My One-Night Stand Turned Out to Be My Stepbrother

NIA’S POV.

“She married him a week before I even landed in Atlanta, Ava. A whole week. I didn’t get to meet him. Didn’t get to say a word. Just got a call that said pack your bags, you’re moving into the penthouse.”

Ava bounced in the driver’s seat like the news still excited her. “Girl, I know. You’ve been saying it since we left home. But look—your mama waited two years. Two whole years after your daddy. She was lonely. You saw the way she stopped cooking, stopped laughing at those old shows. She deserves somebody.”

“She deserves somebody she actually introduces to her daughter first.”

“I’m not dismissing you.” Ava turned the music up a notch then immediately back down so she could keep talking. “I’m saying both things can be true. She can want love and you can still be pissed she moved this fast.”

I stared out at the city lights crawling past. “I don’t care about who she moves on with. I care that I had to find out from a text that my mother had a new husband.”

Ava reached over and squeezed my arm, still grinning. “And I know sitting in that empty apartment by yourself every night isn’t helping.”

“I don’t have a choice. The job fell through. Rent is due. I can’t—”

“You can stay with me.”

I shook my head. “Your place is a one-bedroom and your roommate already side-eyes me when I leave a mug in the sink. I’m not sleeping on your couch for months while I figure my life out. And I need a real address if I’m still applying for jobs. Your building doesn’t even take packages properly.”

Ava sighed. “True. Then we’re doing this instead.”

“Doing what?”

“Getting you out of your head for one night. You’re twenty-three, not fifty. You just graduated. You deserve one night where you’re not thinking about your mom’s new husband or how broke you are.”

I didn’t answer. The club came into view—glass, neon, a line already loud and moving. Bass leaked out onto the sidewalk before we even reached the door. Ava parked two streets over and we walked.

The Atlanta night air stuck to my skin. My heels clicked too loud on the sidewalk. I pulled my top down a little. The white one that clung. I didn’t care who looked.

Inside, the heat hit first. Then the sound. Bass so heavy it sat in my chest. Lights cutting across bodies. Perfume, liquor, sweat, cologne all mixed together. People pressed close, shouting over the music just to be heard.

Ava ordered two drinks and kept talking the whole time the bartender poured. I took mine, drank half, and let my eyes move across the room.

I saw him near the edge of the VIP section. Black shirt, sleeves pushed up, ink covering both arms. Short curls on top, clean fade. Gold chain. He was laughing at something, head tilted back, then he looked straight at me like he felt it.

I didn’t look away.

Ava followed my gaze. “Oh. Okay. Him?”

“He’d better be as good in bed as he is gorgeous. I’ll call you when I’m done.” I winked at her, and she laughed, shaking her head.

I gulped down my drink and walked over. He watched me the whole way. When I stopped in front of him his friends stepped back without being asked. The music was too loud for easy talk, so I didn’t try.

I reached for the beer in his hand, took it, and drank. His eyebrows lifted.

“You always steal strangers’ drinks?”

I shrugged. “Only if they’re handsome.”

He laughed. “Good thing I’m handsome then.”

I handed the bottle back, wiped the corner of my mouth with my thumb, and leaned in close enough that he could hear me.

“Dance with me.”

He didn’t move right away. Just looked at me like he was deciding something. Then he set the beer down, took my wrist instead of letting me pull him, and led the way to the middle of the floor.

Bodies closed in around us. The beat was heavy and slow enough to grind to. He turned me so my back was against his chest and settled both hands on my hips like he already knew how I moved.

I rolled against him. He met every shift, pressing closer when the bass dropped. Lights flashed across the ink on his arms. When I turned to face him he kept one hand low on my back and the other at the side of my neck, thumb brushing my jaw.

“You always this bold?” he asked near my ear.

“Only when I feel like it.”

“And you feel like it tonight?”

“Yeah.”

