Chapter 2

Maggie got quiet after they smoked. The fight, the anger, seemed to die in her. She went into the house, and Rhys watched her go, shaking his head at retreating back.

It still didn’t feel quite real, honestly, that she was back. Not after all those months of lonely wondering, of grief alone. He took a long drag of the joint she’d left for him. It was hard to say how this would turn out, but he thought he knew what she wanted.

When Rhys finally finished and went in, he saw his sister was preparing a sauna. It was unmistakable: he could smell the distinct scent of birch burning in the sauna room, feel the extra wet prickle of humidit in the air–and if that wasn’t enough of an indicator, there was Maggie, waltzing through the house half naked, wearing nothing but a towel. Her long, slender legs were fully exposed for his viewing pleasure, and there was an alluring sway to the round curve of her bottom.

Rhys wondered, longingly, if she’d be against having company in there. The legs weren’t the only thing–some of Maggie’s breasts showed, only a small tantalizing swell under the (seemingly) tiny cotton towel. He felt himself get hard, mentally cursing himself, but months with no company but his own made it hard to exert the necessary self-control.

More memories were popping up, completely unbidden, and now Rhys was remembering all the other times he’d seen his sister—gorgeous and naked, at that point in their relationship—go into the sauna. Sometimes it was an invitation; sometimes it wasn’t. Either way, he’d usually follow her.

His sister’s passion was both tender and sweet. It was so nice to kiss in the sauna; it made their hearts slow, touches lazy but heated in the hot, damp air. They would wrap around one another, limbs entangled, flesh rubbing together, never quite going all the way...

‘I want you,’ Maggie would pant, against Rhys ear, where his hair was wet. But no matter how she pleaded, he would only kiss her neck and breasts, pausing to lick, suck, and caress until she was moaning loudly, completely frenzied.

He was so hard thinking of it. Rhys knew he shouldn’t have done it, that he shouldn’t have started imagining fucking her when she was basically naked right down the hall. (Andworse, he’d tried to push these thoughts away for months when they came, but now he was practically constructing a new fantasy!)

Fuck...

Maggie had wanted to end this. Just because she had come back didn’t mean she wanted to start it with him again. No matter what had happened. Geez, she’d even brought a boyfriend! And Rhys had run the guy off. (Even if the new guy was a dumb asshole.)

What right did Rhys have to ruin the new life his sister was trying to build? What fucking right did he have?

The answer was simple: None. None at all.

Deflated now, he swallowed hard and put the soup on Decided not to hate on weed anymore. Rolled another fattie and went outside to smoke it, in the chilled almost-winter air. And Rhys could admit, to his own surprise, that he actually felt a lot better after doing it.

The soup smelt good when he came back in. The warmth of the house was warmer somehow. The fire was low, so it didn’t burn hot, and it would stew without much work for the next hour or more. He stirred the pot anyway, anticipating the rich tastes later.

Then he got undressed, reaching for a towel. He had decided to join his sister in the sauna ... and not for any seductive purpose, either. The opposite.

To apologize.

Maggie was all the way naked when Rhys stepped into the scalding wood-panelled room. Skin rosy with heat, her smooth neck glistening with sweat, Rhys could have sworn Maggie was some sort of sex goddess here to taunt him, and he had to make a real effort tear his gaze away from the memorable sight.

When his sister opened her eyes, her deep brown gaze held no fear, reproach, or shame at being nude. She made no move to cover herself. Trying not to rake her body with his eyes, he sat on the bench opposit her, rearranging his towel to cover his lap rather than wrap around his waist as he sat.

‘It is all right if I join you?’ he asked, belatedly.

‘Sure,’ his sister said smoothly. Removed. ‘I don’t mind.’

‘I would like to apologize,’ Rhys said immediately, even though she didn’t seem the slightest bit bothered anymore.

‘Don’t worry. It’s okay,’ Maggie said. Her face seemed strangely tranquil. ‘‘Really. It’s fine. I’d say something if it wasn’t, Rhys. You know I would.’

‘Yeah. You would.’

They were quiet for several moments. Maggie tilted her head back, closing her eyes, and appeared to relax into sleep.

Swallowing hard—and feeling guilty, but far too hungry for the simple sight of her to stop himself—Rhys drank in every curve of her body with his eyes. God, it had been far too long, and he’d barely dared dream this moment would even come.

Her breasts were still high and plump, each topped with a large pinkish-red nipple and areola. They were firm now, poking out in opposite directions from her freckled chest; Did that mean she was ... aroused? No, it couldn’t be...

Despite the large tent (and growing stain) in Rhys’ own towel, he leant forward to look more closely at at the juncture of her relaxed thighs, at the dark hair there. Was that a glimpse of soft pink, wet with moisture? Or perhaps it was simply the condensation...