In response, I give him an arch look, letting the silence speak for itself. Honestly, I know Levi isn’t as shallow or aloof as he pretends to be. As much as I would have preferred her not to, my Mom has kept me just as informed about his life as the tabloids.

Playing for Duke—it hasn’t escaped me that he was a Blue Devil—I know he graduated with honors and was accepted into MLS. His skills on the field have not only inspired whispers of a possible shot at the Olympics, but it’s provided him with a lot of corporate sponsorship in which a good portion of the money he receives from endorsements go to charities.

I also know that the main reason his father called me in is because Levi is in the middle of working out a very lucrative contract with one of the top selling athletics companies in the world, and he needs to be able to walk the walk as well as he talks the talk. All of this Levi keeps under tight wraps, though I’m not sure why. Maybe he just enjoys the life of billionaire playboy a little too much.

As soon as he’s planted himself on the mat, I go into full-on therapist mode and kneel down in front of him, unlacing and removing his shoe. “Let’s start with extending your legs and flexing your foot so I can gauge your range of motion.”

He does what I say, and it doesn’t escape my notice when he twinges. His cocky demeanor evaporates instantly and he gets real serious, real fast.

“Good, now press your toes toward me,” I continue. “Now side to side.” We continue with the rotation and add in some simple stretches with an elastic band. After some time has passed and I’m satisfied with his progress, I stand up and head back to where I got the mat from and pick up the simple piece of equipment that reminds me of the planet Saturn.

“Come sit down over here,” I tell Levi, indicating the polished wooden bench lining the mirrored wall.

“What in the world is that?”

“This,” I say as I bend down and set it at his feet, “is your new best friend—a wobble board. Put your feet on either side of the ball. The idea here is to rock it back and forth in nice, slow, controlled movements.”

That doubtful look crosses his face again, but Levi follows my instructions without another word. I can tell it’s a little uncomfortable for him—someone with so much energy—having to slow his pace, but maybe this experience will teach him a little patience in the process.

“This was not what I intended when I brought you here,” Levi says as he stretches his muscles. With my arms folded across my chest, I continue observing him in silence. Looking up at me, he forges on. “I had this plan. After the doctor appointment, I figured we’d come work out together, I’d show you my prowess, and then you’d strip off all your clothes and beg me to fuck you.”

My lip curls in disgust. “And why would you think I would do that? No, scratch that. Why would you want me to do that?”

“To prove to you that you still want me, because ever since the moment you saw me again you’ve been fighting your attraction to me.”

I snort. “You must have hit your head a few too many times on the field.”

“Probably,” he concedes, “but that doesn’t mean I’m wrong. Am I?”

My mouth opens to tell him just how wrong he is, but the words freeze in my throat. As I stand here, staring into those tropical blue eyes, I can’t make myself tell the lie. Disturbed by this, I gather up the mat from the floor and toss it back into the pile with the others. “That’s enough for today. We’re done here.”

Scrambling to catch up, Levi follows me back out to the car, reaching past me to open the passenger door. I climb in, buckling my belt and staring out the windshield while he pauses there, holding the door open as he stares down at me. I refuse to look at him. I don’t want this, any of it. I just want to get through this month and get out of here.

But Levi is determined to make it a nightmare. Just before he closes the door, I hear him say, “You’re wrong, princess. We’re not even close to being done. We’re just getting started.”

FML.

6

I don’t know what I’m doing. I could blame my telling Vista that we’re only getting started on my drive to get a rise out of her, or because I don’t know when to shut my mouth, but the truth is that was the truth.

As much as I want to keep this thing between us purely business, and as much as it needs to stay that way, nothing I feel for this woman is business or platonic or remotely brotherly.

I’ve spent the entire day with this woman, and it’s as if no time has passed. No matter how much I keep trying to find something about her that I don’t like, something to give me a reason to cut this attraction I have for her off like a gangrenous limb, I keep finding stuff about her that makes me want her even more.

Vista is gorgeous, even more so than when we were kids. She has brains, too, which I’m finding incredibly hot, especially when she got down on the floor with me and started issuing commands. It took some serious maneuvering to hide the hard-as-steel erection it gave me. She’s also sassy and incredibly stubborn, but I find that I like that quality about her, too. She thinks she can talk herself into not wanting me, but she doesn’t notice the way her body responds whenever I’m near her—the subtle pinkening of her cheeks, the quickening of her pulse, and the way her eyes track my every move.

But I do.

I notice all of it, and it turns me on like nothing else. The way my body has answered hers doesn’t shock me at all. It’s just like when I was eighteen and our parents first introduced us. There was this magnetic pull, an inexplicable instant attraction. I’d never experienced anything like it before. The difference between now and then, however, is that Vista is determined to resist and I’m...not.

It’s unreasonable for me to think that I can have her. Our parents are married, for crying out loud. But we’re only siblings by paper, not blood. What is unreasonable is expecting two complete strangers to deny their baser urges just because their parents decided to sign a legal document. If we had grown up together, it would be different, but we met as adults. We’ve never lived under the same roof or followed the same set of rules. I don’t know what she likes to eat for breakfast or if she leaves wet towels on the floor. I don’t know if she scares easily or who her friends are.

What I do know about Vista is limited. I know she’s a serious person, focused, driven. I know she values her family, even if it is only her mother. I know she’s passionate and giving, especially in bed. And I know she’s had her heart broken at least once.

I want to know more. I want to know everything. But there’s my father to consider.

David would shit a brick if anything developed between me and Vista. He’d probably have my other leg broken or just disown me completely. The kind of scandal being my stepsister’s lover would bring about is incomprehensible. The media would have a field day with it. It wouldn’t affect me in the least. I could give a flying fuck what anyone thinks of me. But David Black has a reputation to consider, and somehow I’ve fallen into that equation. And that’s why my father made it clear how off-limits Vista is to me.

I watch Vista sleeping, her face awash in the flickering glow of the television. Having captured that perfect peace, her features are slack, her eyes darting around behind closed lids as she chases her dreams.

After we arrived home, she accused me of trying to starve her to death, and then ordered a pizza. With my credit card. She took over my living room after that, channel surfing until she landed on some sappy romance movie with some douchebag actor spilling tears every other scene and completely unmanning men everywhere. It wasn’t until it became clear that she was going to eat the entire damn pie that I decided to join her or risk starving myself.