Sunlight burned through my eyelids, forcing me awake. My head pounded from the vodka, and for a second I forgot where I was. The sheets smelled like him—clean, sharp cologne mixed with something darker, male, forbidden.
Then it hit me.
Adrian. His hands. His mouth. The way I'd fallen apart under him, begging without a word.
I jolted upright, heart racing. The bed was empty now, the space beside me cold, but the memories were anything but. My dress was still bunched around my hips, my panties tugged awkwardly back into place. Shame crawled up my skin.
God. What the hell had I done?
I scrambled off the bed, tiptoeing down the hall to my own room like a thief in my own house. A shower didn't wash it away, not the taste of him on my lips or the ache between my legs. Not even close.
By the time I made it downstairs, my hair damp and tied back, the smell of coffee drifted through the kitchen. And there he was.
Adrian leaned against the counter in a black T-shirt and grey sweatpants, sipping from a mug like nothing had happened. His dark eyes flicked up to me, and for a second, his lips curved just enough to let me know he remembered every detail.
"Morning, sunshine," he said, voice smooth, casual. Too casual.
I froze in the doorway, clutching the hem of my hoodie like a shield. "Morning," I muttered, heading for the fridge.
He didn't move, just watched me like he was amused by my pathetic attempt at normal. The silence stretched, thick and heavy, until I almost slammed the fridge shut just to break it.
"You sleep well?" he asked finally.
My grip tightened on the carton of juice. "In my own room, yes."
His smirk widened. He set his mug down, stepping closer, way too close for comfort. "Funny. I could've sworn I heard you moaning in mine."
Heat shot to my cheeks. I spun around, glaring at him, but he was already right there, leaning one hand on the counter beside me, trapping me.
"You're disgusting," I hissed.
His gaze dropped to my mouth, and for a second, I thought he might kiss me again right there in the kitchen. Instead, he leaned in until his lips brushed my ear.
"Maybe," he whispered, his breath hot on my skin. "But you liked it."
A shiver ran through me, and I hated myself for it. Hated him even more for noticing.
I shoved past him, heart slamming in my chest. But his laugh followed me, low and satisfied, like he'd already won a game I didn't even want to play.
I hid in the living room, juice clutched in my hands, flipping through TV channels I wasn't even watching. Anything to ignore the way my skin still burned from his whisper.
But ignoring Adrian was impossible when he moved through the house like he owned it. His presence filled every space, every corner. The floorboards creaked under his heavy steps, reminding me I wasn't safe, not even in daylight.
He wandered in a few minutes later, stretching lazily before dropping onto the couch beside me. Too close. The cushions dipped under his weight, his thigh brushing mine.
I jerked my legs away. "Don't you have somewhere to be?"
"Nope." He propped his feet up on the table, grabbing the remote from my hands without asking. "Parents are gone till Monday. It's just us."
The words made my stomach flip. Just us. Alone.
"I have homework," I lied, standing up too quickly.
His hand shot out, catching my wrist. Heat shot through me at the contact. I froze, staring down at his fingers wrapped around me.
"You really gonna pretend last night didn't happen?" His voice was low, serious now.
"Yes," I snapped, trying to tug free.
His grip tightened, just enough to hold me in place. "Because I can't stop thinking about it."
My heart stuttered. His eyes pinned me down, dark and unreadable, the smirk gone. He wasn't teasing anymore. He meant every word.
"Adrian—"
"You came apart in my hands, Lila. Don't you dare stand here and tell me you didn't love every second."
Heat rushed to my face. The memory flooded back—the way I'd begged without words, the way my body had betrayed me.
I yanked my hand free, voice shaking. "It was a mistake. I was drunk."
He stood, closing the space between us until my back hit the wall. His hand planted beside my head, caging me in. His breath ghosted over my cheek, his body radiating heat I couldn't ignore.
"You weren't that drunk," he murmured. "You knew exactly what you were doing."
"I didn't—"
His finger pressed to my lips, silencing me. My whole body trembled.
"Don't lie to me. Not when I can still hear the way you moaned my name."
My chest rose and fell in shallow bursts. The worst part was, he was right. I couldn't forget the way I'd said his name, like a plea, like a sin.
"Stop," I whispered, though my voice sounded weak, unconvincing.
His lips curved into a dangerous smile. "You don't want me to stop."
And God help me, I wasn't sure I did.
