Mag-log inI swore I’d get through the weekend without touching him.
Swore I’d play it cool—go to the party, smile at the right people, keep a safe distance from Jace Carter and all the things he made my body feel.
But the second I saw him across the room—black shirt hugging his chest, smirk aimed at girls who shouldn’t even be looking at him—I forgot every single one of my rules.
We were at Mason Blake’s house. A graduation blowout. Packed bodies, loud music, red cups sloshing beer on polished floors. The kind of party where everyone came to forget who they were.
And I came to forget that Jace was technically my stepbrother.
He was surrounded by people. Of course. He always was. Tall, cocky, built like trouble. He pulled attention like gravity. Girls leaned in when he talked. Guys mirrored his smirk like they wanted to be him.
I hated how easy it was for him.
And I hated that his eyes found mine before I could look away.
He didn’t smile.
He didn’t wave.
He just watched.
Like I was the only thing in the room that mattered.
I downed the rest of my drink and turned away, heart racing. I wasn’t going to do this. Not here. Not in front of people who’d lose their minds if they knew what happened in my bed last night—or in the pantry that afternoon.
But Jace didn’t care about being careful.
When I stepped outside for air, he followed.
I heard the sliding door close softly behind me. Felt him at my back.
“You’ve been avoiding me.”
“You’ve been flirting with everything in a skirt,” I snapped, not turning.
“I was watching you the whole time.”
That stopped me.
I turned slowly. His eyes were on fire, jaw tight, chest rising under his shirt like he was trying not to snap.
“I told myself I’d stay away tonight,” I said.
“Same.”
I crossed my arms. “We’re not good at keeping promises.”
He stepped closer. “Tell me to stop.”
“No.”
“Tell me to leave you alone.”
“Can’t.”
He reached for me, slow and careful—like he knew I’d break apart the second he touched me. His fingers brushed my waist, slid under my shirt, finding bare skin.
“You’re not wearing a bra,” he said hoarsely.
“I don’t wear one for you anymore.”
He kissed me.
It wasn’t soft. It wasn’t sweet.
It was filthy.
Hungry.
Mine.
I gasped as he pressed me back against the side of the house, his hands gripping my hips, lifting me until my legs wrapped around him.
“We’re going to get caught,” I whispered.
“I don’t care.”
He pulled my shorts aside, already rock hard against my center. I wasn’t wearing panties. Again.
“You do this on purpose,” he growled.
“Maybe.”
He groaned, pushing inside me in one smooth thrust. I cried out, burying my face in his neck.
God, he felt so good.
The thrill of it—the danger, the open air, the party inside—it made everything sharper. Better. Hotter.
He moved fast, hard, slamming me against the wall with each thrust, like he couldn’t control himself.
“You’re mine,” he gritted against my ear. “Say it.”
“I’m yours.”
He bit my shoulder. “Again.”
“I’m yours. I’m—oh my God—Jace—”
I came hard, digging my nails into his back, thighs tightening around his waist. He followed seconds later with a deep, guttural sound that made me shiver.
We stayed like that—pressed against the wall, bodies locked together—until the music inside grew louder and someone yelled from the kitchen.
We jumped apart, breathless.
Clothes adjusted. Mouths swollen. Hearts wrecked.
Jace brushed hair from my face. “You okay?”
I nodded. “That was insane.”
“You loved it.”
I didn’t deny it.
But as we walked back in separately, I saw something I didn’t expect.
Avery. By the stairs.
Watching us.
Her arms were crossed, expression unreadable. But her eyes? Ice.
She knew.
Maybe not everything.
But enough.
And just like that, the danger got real.
---
The Next Morning
I stayed in my room. Door locked. Curtains drawn.
I didn’t want to face the mess we made. Didn’t want to wonder if Avery would open her big mouth. Didn’t want to think about how fast this was spiraling out of control.
My phone buzzed.
Jace: Come outside. Now.
I hesitated.
Then I slipped on a hoodie and stepped out onto the back porch.
