"You still look at me like that," Casey said, her voice low and shaky. She stood in the dimly lit kitchen of their old family house, back pressed against the counter. 

The thin summer dress clung to her full breasts and wide hips. Two years apart had done nothing to dull the pull between them.

Taylor froze in the doorway, still sweaty from her evening run. At twenty-seven, her athletic body was tense, toned arms glistening. 

She had only come back to help pack up their parents’ things after the divorce announcement, seeing Casey again hit her harder than expected.

"Like what?" Taylor asked, stepping closer even though every rational...