My Stepbrother, My Lover

Prologue:

The night air clung to my skin like heat after a storm heavy, electric, impossible to ignore. Music pulsed from inside the mansion, muffled through the thick patio doors, a dull heartbeat echoing from somewhere behind us. But all of that every beat, every sound, every distant voice faded into meaningless static.

Because Ian Hardin had me backed into a corner.

Not just physically, though he was close. Too close. His tall frame towered over mine, blocking the path back inside. But it was more than his body, it was the look in his eyes, the crackling tension between us, the dangerous proximity of every word we hadn’t said.

“Don’t test my self-control, Freckles.” His voice dropped into a deep, molten whisper that slid over my skin like a slow burn. “You know I have none when it comes to you.”

My breath caught. Just like that, my body betrayed me, heart hammering, pulse rushing, skin prickling with unwanted heat. The way his voice wrapped around my name… it sent something curling deep inside me. A dark pull, an ache I didn’t want to acknowledge.

“It’s just a short, clinging dress, Ian,” I managed, fighting for composure I didn’t feel. I forced a half-smirk, even though my voice shook. “Surely you can handle it. I mean… Elara must’ve given you plenty of practice for moments like this.”

His eyes darkened instantly, the storm building behind them like a wave about to crash. The air shifted, thickening, like something dangerous had just been released between us.

“You and Elara are two different worlds,” he murmured, and then his hand slid down my back. It was slow, unhurried too confident. Like he already knew I wouldn’t stop him.

His fingers brushed the small of my waist… and then went lower.

I froze, but my body didn’t move away. It betrayed me again.

His palm cupped the curve of my butt, fingers kneading gently. Possessively.

“My hands ache for you,” he said, voice rough velvet. “My heart too. And when you’re here… everyone else disappears.”

A sound caught in my throat, something between a gasp and a moan, and I bit down hard, forcing it back. One small sound, and it would all be over. He’d know.

I hated that he already did.

For one insane heartbeat, I leaned into him—just a little. Just enough to feel his chest against mine, the press of his hips, the warmth of his breath.

Then I snapped out of it.

“Cut the crap, obsessed fool,” I hissed, pushing his hand off me with more force than necessary. “You think poetry’s gonna work on me now?”

But Ian didn’t move away.

He smirked.

And then he moved faster than I could think.

In one smooth motion, he spun me and slammed me gently, too gently against the cold patio wall. His body pressed into mine. His chest solid. His arms caging me in. I shoved against him, but he didn’t flinch.

“You’re insane!” I hissed, struggling to sound firm even as my knees wobbled. “This is your engagement party, Ian! Someone could walk by and see—”

“And what?” His voice was a hot whisper. His breath brushed my lips. “They’ll be jealous? Or bitter about how close I am to my stepsister?”

The word burned. Stepsister.

My cheeks flared, blood rising too fast.

“You’re an asshole,” I spat, and yet my gaze stayed locked on his.

He didn’t blink. “Jason is waiting,” I reminded myself out loud, as if the name would save me. “He’s waiting for me.”

Ian scoffed. “Jason? That idiot couldn’t keep you entertained if he were the last man on Earth. All he’s got are dumb jokes and zero bite.”

My hands clenched into fists at my sides. “We laugh. That’s more than I can say about you and your ‘bite.’”

He stepped in closer, until his lips nearly brushed mine. “You don’t want laughter.”

His voice dropped into a growl that hit me straight in the stomach.

“You want someone who drives you insane,” he said, lifting my chin. “Someone who makes you beg.”

I gasped.

And that’s when his mouth found mine.

It wasn’t a kiss. It was a war. His lips crashed into mine with hunger, with fury, with heat that stole every ounce of air in my lungs. I should’ve pushed him off. I should’ve screamed, slapped, run.

But I didn’t.

I kissed him back.

Harder.

Faster.

Needier.

It was messy, dangerous, devastating—and I loved it.

His hands moved like they knew me. One pinned my wrists above my head. The other roamed down, finding the curve of my hip, then my thigh, then back again.

“You don’t want soft,” he murmured between kisses, his voice gritty and raw. “You want it rough. Unrestrained. Addictive.”

I whimpered as his teeth grazed the shell of my ear. Then he smacked my ass—hard enough to shock a moan from me.

Shame and desire twisted inside me. I hated that I loved how it felt.

Ian grinned against my neck, then moved his hands to my chest, cupping my breasts through the thin fabric of my dress. His fingers toyed with the curves, teasing, squeezing until my breath came in ragged little bursts.

I tried to keep up. I tried to match his rhythm. But Ian Hardin kissed like sin. Like he had nothing to lose. Like he knew I’d fall apart if he didn’t stop.

And then—

He did.

He stepped back like he hadn’t just turned me inside out.

The cold rushed in, and my whole body ached from the sudden loss.

“You bastard,” I snapped, smacking his chest. I was blushing so hard it felt like my skin might melt off. “What the hell was that?!”

He chuckled darkly. “Poetic enough for you, Freckles?”

I wanted to scream. Or laugh. Or hit him again. Or pull him back in and kiss him like I’d never stopped.

Instead, a laugh burst out—awkward and breathless and utterly humiliating.

Ian’s smirk deepened.

But before either of us could say another word—

A bright light hit us.

We both froze.

The patio doors swung open, spilling light and noise from the party behind us. Chris stepped out, followed by Annie.

And Annie? She saw everything.

Her eyes widened like dinner plates. Her jaw dropped so fast I thought it might dislocate.

“Oh my god,” she gasped, grabbing my arm like she needed physical proof I was real. “Were you just making out with your stepbrother?!”

Blood drained from my face.

I opened my mouth to respond—but nothing came out. Not a single word.

Chris walked past with a smug little grin, eyes full of judgment but no surprise. Ian? He didn’t flinch. He simply straightened his collar and walked back inside.

Like he hadn’t just kissed the girl his father’s marrying into the family.

Annie, meanwhile, was buzzing with chaotic energy beside me. Giggling. Whispering. Screeching. The drama of it all was too much for her to contain.

And me?

I didn’t move.

I stood there, heart still racing, lips still swollen, breath still uneven.

Frozen.

Ashamed.

And yet, beneath all the guilt and fury boiling inside me… one terrible, intoxicating truth pulsed louder than anything else.

I wanted him.

Still.

Again.

More.

I had just crossed a line I could never uncross.

And deep down, a twisted, dangerous part of me already knew…

I’d do it again.