We stayed on the floor through two more songs. No long conversation. Just heat, movement, the way he matched me without trying to take over. When the track changed I pulled back just enough to look at him.

He shook his head once. “There’s a hotel connected to this place. Upstairs.”

I nodded.

We left the floor without saying goodbye to anyone. The elevator to the hotel side was quiet compared to the club. He already had a key. The room was simple—big bed, city view, soft lighting. The door clicked shut and the sudden drop in noise made my ears ring.

I turned to face him. He was already watching me.

“You sure?” he asked.

Instead of answering I stepped forward, grabbed the front of his shirt, and pulled his mouth down to mine.

It wasn’t soft. I didn’t want soft. My hands went under his shirt, dragging it up. He helped, yanking it over his head and dropping it. His skin was warm. The tattoos covered more than I expected—arms, chest, the side of his neck. I traced one with my fingers while he kissed me harder, walking me backward until my legs hit the couch.

He pulled my top off in one motion. My bra followed. His hands were rough in the best way, cupping my breasts, thumbs dragging over my nipples until I made a sound I didn’t mean to. I shoved his pants down next. He stepped out of them and his boxers. I wrapped my hand around him and felt how hard he already was.

“Fuck,” he muttered against my mouth.

I stroked him once, slow, then tighter. He groaned and pushed me down onto the couch. My jeans and underwear came off together. He dropped to his knees between my legs without asking, pulled me to the edge, and put his mouth on me.

I arched. One hand went into his hair. He didn’t tease. He licked and sucked like he already knew what I needed—firm, steady, no hesitation. Two fingers slid inside me and curled. I was already wet enough that the sound was loud in the quiet apartment. My thighs started to shake.

“Don’t stop,” I said. It came out broken.

He didn’t. He kept going until I came hard, legs locking around his head, a sharp cry leaving my throat. Before I could even catch my breath he stood, wiped his mouth with the back of his hand, and pulled me up.

He reached for the nightstand, opened the drawer, and pulled out a condom. Hotel standard. He tore it open with his teeth and rolled it on while I watched. Then I pushed him down onto the bed and climbed on top.

I sank down onto him slowly. We both went still for a second. Then I started moving. It was messy. My hands on his shoulders, his on my hips, guiding but not controlling. I rode him hard, chasing the second one already building. He thrust up to meet me, the sound of skin on skin filling the room. Every time I dropped down he hit deeper. I leaned forward and bit his bottom lip. He growled and flipped us so I was on my back, one of my legs over his shoulder. He drove into me without slowing down.

“Look at me,” he said.

I did. His eyes were dark, focused only on my face. Sweat already on his forehead. I reached up and dragged my nails down his chest. He hissed and fucked me harder.

I came again with my mouth open and no sound coming out at first. Then it broke free—loud, raw. He followed right after, burying himself deep and holding still while he finished inside me. His forehead dropped to mine.

We stayed like that, breathing hard, until he carefully pulled out. He tied off the condom, walked to the bathroom, and came back with a warm washcloth. I took it and cleaned myself while he cleaned himself at the sink. No awkward silence. Just the quiet sound of water and the city outside the window.

I got dressed first. He pulled his pants back on and watched me smooth my hair.

“You gonna tell me your name?” he asked.

“No.”

“I*******m at least?”

I shook my head. “This was just tonight.”

He nodded once, like he expected that answer. I picked up my bag, walked to the door, and looked back one last time—tattoos, messy curls, the way he was still watching me.

“Thanks for the night,” I said, and left.

The elevator was empty. I leaned against the wall and closed my eyes for a second. My body still felt the sex—the ache between my legs, the heat on my skin—but that was all it was. One night. Nothing else.

By the time I stepped out into the Atlanta humidity my phone buzzed.

Mom

Can’t wait to see you tomorrow. Victor and I have a surprise.

I rolled my eyes a little. Whatever it was, it couldn’t possibly make this week any stranger.

I had no idea I was wrong.