorts clinging to his hips, hair messy from the wind and salt air. My oversized shirt—one of his from earlier—fluttered around me, barely covering anything, and I felt exposed, flustered, and daring all at once.

“C’mon!” I shouted, trying to sound like I was chasing him, though my pulse was already racing.

He spun around, grinning, and in one fluid motion, he lunged, catching me effortlessly in his arms. My laughter burst out uncontrollably, half protest, half thrill.

“You’re impossible!” he muttered, his lips brushing mine as he twirled me gently, the heat from his chest against mine making me shiver.

I wriggled, trying to escape, but he held me close, teasing my sides, making me squeal. “Xavier! Let me—ahh! Stop!”

“Not a chance,” he said, voice low, rough, playful. “You’re mine, and I’m not letting you run away.”

He set me down, and I tried to dart past him, but he was already there, catching me again, pressing me against him, foreheads touching, breaths mingling. The salt air, the sun, the sand sticking to my damp skin—it all made everything feel so raw, so close, so alive.

“You feel that?” he murmured against my temple. “The way your skin reacts to mine… the way you want this, even if you won’t admit it.”

I gasped, half in frustration, half in pleasure, as he brushed his hands along my sides, teasing, holding me, keeping me close without crossing the line.

I tried to run again, sprinting toward the water, but he scooped me up in his arms like I weighed nothing, carrying me laughing toward the waves. My shirt fluttered, sand sticking to my legs, and I buried my face against his chest, feeling his heartbeat racing with mine.

“Xavier—wait! You’re cheating!” I squealed, but my hands couldn’t stop clinging to him.

He smirked, dipping slightly to dodge a wave, letting it splash over us. “Cheating? Nah. Just… owning what’s already mine.”

The waves licked at our feet, our laughter mixing with the ocean’s roar. Every touch, every press of his body against mine, every fleeting brush of skin sent shivers up my spine. Even without crossing the line, every movement was electric—playful, filthy in its teasing, intoxicating.

He lowered me back to the sand gently, leaning close so our faces were inches apart. “You’re mine,” he whispered, lips brushing my jaw, teasing, soft. “Even when you act like you’re not.”

I shivered, pressed back against him, breathless, cheeks hot, and for a moment, the ocean, the sun, the world didn’t exist. Just us. Skin on skin. Laughing. Teasing. Wanting.