Off limits: My Brothers Best friend

The next morning, sunlight poured through the curtains like nothing had changed.

But everything had.

I woke with the ghost of Damien’s kiss still tingling on my lips and a nervous flutter in my stomach that made it impossible to eat breakfast. Mom kept asking if I felt okay. Marcus teased me for being “spacey.” I just smiled weakly and pushed my eggs around the plate, hyper-aware of Damien sitting across the table, calmly drinking coffee like he hadn’t turned my world upside down the night before.

Our eyes met once. Just once.

His gaze was dark, intense, and full of warning. *Act normal.*

I looked away first, cheeks burning.

The day dragged on with forced normalcy, beach walks, swimming, Marcus dragging Damien out for a surf session while I stayed under the umbrella with my book. Every laugh from the water made my chest tighten. Every time Damien emerged from the waves, water streaming down his chest and abs, I had to force myself to look somewhere else.

By late afternoon, the tension had become unbearable.

Marcus announced he was driving into town for supplies and would be gone for a couple of hours. Mom and Dad decided to join him for a quick grocery run, leaving the beach house unusually quiet.

Damien and I were alone.

The moment the car disappeared down the driveway, the air shifted. I was in the kitchen rinsing dishes when I felt him behind me. His presence was like heat at my back.

“Elena.”

His voice was low, rough. I turned slowly, drying my hands on a towel. He stood in the doorway, shirtless again, hair still damp from the ocean, looking every bit the forbidden temptation he was.

“We need to talk,” he said.

My heart raced. “About last night?”

He stepped closer, crowding me against the counter without touching me. “About how I can’t stop thinking about it. About how fucking wrong it is… and how much I still want more.”

I swallowed hard, my shyness warring with the bold rush his words created. “I want more too.”

Damien’s jaw clenched. He braced one hand on the counter beside me, leaning in until our faces were inches apart. “You’re eighteen now. Barely. Marcus trusts me. Your family trusts me. If anyone finds out…”

“I know,” I whispered. “But I don’t care right now.”

His control snapped.

He kissed me hard, backing me fully against the counter. This wasn’t the tentative first kiss from last night. This was hungry, desperate. His hands gripped my waist, pulling me flush against him as his tongue swept into my mouth. I moaned softly, fingers threading through his damp hair, tugging just enough to make him groan.

“God, you make the prettiest sounds,” he murmured against my lips, then trailed hot kisses down my neck. “Been driving me crazy all day.”

One of his hands slid under the hem of my tank top, palm warm against my bare skin. He didn’t go higher than my ribs, but the touch alone sent sparks shooting through me. I arched into him, shy but craving.

“Damien…” I breathed.

He pulled back just enough to look at me, eyes stormy with lust and restraint. “Tell me to stop and I will. Right now.”

I shook my head, biting my lip. “Don’t stop.”

That was all he needed.

He lifted me onto the counter in one smooth motion, stepping between my legs. His mouth claimed mine again while his hands explored, sliding up my thighs, gripping my hips, pulling me closer until I could feel exactly how much he wanted me. The hard press of him against my core made me gasp.

“Fuck, Elena,” he rasped, forehead pressed to mine. “You feel so good. So soft. Been imagining this for months.”

Heat flooded my face, but I didn’t pull away. Instead, I wrapped my legs around his waist, drawing him tighter. Our kisses turned frantic, hands roaming with growing confidence. His fingers slipped under my top, tracing the underside of my breast through my bra, and I whimpered at the new sensation.

We were both breathing hard when the distant sound of a car engine made us freeze.

Marcus. Back already.

Damien cursed under his breath and stepped back, helping me down from the counter. My legs felt like jelly. He smoothed my hair quickly, eyes wild.

“Act normal,” he whispered urgently. “This stays between us. Our secret. Understand?”

I nodded, heart still pounding. “Our secret.”

He pressed one last quick, fierce kiss to my forehead before moving to the living room, grabbing a random magazine like nothing had happened.

I busied myself with the dishes again, cheeks flushed, lips swollen, body still humming with unmet desire.

When Marcus walked in moments later, complaining about traffic, he found us both looking perfectly innocent.

But the spark between Damien and me had officially ignited.

And neither of us wanted to put it out.