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Two Thirty Five

Author: Raven
last update publish date: 2026-04-16 00:36:41
A few minutes later, the conversation quieted down into a stillness typical of when you’ve run out of questions but still haven’t figured everything out. Outside, the soft snow we’d admired before had turned wild-thick flakes swirling viciously against the window, the streetlamp across the street a mere hazy glow in the storm. The wind howled around the corners of the little house, rattling the loose pane in the living room window like it was trying to find a way inside.

Rachel got up to clear
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  • My Enemy [BL]   Two Sixty Three

    A deep groan rumbled from his chest, sending shivers down my spine even though I was already warm.My jaw dropped in surprise, and my brain scrambled to catch up. I turned my head, about to blurt out a confused "what the hell do you think you’re doing?" but he rocked into me again, unapologetically. The contact sent a jolt through me that had nothing to do with the cool air on my wet skin."Shhh," he whispered, his breath warm against my ear, lips brushing my lobe in a way that made me shiver. "It’s okay... I’m hard too, you know. I’m glad I have that effect on you as you do to me."The words hit me like a splash of cold water, and heat rushed to my cheeks, probably turning me bright red under the dim lights. I tried to play it cool with a grunt, but it came out more like a pathetic puff of air."Then stop being an ass," I shot back, my voice shaking a bit, showing just how much he was already getting to me.I could almost hear Rowan’s smirk, I could feel it against my skin. Then he l

  • My Enemy [BL]   Two Sixty Two

    I pulled away from him first, my chest rising and falling rapidly, my lips still buzzing from how Rowan kissed me like he’d been waiting forever for this moment. My gaze flicked toward the glass doors leading to the hotel corridor, half-expecting to see a security guard’s flashlight piercing the dark or...worse, one of the staff with a polite cough and a raised eyebrow...or probably a look of horror once they realized what us step-brothers were doing."A–are we... really sure we won’t get caught?" I whispered, my voice trembling somewhere between nervous laughter and genuine fear.Rowan didn’t respond immediately. Instead, he rested his forehead against my shoulder, inhaling deeply like the scent of chlorine and my skin was the only thing keeping him grounded. His arms tightened around my waist, pulling our wet bodies together in the water, every bit of contact feeling calculated and almost desperate.I could feel his heart racing against my ribs, could sense the slight tremor running

  • My Enemy [BL]   Two Sixty One

    In my dream that night, the gala turned into a total shit show. Chandeliers dripped blood-red light, and guests wore masks that sneered at me as I walked by.Whispers followed like freaking smoke: "Step-brothers... disgusting... what would their parents think?"Familiar faces...Mom, Roderick, Frank, loomed from the crowd, eyes full of disgust. Mom turned away, Roderick disowned us with one cold word, and Frank... Frank just walked away, heartbroken and silent, leaving me alone in the center of the ballroom as the whispers turned to shouts.I’ve had multiple dreams of being trapped and drowning...but why did this one feel so close to home?I jolted awake, heart racing, sheets damp with sweat. The suite was pitch dark except for the faint glow of the city outside, the clock on the nightstand reading 2:47 a.m. I sat up, disoriented and trembling, the dream clinging to me like cobwebs.Unable to even think about falling back asleep, I grabbed my phone and texted him.Me: You awake?His re

  • My Enemy [BL]   Two Sixty

    I was just about finally settling into my room and pretending the outside world didn’t even exist when all of a sudden they barged in."Mr. Atlas, good evening," the lead stylist chimed in, already unzipping the protective cover of the emerald suit. "We’re here for the final fitting. Mr. Harrigan wants everything to be perfect for tonight’s gala."I sat up, rubbing the sleep from my eyes, still wrapped in the plush robe from the night before. "Already? It’s barely... what time is it?""Eight-thirty," she said cheerfully, as if that explained everything. "We’ve got a tight schedule. Hair styling at eleven in the morning, photos at two, and leave by six."Two assistants flanked her, one already holding the suit jacket aloft while the other spread out accessories on the vanity: polished black dress shoes, a silver cufflink set that looked like it belonged in a museum, matching tie pin and pocket square that sparkled like captured stars. I felt like a mannequin being dressed for display.

  • My Enemy [BL]   Two Fifty Nine

    The jet landed smoothly, barely bumping the ground, the tires almost delicately touching the tarmac as if they were afraid to disturb it. From my oval window, I took in the sight of Hayseville below—an endless stretch of desert punctuated by a dazzling display of neon and glass that looked like someone had tossed a bunch of jewels across the sand.Even in the daylight, the city seemed alive, lights flashing in vibrant pinks and electric blues, hotels shaped like pyramids and golden spheres rising as if to compete with the sky itself.Pressing my face against the glass as we taxied, I felt my heart do a little flip, a feeling that had nothing to do with flying. Willow Haven had its own charm...quiet streets, familiar faces, kinda had that cozy small-town vibe that made you feel secure, but this?It was something completely different. Hayseville didn’t just whisper; it roared, all glitz and extravagance, like Vegas had decided to mature, get some work done, and start flaunting designer

  • My Enemy [BL]   Two Fifty Eight

    The moment I opened my eyes the next morning, the room was already buzzing with activity. Maids flitted around like they were on a mission, they were opening closet doors, laying out garment bags, and wheeling in trays of hot coffee and pastries, as if we were gearing up for a royal event instead of just a two-hour flight.Someone had already drawn back the heavy silk curtains, flooding the suite with pale winter light that bounced off the mirrors in bright flashes. My phone read 7:42 a.m., which meant we were officially running late, and in Roderick Harrigan’s world, being late was basically a crime.I barely had a moment to rub the sleep from my eyes before a maid...Maria, I think, appeared with a tray of fresh orange juice and a warm croissant."Mr. Atlas, we need to hurry. The car leaves for the airport in thirty minutes."I mumbled something unintelligible, swung my legs over the side of the bed, and stumbled into the bathroom, where another maid was already running the shower an

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