The tension between us had been unbearable all weekend.Not the quiet, peaceful kind the kind that made my heart pound, my palms sweat, and every glance feel like fire.Jace hadn’t left his room, and I barely left mine. Every time we passed in the hallway, our eyes met for just a second, and it was enough to make me shiver.By Monday morning, the whole house felt like a trap.Mom was humming in the kitchen, Dad buried in emails, and Jace was at the table with a scowl that could have cut glass. He barely looked at me, but I could feel his stare burning into my back like a brand.I sat down opposite him, trying to act casual. But the air between us was thick, electric.Finally, he spoke. Low. Rough. “We can’t keep doing this… and pretending it’s nothing.”I swallowed hard. “Then what are we supposed to do?”He leaned forward, eyes dark, every muscle in his body tense. “We stop pretending we don’t want each other. We stop pretending it’s safe.”My chest tightened. “It’s not safe.”“No. I
Two days.That’s how long we lasted after my mom almost caught us.Two days of silence.Two days of avoiding eye contact. Of locking our doors. Of pretending nothing had happened on that couch. That he hadn’t been inside me while she stood ten feet away.And then it came.A single message.From Avery.One photo.And one line:“She deserves to know.”I saw it on Jace’s phone first.Then I saw the same message land on mine.And then my mom’s scream from the kitchen.I bolted down the stairs just in time to find her standing by the counter, phone shaking in her hand.The photo.Of me. Straddling Jace.Our mouths open. Our bodies bare. Faces blurred, but the meaning unmistakable.My dad stood beside her, face unreadable, until he turned to Jace who was standing frozen halfway down the hall.“Get out,” my dad said coldly.“Wait” Jace started.“Get out of this house. Out of our lives.”He didn’t yell.He didn’t need to.My mom turned to me next, her voice brittle. “Tell me this isn’t real.”
"You think he loves you?” Avery’s voice cracked with something between anger and heartbreak. “He’s obsessed with the idea of it. Not you.”Her words sliced through me.But Jace didn’t flinch.He stepped in front of me, shielding me like she was fire.“Don’t talk to her,” he said. Low. Sharp. Lethal.Avery’s lip curled. “You really think this ends well for you?”“I don’t care how it ends,” he growled. “I just care that it’s her.”Her eyes glistened, and for a moment, I saw it: the betrayal behind her venom. She didn’t just hate me.She was in love with him.“You were supposed to be mine,” she whispered.“I was never yours,” Jace said coldly. “I never kissed you. Never touched you. Never made you promises.”“You didn’t have to. You looked at me like you could.” She turned to me, bitter and wild. “And then she came along with her little skirts and her wet-lipped smirks and you couldn’t help yourself.”I stepped forward. “You’re the one who stalked us. Took pictures. Threatened to expose
The next morning, Jace was gone before I woke up.But his hoodie was still draped across my chest, his scent clinging to my skin like a promise. My body still ached from the night before — from the slow, deep way he made love to me on the couch, from the words we whispered into each other’s mouths like prayer.I love you.The words had echoed in my head all night. But as morning sun spilled into the living room, it wasn’t warmth I felt.It was fear.Because someone still knew.And they were still watching.When I checked my phone, there were no new texts. No new threats.Just silence.The kind that screams in your bones.Downstairs, I found a note on the counter in Jace’s sharp, messy handwriting."Be ready by 2. Don’t ask questions. Just trust me."I stared at the words.Trust him.I did.Even if the world didn’t want me to.---2:03 p.m.He picked me up in his car — windows tinted, hoodie up, jaw clenched. No smile. No joke. Just a quiet "Hey," as he opened the passenger door and wa
It happened on a Sunday.The kind of Sunday where nothing felt real. The sun was too bright. The house too quiet. And my stomach twisted with the feeling that something was about to go terribly wrong.Jace was in the garage again. Avoiding everyone. Avoiding me.Since the night he told me someone might know, things had shifted. We still snuck kisses. He still whispered “mine” when no one was around. But the fire had changed.It wasn’t burning.It was smoldering.Hidden under the surface, ready to explode.I was curled up on the couch with my phone, trying to ignore it all, when a text came in.Unknown NumberI know what you’re doing.My heart stopped.Another ping.Unknown NumberTell your stepbrother I’m not blind. Or maybe I’ll tell your mom instead.I stared at the screen, hands trembling.Who the hell…?Another text followed—this time with a photo.My breath caught.It was blurry… but unmistakable.Me. In my room.Jace standing over me.His hand in my hair.My shirt off.Not full
We promised it was the last time.The last late night.The last stolen kiss.The last time he’d sneak into my bed and make me forget who we were supposed to be.But promises made between tangled sheets and desperate moans mean nothing in daylight.And nothing to people like us.Because the next night, he came back.This time, he didn’t knock.He walked straight in, locked the door behind him, and kissed me like the silence had been killing him.“You’re not sleeping,” he whispered, pulling the blanket from my legs.“Neither are you.”He pulled his shirt off. I didn’t even try to resist.“Tell me to leave,” he said again, already pushing my nightshirt up.“Lie to me,” I whispered. “Tell me this isn’t a disaster.”He smirked. “It’s a beautiful disaster.”He pressed me into the bed, and I gasped as he slid inside me in one smooth, deep thrust.No words. No teasing. Just raw, slow thrusts that made me cry out against his shoulder. My nails dragged down his back, and he groaned into my neck
It had been four days since the pantry.Four days since Jace bent me over a shelf with my dad steps away.Four days since he told me he’d burn the world down just to taste me again.And four days of silence.No texts. No knocks on my door. No secret smiles across the table. Just space.Too much spa







