3.

The next morning, Mia padded downstairs barefoot, the hem of her oversized sleep shirt brushing the tops of her thighs. The thin cotton had ridden up during the night; one wrong move and the curve of her bare ass would flash anyone who looked. She didn’t fix it. 

The house smelled of fresh coffee and toast, normal sounds drifting from the kitchen—Jake’s low laugh, the clink of mugs, Sarah’s bright voice asking for oat milk. Everything was ordinary. Everything exactly as it had been for years.

She stepped into the doorway.

Ethan stood at the counter in nothing but gray sweatpants slung low on his hips, back muscles shifting as he poured coffee.

 The waistband dipped just enough to show the sharp V of his lower abs. A small red mark—Sarah’s mouth, probably—faded on his shoulder. Mia’s stomach tightened, but she kept her face soft, sleepy, innocent.

“Morning,” she murmured, voice still husky from sleep.

Three heads turned, Jake’s date had already left in the morning. Jake barely glanced up from his phone. “You’re up early.”

Sarah offered a polite smile, stirring her coffee. “Hey, Mia.”

Ethan’s hand paused mid-pour. His dark eyes flicked over her—lingering on the way the thin shirt clung to her breasts, the hard points of her nipples clearly visible beneath the fabric, the long expanse of bare legs. He cleared his throat.

“Morning, little sister.”

The words should have stung. Instead they sent a secret spark straight between her thighs. Mia smiled sweetly and walked past him to the fridge, close enough that her arm brushed his bare side. Warm skin. Solid muscle. She reached for the orange juice, rising onto her toes so the shirt hem lifted another inch, revealing the lower curve of her ass and the fact she wore no panties.

She felt his stare like a physical touch.

“Sleep well?” she asked lightly, turning with the carton in hand. She leaned back against the counter opposite him, letting her thighs part just slightly as she poured herself a glass. The cool edge of the counter pressed against her bare pussy; she was already slick from the memory of last night.

Ethan’s grip on his mug tightened. “Yeah. You?”

“Mmm. Had some… interesting dreams.” She took a slow sip, letting a tiny drop of juice escape the corner of her lips. It trailed down her chin. She caught it with her fingertip and slipped the finger into her mouth, sucking gently, eyes half-lidded.

Sarah was chatting with Jake about weekend plans. Neither noticed except Ethan. His jaw flexed. He shifted his weight, and the front of his sweatpants twitched, the soft fabric doing nothing to hide the growing outline beneath.

Mia set her glass down and stretched, arms overhead, back arching. The shirt rode all the way up, flashing the smooth, bare skin of her lower belly and the shadowed hint between her thighs before she lowered her arms again. “God, it’s already so hot. Maybe we should all go swimming again later.”

Jake grunted. “Sure, whatever.”

Ethan’s voice came out rough. “You planning to wear that same tiny thing from yesterday?”

Mia tilted her head, pretending to think, one finger tracing the neckline of her shirt, pulling it down just enough to show the upper swell of her breasts. “Maybe. Or maybe something even smaller. What do you think would look better on me, Ethan?”

Sarah laughed, oblivious. “You two and your sibling teasing. Cute.”

Ethan didn’t laugh. His eyes had gone dark, locked on the way Mia’s nipples strained against the thin cotton. He took a slow sip of coffee, but his knuckles were white around the mug.

Mia pushed off the counter and walked toward the pantry, hips swaying with each step. She passed so close behind Ethan that her breasts brushed the bare skin of his back. Just a whisper of contact. Enough to feel him tense.

“Oops. Sorry,” she whispered, breath warm against his shoulder blade.

He didn’t move or speak.

She reached for the cereal on the top shelf, rising onto her toes again. The shirt lifted fully this time, baring her entire ass to the room—round, smooth, the cleft between her cheeks clearly visible. She stayed like that a second longer than necessary, pretending to struggle with the box.

Behind her, Ethan’s breathing changed—shallower, heavier.

When she finally turned with the cereal in hand, his gaze snapped up from where it had been fixed. A flush crept up his neck. The front of his sweatpants was now unmistakably tented, the thick ridge of his cock pressing insistently against the fabric.

Mia’s pulse thrummed between her legs. She was soaked, thighs slippery, clit aching from the thrill of his stare. But her face stayed sweet, almost shy.

“Want some?” she asked, holding up the box, voice light as air.

Ethan’s eyes met hers. Something raw flickered there—hunger, conflict, heat. For a moment the kitchen felt too small, the air too thick.

“Yeah,” he said, voice low. “I want some.”

The double meaning hung between them like smoke.

Sarah stood, stretching. “I’m gonna jump in the shower quick before we figure out the lake or whatever. You coming, babe?”

Ethan nodded once. “Be up in a sec.”

Jake headed toward the garage, phone already at his ear. “I’ll be messing with the jet skis. Don’t burn the house down.”

The front door clicked shut behind him. Sarah disappeared upstairs, humming and the kitchen fell quiet.

Mia set the cereal down. She walked around the island until only a couple of feet separated her and Ethan. Close enough to smell coffee and warm skin on him. She looked up through her lashes.

Ethan’s hand flexed at his side. He glanced toward the stairs, then back at her. His gaze dropped for a split second to the hem of her shirt, to where her nipples pressed against the thin cotton, before he looked away again.

Mia reached up as if to fix a strand of his messy hair, letting her breasts brush lightly against his chest through the fabric—one soft, accidental press. Her nipples dragged across his skin.

Ethan inhaled sharply but said nothing. His body stayed still, almost rigid.

Footsteps sounded on the stairs above.

Sarah’s voice floated down. “Ethan? You still down there? Can’t find my bikini top.”

Ethan stepped back, rubbing the back of his neck. “Coming.”

Mia stayed where she was, cheeks warm, thighs pressed together against the slick heat between them. She picked up her glass of juice like the morning was perfectly ordinary.

“Better go help her,” she said softly, smiling.

Ethan paused at the bottom of the stairs, one hand on the railing. He glanced back over his shoulder. His eyes moved over her once more—sleep shirt barely covering anything, nipples tight, legs bare—before he turned and headed up without another word.

Mia let out a slow breath, fingers curling around the counter edge.

Her heart still raced. The ache between her legs hadn’t eased. But she had seen the way his sweatpants had tightened, the way his hand had flexed like he didn’t know what to do with it, the way he had looked away a little too quickly.