Before Me:Spin off of Billionaire's heart

SEDUCING MY STEPBROTHER

Chapter 1: The Arrival

The front door clicked shut behind me with a finality that made my stomach twist. I dropped my suitcase in the foyer, the wheels squeaking against polished marble.

Mom's new house — correction, our new house — was everything she'd always dreamed of: soaring ceilings, floor-to-ceiling windows letting in late-afternoon sun, and that sterile scent of fresh paint mixed with leather and whatever cologne rich people buy by the gallon.

I hadn't been back since the wedding six months ago. College kept me away, and honestly? I preferred it that way. But summer break had other plans, and here I was, moving in for the next few weeks until the dorms reopened.

Mom and her new husband — Charles, the silver-fox billionaire type — were already gone. Some weekend conference in the city.

"Business trip," the note on the kitchen counter said, all bubbly handwriting and heart emojis. "Make yourself at home, sweetie! Alex is around if you need anything. Love you!"

Alex.

My stepbrother.

I'd seen him at the wedding: tall, broad-shouldered, dark hair falling just right, tattoos peeking from under his suit cuffs.

He'd barely spoken to me then — just a nod, a half-smile that didn't reach his eyes. But I'd felt it. The way his gaze lingered when he thought I wasn't looking. Like he was cataloging every inch of me.

I shook it off. Stupid. He was family now. Off-limits. Wrong in every way that mattered.

I hauled my bag upstairs, following the hallway to the guest room Mom had texted about. But the door at the end of the hall was open, music drifting out — low, bass-heavy, the kind that vibrates in your chest.

I shouldn't have looked.

Alex stood in what must be his room, shirtless, back to me as he towel-dried his hair.

Water droplets trailed down the ridges of his spine, over the ink that covered his shoulders — dark, intricate lines I couldn't make out from here.

Sweatpants hung low, exposing the dip of his hips, the V that disappeared beneath the waistband.

My mouth went dry.

He turned, catching me staring. No surprise on his face. Just that same slow, predatory smile from the wedding.

"Mia." My name rolled off his tongue like he'd been practicing it. Deep, rough. "Didn't hear you come in."

I swallowed. "Just got here. Mom said you'd be around."

He tossed the towel aside, stepping closer. The room smelled like him — clean soap, something woodsy and dark. "They left an hour ago. Said to keep an eye on you."

His eyes flicked down my body — tank top, denim shorts, flip-flops still dusty from the drive. "Looks like you could use a shower."

Heat crawled up my neck. "I'm fine."

"Are you?" He leaned against the doorframe, arms crossing over his chest. Muscles flexed. "You look... tense."

I forced a laugh. "Long drive. Jet lag or whatever."

"Liar." He pushed off the frame, closing half the distance. Not touching. Not yet. But close enough I could feel the warmth radiating off him.

"I remember how you looked at me at the wedding. Those big eyes following me around the dance floor. Thought maybe it was the champagne. But nah. You're still looking."

My heart slammed against my ribs. "You're imagining things."

"Am I?" His voice dropped. "Tell me to back off, little sis. Say the word."

The nickname hit like a spark. Little sis. It should have disgusted me. Instead, it sent a shameful pulse straight between my legs.

I didn't say anything.

He chuckled, low and dark. "That's what I figured." His fingers brushed my arm — light, testing. Goosebumps erupted. "Unpack. Settle in. Dinner's on me later. Unless you'd rather hide in your room all weekend."

He stepped back, giving me space. But his eyes promised he wasn't done.

I fled to my room, door slamming harder than intended. Leaned against it, breathing hard. My nipples were tight against my bra. My panties... damp.

This was insane. Forbidden. He was my stepbrother.

But Gosh, the way he'd looked at me...

I unpacked in a daze, trying to ignore the ache building low in my belly. Every creak of the house made me jump, wondering if it was him.

By evening, the sun had dipped low, painting the house gold. I changed into a loose sundress — innocent, right? — and padded downstairs.

Alex was in the kitchen, sleeves rolled up, chopping vegetables like it was nothing. Muscles shifted under his forearms. He glanced up.

"Hungry?"

The double meaning hung there.

"Yeah," I said, voice steadier than I felt. "Starving."

He smirked. "Good. Sit."

Dinner was quiet at first. Small talk about school, his work, something vague in finance, probably shady. But under the table, his knee brushed mine. Once. Twice. Deliberate.

I didn't move away.

After, he cleared the plates while I watched. The way he moved — confident, controlled — made my skin prickle.

"You okay?" he asked, drying his hands.

"Fine."

He stepped around the island. Closer. "You sure? You've been squirming all night."

I froze. "I haven't—"

"You have." He tilted my chin up with one finger. "Every time I look at you, your thighs press together. Like you're trying to hide how wet you are."

My breath hitched. "Alex..."

"Say stop." His thumb traced my lower lip. "Or don't."

I didn't.

His mouth crashed down — hard, demanding. Tongue sweeping in, claiming. I moaned, hands fisting his shirt.

He lifted me onto the counter like I weighed nothing, stepping between my legs.

"Fuck, Mia," he growled against my neck. "Been thinking about this since the wedding. About spreading you out and tasting every inch."

His hand slid up my thigh, under the dress. Fingers grazed the edge of my panties. Soaked.

"Gosh. All this for your stepbrother?" He rubbed slow circles over the fabric, right on my clit. "Tell me you want it."

"I... we shouldn't—"

"But you do." He pushed the lace aside, one finger sliding through my folds. "Say it."

"I want it," I whispered.

He groaned, sinking a finger inside me. Slow. Deep. Curling. "Good girl."

I arched, gasping. His mouth found my throat, sucking a mark I'd have to hide tomorrow.

But he pulled back too soon. Fingers glistening as he licked them clean, eyes locked on mine.

"Not here. Not yet." He set me down, steadying me when my legs wobbled. "Go upstairs. Think about what you just admitted."

He kissed me once — soft, almost sweet — then turned away.

I stumbled to my room, body on fire, mind reeling.

What the hell was I doing?