His face dipped lower, so close that I felt the brush of his breath against my mouth. My lips parted without permission, a traitor's response to temptation.
"Adrian…" It came out like a plea, weak and trembling.
He tilted his head, his nose grazing mine, his mouth hovering over mine in dangerous territory. "Say it again."
My knees nearly buckled. I wanted to shove him away, but my palms pressed against his chest instead—solid muscle, warm under the thin fabric of his t-shirt. His heartbeat thudded steady and strong, the opposite of my frantic pulse.
"You're—my stepbrother." The words tumbled out, desperate, like they could save me.
He only smiled, slow and wicked. "Doesn't sound like it bothers you when you're wet for me."
My stomach twisted, heat pooling between my thighs as shame and desire warred inside me. I pushed harder at his chest, but he caught my wrists, pinning them above my head in one swift move. The wall was cool at my back, but my body burned where his pressed into mine.
"Adrian, stop—"
"Tell me you don't want this, and I'll stop." His voice was a whisper now, hot and lethal. "Lie to me, Lila. Say it."
But the words lodged in my throat. I couldn't say it, not when my body betrayed me so badly, arching into his hold, craving him like oxygen.
His mouth lowered, brushing mine—barely a kiss, more a promise of one. The tension strung tight between us, ready to snap. I could taste him, feel the dangerous pull. My whole body leaned forward, desperate for more.
And then—
The front door slammed.
We jerked apart like guilty criminals. My heart shot to my throat, pounding louder than the sound of footsteps in the hall.
"Mom?" My voice cracked.
No answer—just the sound of a bag hitting the floor. Then silence.
Adrian's smirk returned, though his chest rose and fell fast like mine. He leaned close, lips brushing the shell of my ear. "Saved by the bell. For now."
He let go of my wrists, stepping back casually, as if he hadn't just pinned me to the wall, as if he hadn't just stolen the breath from my lungs.
I stood there trembling, pulse racing, lips swollen from almost being kissed. My whole body screamed for him while my mind begged me to run.
He glanced over his shoulder as he walked toward the kitchen, his voice casual, taunting. "Careful, Lila. Next time, I won't let you off so easily."
And then he was gone, leaving me shaking against the wall, craving what I swore I'd never want again.
That night, sleep didn't come easily.
I lay in bed, staring at the ceiling, replaying every second of the day. The way he'd pressed me to the wall. The way his voice had wrapped around me like a chain I couldn't break.
Worst of all—the way I hadn't told him no.
I squeezed my eyes shut, throwing the blanket over my head like that could smother the heat pulsing inside me. But it didn't help. My skin still tingled where his hands had pinned me, where his breath had ghosted my lips.
"God, I'm so messed up," I whispered into the dark.
Because no matter how hard I tried to deny it, my body wanted him. Every nerve screamed for the thing I wasn't allowed to crave.
The house was quiet, almost too quiet. Our parents still weren't home. It should have been comforting, but instead it made me restless. Vulnerable.
A creak split the silence.
My head jerked toward the door.
It opened slowly, the shadows shifting—and then he was there. Adrian. Leaning against the frame, like he owned even the darkness.
My breath caught. "What are you doing here?"
He didn't answer right away. Just watched me, eyes glinting in the faint light from the hallway. Then he stepped inside, closing the door behind him.
The lock clicked.
My pulse exploded. "Adrian—"
"Couldn't sleep." His voice was low, rougher than usual, like he was holding something back. "Kept thinking about you. About how close I was to tasting you."
My thighs squeezed together under the blanket. He noticed—of course he did. His smirk deepened.
"Move over."
I shook my head, panic flaring. "No. You can't—"
But he was already at the edge of the bed, tugging at the blanket. My hands fisted it tight, heart hammering.
"Relax, Lila," he murmured, leaning closer until his lips brushed my ear. "I'm not gonna take what you're not ready to give."
My whole body shivered. The worst part was, I almost wished he would.
He slid onto the mattress beside me anyway, his heat sinking into the sheets, his scent filling my lungs. His arm brushed mine, and I swore sparks shot through my veins.
"This is wrong," I whispered.
"Yeah." He turned his head, his mouth inches from mine. "So why does it feel so good?"
The air between us thickened, heavy and electric. His hand lifted, hovering just above my waist, not touching, but close enough that my skin ached for it.
I held my breath, waiting for him to close the distance.
And then—black screen. The chapter ended, leaving me drowning in tension, knowing this was only the beginning.