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  Tight

  Jenika Snow

  Contents

  Synopsis

  Chapter One

  Chapter Two

  Chapter Three

  Chapter Four

  Chapter Five

  Chapter Six

  Chapter Seven

  Chapter Eight

  Chapter Nine

  Chapter Ten

  Chapter Eleven

  Chapter Twelve

  Chapter Thirteen

  Chapter Fourteen

  Chapter Fifteen

  Chapter Sixteen

  Chapter Seventeen

  Chapter Eighteen

  Chapter Nineteen

  Chapter Twenty

  Chapter Twenty-One

  Chapter Twenty-Two

  Chapter Twenty-Three

  Epilogue

  About the Author

  TIGHT

  By Jenika Snow

  www.JenikaSnow.com

  [email protected]

  Copyright © February 2019 by Jenika Snow

  Photographer: Wander Aguiar

  Cover Model” Andrew Biernat

  Image provided by: Wander book club

  Cover design by: Designs by Dana

  Editor: Kasi Alexander

  Proofreader: Read by Rose

  ALL RIGHTS RESERVED: The unauthorized reproduction, transmission, or distribution of any part of this copyrighted work is illegal. Criminal copyright infringement is investigated by the FBI and is punishable by up to five years in federal prison and a fine of $250,000.

  This literary work is fiction. Any name, places, characters and incidents are the product of the author’s imagination. Any resemblance to actual persons, living or dead, events or establishments is solely coincidental.

  Please respect the author and do not participate in or encourage piracy of copyrighted materials that would violate the author’s rights.

  Kennedy

  I’d fallen the moment I laid eyes on Roman.

  Arrogant and intelligent, gorgeous and independent, he was someone who wouldn’t have ever shown me the time of day. He would never have noticed me.

  But when my father married his aunt, when we became family, all that changed.

  The way he looked at me and the little touches told me that maybe he wanted me the same way I did him. Or maybe it was my feelings that clouded reality, that made me see what I wanted?

  Maybe one day I’d have the nerve to admit that I was in love with him. Or maybe I was too afraid to ever utter those words.

  Roman

  All it had taken was one look at her to stop my heart, one smile to have me falling in love.

  My complete opposite, she was shy and reserved, with her nose in a book and a smile that could light up a room. Kennedy was everything I wanted, and all the things I couldn’t have.

  Family by marriage.

  Those three words meant a hell of a lot, could ruin everything. If my true feelings came out, I knew that our lives would be forever changed, and maybe not for the better.

  It was because of that fear, how loving Kennedy would be seen as wrong, that I had kept my mouth shut about how I’d felt this whole time.

  But we only live once, and every day it became harder to accept that she wasn’t mine.

  That was about to change. I was about to change it all.

  Not having her in my life in the way I imagined—fantasized—was not something I was going to live with anymore.

  Screw what anyone said. I was finally going to tell Kennedy that I loved her, that she’d always been mine.

  Chapter One

  Roman

  I was going to hell for the things I thought about Kennedy, for the filthy fucking things I wanted to do to her body.

  And if I wasn’t going to hell, the very least was I’d get my ass kicked by her father, who happened to be married to my aunt.

  Was it taboo to want to fuck your step-cousin? Hell, I didn’t care if it was, because I wanted Kennedy so damn much, I found myself masturbating nightly to the image of her.

  “And how is school going, Roman?”

  I had tunnel vision where she was concerned, had for the last two years. We’d both been eighteen when we’d met, when she’d become part of our family. And ever since then I hadn’t wanted anyone else but her.

  Kennedy was on her phone, and I couldn’t stop staring at her fingers, at the way she’d painted her nails this light peachy color. It seemed so innocent, but sexy at the same time.

  I wanted to wreck that innocence.

  I imagined her hand, so small compared to mine, wrapped around my dick, squeezing the life out of it. God, I’d jerked off to that image so many times that I’d made my cock raw from it.

  Even though I was sporting wood right now, my jeans becoming increasingly tight, the table blocked the view, had my obscene perversions hidden from my family.

  “Roman, your aunt Catherine is talking to you.”

  I turned and looked at my mother, who sat at the head of the table. My father was to her left, Kennedy beside him. I glanced at my step-uncle, Victor, watching me as if he’d known the filthy fucking things I’d just been thinking. I cleared my throat and straightened, looking away from him to glance at my aunt.

  She smiled and picked up her wine glass, taking a small sip from it.

  “I’m sorry, what did you ask?” I didn’t hear you because I was imaging parting Kennedy’s thighs and sliding my cock deep in her tight pussy.

  Fuck, I was going to hell.

  I ran my hands up and down my denim-clad thighs, the sweat starting to bead along my spine as I felt everyone stare at me. Any other day I wouldn’t care, but the fact I was with family put me in an awkward position.

  How long had I been staring at Kennedy while everyone waited for me to answer my Aunt Catherine’s question?

  Shit.

