Virgin Cousin Taken at the Family Cabin

A TABOO FORCED PROXITY NOVELLA

BY

LIORA CROSS

chapter 1

The cabin was exactly as Maya remembered it: one big room with a loft, a stone fireplace that took up half the wall, and windows that looked out onto nothing but pine and the edge of the lake. She’d driven up alone on purpose. No phone service, no one expecting her, just the quiet and the old quilt on the bed and the bottle of wine she’d bought on the way.

She was halfway through her second glass, barefoot, hair still damp from the shower, when the door opened.

Liam stood in the doorway with a duffel bag over one shoulder and snow on his boots. For a second they just looked at each other.

“Maya,” he said, like he was confirming it. “Didn’t know anyone was up here.”

“I told Aunt Karen.” Her voice came out thinner than she wanted. “She said the place was empty this weekend.”

He stepped inside and shut the door behind him. The lock clicked. “Guess she forgot. Road’s already washing out down by the bridge. I barely made it.”

He was bigger than the last time she’d seen him. Broader through the shoulders, stubble along his jaw, the same dark hair that always fell in his eyes. He dropped the bag and shrugged out of his jacket like he lived here. Which, technically, he did as much as she did. Family cabin. Shared key.

“You want a glass?” she asked, because silence felt worse.

“Yeah.”

She poured. He took the glass, fingers brushing hers, and stayed close while he drank. She could smell the cold on him, the faint smoke of whatever he’d been doing before he drove up.

“You still don’t drink much,” he said.

“I drink.”

His mouth tipped. “Not like this. Not alone in the cabin with your cousin.”

The word sat between them. She looked at the fire she’d built earlier. It had burned down to coals.

“I’m gonna add wood,” she said.

She crouched in front of the hearth. When she stood up, he was right behind her. Not touching, but close enough that she felt the heat of his body against her back.

“Maya.”

“Don’t.”

“Don’t what?” His voice was low. “I’m just standing here.”

She turned. He didn’t move. The wineglass was still in his hand. His eyes were on her mouth.

“You’ve been looking at me like that since I walked in,” he said.

“I haven’t—”

“You have.” He set the glass on the mantel without looking away. “Same way you used to look at me when we were younger and you thought I didn’t notice. Except now you’re twenty-five and you’re up here alone and you’re not wearing anything under that shirt.”

Heat rushed up her neck. The shirt was old, soft, one of her dad’s that she’d stolen years ago. It hung to mid-thigh. She hadn’t bothered with pants after the shower.

“Liam.”

“Tell me to leave.” His hand came up, slow, and settled on her hip. The fabric bunched under his palm. “Tell me to go sleep in the truck. I’ll do it.”

She opened her mouth. Nothing came out.

His thumb stroked once over the bone of her hip. “That’s what I thought.”

He kissed her.

It wasn’t careful. His mouth was hot, open, tasting like the wine and something sharper underneath. She made a sound against his lips and he swallowed it, walking her backward until her shoulders hit the wall beside the fireplace. One ...