My Stepbrother's Lust

NINA'S POV

I told myself I was just looking for shelter, not trouble. But trouble opens the door for me, all six feet of it.

The moment I step inside, I know I’ve made a mistake. A beautiful, dangerous mistake.

I'm not supposed to be here, but the universe really said, “Congratulations, Nina! Your reward for graduating is heartbreak and a broken car. And the icing on the cake? No service.”

The storm had raged harder than ever, so when he took a wrong turn, I didn't stop him. I didn't panic.

Maybe I wanted him to hurt me. To tear me apart so it'll all be Jason's fault.

But when the door clicked shut behind me, sealing me in with him, I wasn't sure I wanted to leave.

His house smells clean, expensive, and dangerous in a way that makes my pulse skip.

I should be home crying over my ex, not standing in a stranger’s mansion wondering why his stare feels safer than Jason’s touch ever did.

I follow him upstairs but halt at the bedroom door, nerves tingling.

He shrugs off his shirt and I stifle a gasp, cheeks burning.

God forgive me…this man is so fucking hot. I shouldn't stare, but I do. My eyes trail every ripple of his muscles down to his waistline.

Is it hot in here, or am I burning just looking at him? This stranger whose name I do not know.

He turns. My breath stills.

Forget everything I said about his back. This view is way better.

He steps forward. I'm fighting every nerve screaming to press a palm to that hard chest and God help me, I'm losing.

Now he's handing me his robe. Our fingers brush lightly and a shiver runs down my spine. His gaze drops. He felt it too.

“I'll let you get dressed.” He mutters, brushing past me.

I stare at my reflection in the mirror, clad in his silk robe.

I should take off my wet panties, but I can't risk going butt naked with him. Not with my ovaries staging a riot.

My phone buzzes with another text from Jason.

A dull ache sparks in my chest. Suddenly I'm back in his apartment, staring down at him moaning into that woman's mouth.

His ring burns hot on my finger, but I don't take it off. I have a better idea.

Downstairs, the handsome stranger serves microwaved pizza on paper plates.

I thought heartbreak would numb me. But sitting across from this stranger, I feel too much.

For a man whose house screams money, serving microwaved pizza feels like a plot twist.

His gaze never leaves my face. I chew slowly, praying he doesn't hear the rumble in my stomach.

His food sits untouched, fingers interlaced.

When my plate is polished and I lean back, he breaks the ice.

“What happened to you?”

Where do I start?

“It’s…personal.”

“And you're in my personal space, so I need to make sure you're not a fugitive or a serial killer.”

Oh…

“You're one to talk. I don't even know your name!”

“But you followed me home.”

“You brought me here without even asking…”

“And you didn't stop me.” He smirks, leaning back. “Sorry to say, but you have the survival instincts of a fart.”

My eyes narrow, heat flaring in my chest. He flashes his palms.

“Before you chop my head off, how about I introduce myself? I might change your mind.”

“I'm not counting on it.”

He chuckles, a deep rumbling sound that sparks a low hum in my belly.

“I'm Cassian. Cassian Cross.”

Of course he'd have a hot name. It's evident in the soft pout of his lips and the heat of his stare.

“So…who's the lucky guy?” His jaw tightens, eyes on my fingers.

I know I should have taken the damn thing off.

“He's…not so lucky anymore.”

His eyes glint.

“That'll make me the new lucky guy.”

My heart flutters. Is he…flirting with me?

“That's very confident of you.”

“At least you didn't call me a liar. We're getting somewhere.”

“You can't prove that.”

He leans forward, flame dancing in his eyes.

“I know you were checking me out upstairs.”

My throat clamps shut.

“I wasn't—”

“Shhh…it's okay. I'd stare if I were you.”

Oh this audacious little—

Blood rushes to my face. He just sits there, reveling in my discomfort.

“Don't flatter yourself. You might not be my type, after all.”

“Is that a dare, Nina?” His voice lowers, eyes dark.

My mouth goes cotton dry. Don't do it. Don't poke the bear.

“What if it is? Worried you'd give out too early?”

I'm past thinking. I want him to claim me. Every inch, every breath, every beat of my broken heart.

I want him to make me forget. Just one night. What could possibly go wrong?

He towers over me, eyes everywhere but my face.

“I'll be upstairs. Follow me, if you dare.”

He halts by the stairs, a dark smile curling his lips.

“When you chicken out, just let me know. I'll take the couch.”

Then he's gone.

Outside, the storm rages harder. Wind billows through parted curtains. A cold breeze snakes up my skin.

My fingers grip the counter, heart hammering in my chest.

This is spiraling out of control. No.

I won't get under one man to get over another.

Fuck this. I’m single, I’m graduating, and I deserve a night of reckless passion.

***********

I scale up the stairs, convincing myself that this is right. One night stands are totally normal.

I'm not a stuck up bitch. I want this.

I turn—

And run smack into his hard chest. My feet kiss the air, body reeling backwards.

For a second my life flashes before my eyes, then I'm in his arms, pressed up against his frame.

“Whoa! That was close. You should be more careful next time, angel. I'm not going anywhere.”

A loose strand of hair falls into his face. A faint stubble dots his chin. I ache to brush my fingers against that rough patch.

His arms wrap around me, pulling me closer. My breasts press against his chest, and for a second I swear our heartbeats sync.

“You were coming back for me.” My voice trembles.

“To make sure you don't chicken out.”

He leans in until our foreheads touch, and I'm five seconds away from melting into a puddle.

His breath fans hot against my face, and I smell him—sandalwood and cinnamon—the perfect recipe for disaster.

“Kiss me.” He whispers.

My eyes flutter shut. I can't breathe. Can't think. I only feel him. Only smell him.

So I rise on my tiptoes, arms snaking around his neck.

His lips crush mine, and I feel myself melting.

Just like that, I'm kissing the hot stranger.

He saved me. Now he's ruining me.

And I can't decide which feels better.