  “I asked how school was going.” She set her wine glass down and the room was silent as everyone waited for me to answer.

  I cleared my throat and shrugged. “It’s going.”

  “And work? You’re managing the shop now?”

  “They promoted me to lead mechanic. More pay and responsibility, but that also means more hours.”

  “Why don’t you just do school full-time? Then you can get a real job.” Victor said and I clenched my teeth.

  “Victor,” my aunt hissed out.

  Victor, my step-uncle and Kennedy’s father, was a man who had been in my life for the past two years, and who had a cold, hard exterior if you weren’t in his inner circle.

  The gruffness of his voice could’ve skinned me alive. And the way he looked at me, the hard set of his jaw, the narrowing of his eyes, told me he might very well have guessed what I’d been thinking about when I was staring at his daughter.

  “With all due respect, lead mechanic is a real job.” I leaned back in my chair and stared at him.

  At twenty I might not be some preppy college guy, but I worked fucking hard, made good money, took some courses here and there for my education, and had my own place. I was sure I was handling my shit pretty well.

  “In fact, I can come over this weekend and help you fix that alternator. Heard it was giving you issues but you were having trouble fixing it yourself.”

  I should have kept my mouth shut, but here I was running it, my ego stinging from the whole “real job” comment he’d delivered in front of everyone, especially the girl of my fucking dreams.

  The room was eerily silent, the air thick because I’d dropped that little fucking bomb. And then my uncle tipped his head back and laughed, a deep, hearty one that instantly had everyone relaxing. But I hadn’t been joking. He’d pissed me off with his comment so I’d come back a little harder, but apparently, he thought I was teasing.

  He smacked his
hand on the table and the silverware shot up as he continued to laugh.

  I looked back at Kennedy because, well, because it was her.

  Since she’d come into my life, she was all I wanted. I couldn’t even understand why I’d fallen so hard and instantly for her. We were polar opposites, still were, if I were being honest. She was a bookworm, this good girl. I was this rowdy bad boy who didn’t do well with authority and got into more trouble than my parents liked.

  Hell, I still was that, I just wasn’t living under my parents’ roof anymore to give them grief over it.

  But when I was with her I felt calmer, better about myself. I felt whole.

  And it had been two years of me longing for her, not even sure how I would ever admit my feelings, tell her that I was so hard up for her, so in love with her, I was driving myself insane.

  She looked up at me from the black-rimmed glasses sliding down her tiny nose. She pushed the frames up, straightened a little, and gave me a small smile, as if she found me talking to her father like that amusing.

  But it was that smile that had my heart racing, that had my cock coming alive once more. I could’ve groaned, watching as she picked up a piece of watermelon from her plate and took a bite out of it. My mother was saying something to her, but my focus was on Kennedy’s lips wrapped around that piece of red flesh, the soft sound of her teeth crunching into it, the small droplet of watermelon juice sliding down her chin.

  I wanted to lean forward and lick that bead of juice away, to run my tongue along her skin, which I had no doubt was as sweet as that watermelon she ate.

  I curled my hands on the edge of the chair, my nails digging into the wood. I needed to get out of here or I was liable to come right in my jeans like a damn teenager.

  I excused myself and took my plate into the kitchen, knowing that staying any longer would just be torture for me. I headed out the front door and once I was on the porch, I leaned against the banister, gripping the railing tightly and closing my eyes as I tried to grapple with my control. My dick throbbed behind my jeans, and my balls were drawn up tight.

  I should just leave, but here I was not wanting to go because Kennedy was inside, because all I wanted to do was pull her to the side, cup her face, and kiss her until she was breathless and holding on to me. I wanted to do that and more, wanted to tell her that I’d fallen in love with her, that I’d do anything to make us work.

  But like a fucking pussy, I stayed back, kept how I felt to myself, and knew that crossing that line would more than likely end up putting a rift in our families and destroying the relationship we did have.

  Chapter Two

  Kennedy

  I helped Catherine clean up, my mind on Roman. Since I’d met him—fallen for him—I had kept my feelings for him a secret, kept them buried so deep inside of me that sometimes I was even surprised by the depths of them. And when I allowed them to resurface, they took my breath away.

  “Thanks for the help, sweetie.”

  I smiled and nodded at Catherine and left the kitchen, needing to run, to work off all this wild energy inside of me.

  I went over to the front door and sat on the little bench in the foyer, putting on my running shoes. I needed to get out of here for a little bit, the stress, although it had only lasted a few moments, was exhausting. But then again, that was my father.

  He was a hard man to love, but he loved hard. And because of his strong personality, he tended to make people uncomfortable with his brashness. Him saying that to Roman had been a jab, and I’d wanted to call him out on it.

  I saw how hard Roman worked, knew that just because he wasn’t going to school full-time, my father saw that as a failure.

  But just as I’d been about to say something to my dad, to put him in his place more or less, Roman had stood up for himself, like he always did. And that was one of the traits I loved so much about him.

