Chapter 2

two

. . .

Lila

I step through the front door of my childhood home, the familiar scent of vanilla and lavender engulfing me. Mom rushes over, pulling me into a tight hug. "Lila, honey, welcome home!" She releases me, eyes shining with joy. "Come meet everyone."

I try to mask my frown. I’m not nearly as excited about meeting them as she is for me to meet them.

As she ushers me into the living room, my heart stops. There, standing next to an unfamiliar man who must be my new stepfather, is him .

What the fuck is he doing here?

The gorgeous stranger from the airport—broad shoulders, chiseled jaw, piercing blue eyes that seem to undress me where I stand.

"Lila, this is Richard, your stepfather. And Ethan, your new stepbrother," Mom introduces them, oblivious to the electric tension crackling between Ethan and me.

Stepbrothe r. The word slams into my chest.

I’ve never fainted in my entire life, but I feel like I could pass out right now.

This can't be happening. The man I've been fantasizing about, whose number is saved in my phone, is my stepbrother?

Ethan's eyes rake over my body, a flicker of surprise and unmistakable hunger in his gaze. "Nice to meet you, Lila," he says, voice low and smooth like whiskey, sending shivers down my spine.

I swallow hard, trying to find my voice. "Uh, yeah, you too, Ethan."

His gaze rests on me again, and I fight the urge to kick him. What the fuck is wrong with him? He doesn’t look horrified or anything. He’s looking at me like this changes nothing when clearly it changes everything.

Mom and Richard exchange a glance, clearly picking up on the strained atmosphere. "Well, let's all head to the dining room, shall we? Dinner's ready," Mom suggests, her tone overly bright.

As we take our seats, I can't help but be acutely aware of Ethan's presence beside me. The heat of his body seems to radiate across the small space between us, making my skin prickle with awareness.

Throughout the meal, I feel the weight of Ethan's gaze on me, his attention like a physical caress. I try to focus on the conversation, but my mind keeps drifting to inappropriate thoughts—his hands on my curves, his lips against my throat.

Darting a glance in his direction, I catch him staring at me, his blue eyes smoldering with barely restrained desire. I quickly look away, my cheeks flushing hot. I shouldn't want him, not like this.

It's wrong.

But as dinner progresses, the tension between us only grows thicker, more palpable. Each time our eyes meet, it's like a silent conversation, a forbidden promise of things to come. We don't say a word, but the air crackles with unspoken temptation.

By the time we finish eating, my body is wound tight, aching for something I know I can't have. Ethan is my stepbrother, and whatever this intense, instant connection between us is, it can't happen. It just can't.

Can it?

The dark house settles around me, the silence broken only by the soft ticking of the clock on my bedside table. I toss and turn, tangled in my sheets, unable to quiet my racing thoughts. Ethan's face fills my mind—the sharp angles of his jaw, the sensual curve of his lips, those piercing blue eyes that seem to see straight into my soul.

Frustrated, I kick off the covers and slip out of bed. Maybe a snack will help. My tummy grumbles loudly at the thought. I barely picked at my dinner because I was so wound up over Ethan.

I pad downstairs on bare feet, the cool hardwood floors sending shivers up my spine. As I round the corner into the kitchen, I freeze.

Ethan stands at the counter, his back to me, wearing nothing but a pair of low-slung sweatpants. The muscles of his shoulders and back ripple as he reaches for a glass from the cupboard. My mouth goes dry, my pulse thrumming in my ears.

He turns, and our eyes lock. Surprise flickers across his face, quickly replaced by something darker, hungrier. "Lila," he says, his voice a low rumble that sends heat coursing through my veins.

"I...I couldn't sleep," I stammer, suddenly acutely aware of my thin tank top and shorts. "I thought I'd get a snack."

Then I instantly hate myself because why am I explaining myself to him? This is my home—not his.

Ethan's gaze rakes over me, lingering on the curves of my breasts, my hips. "Looks like we had the same idea."

He takes a step closer, and I instinctively back up until I'm pressed against the counter. He braces his hands on either side of me, caging me in. I can feel the heat radiating off his bare chest, smell the intoxicating scent of his skin.

"Ethan stop," I whisper, even as my body arches toward his.

“Stop what?” He blicks at me innocently.

I motion between us. “This.”

“Why?” He’s obstinately stubborn.

“B-because,” I stutter. "It's wrong."

"Is it?" His breath fans across my cheek as he leans in, his lips a hairsbreadth from mine. "Then why does it feel so right?"

I close my eyes, fighting the urge to surrender, to let him take what we both so desperately want. "Ethan, please..."

He pulls back slightly, his expression torn. "Tell me to stop, Lila. Tell me you don't want this, and I'll walk away."

I open my mouth, but no words come out. Because the truth is, I do want this. I want him, with every fiber of my being.

But I can't. We can't.

Ethan sees the answer in my eyes. With a muttered curse, he pushes away from the counter and stalks out of the kitchen, leaving me shaken and aching with unfulfilled need.

I stumble back to my room, my heart pounding, my skin tingling with the memory of his touch. As I crawl into bed, I know one thing with absolute certainty.

I'm in trouble. Big, big trouble.