  He didn’t put up with shit. He might be a bad boy and have the reputation to match, one I’d heard about as soon as my dad and I had moved in with Catherine, but it was that trait that drew me to him.

  We were total opposites, but I felt like we were the same as well.

  Outcasts.

  He had a tarnished background.

  I was an introvert and distant from everyone.

  The same but different. Perfect for each other even though I’d never admit how I felt.

  Once I had my shoes on, I opened the front door, my focus on my hands as I brought up the playlist on my phone. I ran into a very big, hard body, stumbling backwards and dropping my phone. Before it crashed to the porch, a very masculine hand caught it, lifting it up and handing it back to me.

  I lifted my head, my gaze pinned on his very narrow waist, one that had very defined abs. I could see the ridges and dips of that six-pack through his white T-shirt. I let my gaze travel higher, over a wide chest and broad shoulders, and I finally looked at Roman.

  I’d just been checking him out and he’d seen it all.

  My face heated and I looked away, embarrassed.

  I had assumed he’d left, but he’d been out here this whole time?

  I looked back at him and pushed my glasses up the bridge of my nose, my ponytail blowing slightly as the wind picked up.

  “Careful there,” he said in that deep voice of his, one I’d dreamed about more times than I wanted to admit.

  “I thought you’d left,” I said softly. He probably thought I was shy and awkward because I was this geeky girl. But the truth was, I was like this because of him, because of how I felt for Roman. It was complicated and consuming.

  “I was going to, but I got a call from the shop. I was just hanging out here until I finished.” He smirked, just the corner of his mouth kicking up.

  I felt my heart beat a little bit harder at that sight. I nodded and licked my lips, looking away again, focusing down the street and on my run. I was trying to concentrate on something other than him standing right in front of me, the scent of his cologne intoxicating.

  We stood there for long moments, neither of us speaking, but my awkwardness increasing, no doubt. I started to feel sweaty, nervous standing in front of Roman, my arousal too strong. And the way he watched me was almost… intimate.

  I cleared my throat and took a step back on instinct. He was much bigger than me, well over six feet tall. He was like a giant compared to my short five-foot frame. His body was hard, defined and lean, a specimen of male perfection.

  God, now I sounded like a textbook.

  Time for me to go before I made a fool out of myself.

  I took one more glance at him before giving him a smile that probably looked a little too forced. “See you around, Roman.”

  I headed down the porch and started at a slow jog, feeling his gaze on me the entire way. I looked over my shoulder to see him watching me, his look almost ... feral.

  It was only when I was down the street and around the corner that I stopped and braced my hands on my knees, sucking in a lungful of air that had nothing to do with me running and everything to do with Roman Silvers.

  Chapter Three

  Roman

  I reached over to my toolbox and dug around for the half-inch ratchet. Once I found the tool, I got back to work underneath the hood of the car.

  I moved the matchstick I had in my mouth to the other side, keeping it between my lips and teeth as I worked on the engine. Keeping a matchstick in my mouth while I worked was a nervous habit I’d picked up at the shop. That, coupled with my grease-stained coveralls, made me look stereotypical as fuck.

  The sound of classic rock pumping through the speakers in the corner of the garage couldn’t drown out my thoughts. I should be focusing on the task at hand, getting this engine up and running because it was due for delivery to the customer by the end of the week.

  But the only thing I could think about was Kennedy.

  It was always about her.

  I was finding it harder each day to keep my distance and not admit how I felt for h
er. Two years was a hell of a long time to keep a secret that you were madly in love with someone.

  It was a hell of a lot of time to be celibate, too, especially given the fact she was the only one who did it for me.

  I couldn’t even look at another girl without comparing her to Kennedy. If I were being totally honest, looking at any other female disgusted me.

  So, for years I’d pined after a girl I shouldn’t technically want, couldn’t really have.

  Because being with her, my step-cousin, would no doubt complicate a shitload of things.

  I got up under the engine and started tweaking it. My fingers were a bit too big, and I jammed one into a sharp edge. Cursing and pulling my hand out, I looked down at the gouge, blood welling up from the wound.

  “Fuck.”

  “You okay, man?”

  I glanced up at Jacks, who was currently working under the hood of a cherried-out 1960 Chevy Impala. “I’m good,” I said as I made my way toward the sink off to the side.

  I cleaned off the wound and reached for the first aid kit, which was on a little shelf above the sink. I fished out a bandage, wrapped it around my finger, and turned to see Jacks standing behind me. “Damn, close enough? What’s up?”

  He was looking at me weird, as if he had something on his mind. Grease was smeared around his neck and on one side of his cheek, his hands covered in black from working on the Impala all day.

  “You’re acting weird, like weirder than normal,” he finally said, and walked past me to wash off his hands in the sink. “Like, been acting weird these last couple of days.” He looked over his shoulder at me. “Why don’t you tell me what’s up?”