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Prologue
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2025-11-30 22:24:06I never meant to fall for my sister’s fiancée.
But the first time I saw Celine Hartman, she was standing under the soft glow of fairy lights in our mother’s living room, her wedding binder clutched to her chest like a shield. She was impeccable, hair pinned back, heels sharp, blouse crisp. Everything about her screamed control, poise, perfection. And maybe that’s why my chest clenched the second our eyes met.
Her gaze didn’t skim over me as it should have. It didn’t settle on my sister, the golden one, the flawless one. No, Celine looked at me. Really looked. Like she could see straight through the tattoos, the hoodie, the way I’d spent the last two years hiding in coffee shops and late-night walks, trying not to exist.
I froze.
My sister, Aaliyah, was chatting happily, oblivious to the quiet storm between us. I should have smiled, nodded, played my role, the disappointing little sister who didn’t deserve attention, who faded into the background. But Celine’s eyes… they refused to let me fade. They held me there, warm and intense, and something flickered in the pit of my stomach that I couldn’t name.
A slow, forbidden heat spread through me, reckless and dangerous. Every instinct screamed to step back, to pretend I wasn’t trembling under her stare. But I didn’t. I couldn’t.
She tilted her head, just slightly, the faintest curve of a smile teasing her lips. One eyebrow rose, subtle but deliberate. A question? A warning? An invitation? My pulse thudded so loudly I could swear the whole room heard it.
And I wanted her to hold my gaze. I wanted to step closer, even though every rational part of my brain was shouting that this was impossible. She was engaged to my sister, the woman I was supposed to admire from a safe distance, maybe even help plan a perfect wedding for. She was a bride, untouchable. Sacred. Forbidden.
But the air between us sparked like static. My hands itched to brush hers when she adjusted the binder. My mouth wanted to speak words I couldn’t form. My body betrayed me, leaning just a fraction closer than propriety allowed.
For one suspended heartbeat, the room narrowed to the space between us. Just me and Celine, and the soft hum of the party fading into nothing. Every detail was sharp: the faint scent of her perfume, the soft glow on her skin, the way her eyes flickered when she noticed me noticing her.
I didn’t know then that she would ruin me. That she would haunt my dreams, my thoughts, my every waking moment. I didn’t know that every glance after this one would be charged with something forbidden, something intoxicating.
All I knew was this:
The bride shouldn’t have looked at me first.
But God, my chest ached for her to look again and consume me entirely. I wanted her to look again.
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The Bride Looked at Me First 5. A Dangerous Touch
The rehearsal dinner had ended hours ago, and the house was quiet, except for the faint hum of the city outside and the soft tick of the kitchen clock. I should have been in my room, scrolling through my phone to escape the ache in my chest, the constant pull of her in my thoughts. But somehow, I found myself wandering the hallways, drawn toward the living room.She was there. Of course she was.Celine leaned casually against the doorway, a glass of wine in hand, her eyes catching the dim light and turning it molten. She didn’t speak at first—just watched me, quiet and deliberate, and my stomach twisted with the ache of desire. Every step I took closer made my pulse hammer, every inch a gamble with fire I didn’t want to escape.“You’re here again,” she said softly, almost teasing, though her voice carried a weight that made me shiver. “I was wondering when you’d sneak out.”I swallowed hard, my throat dry. “I… I couldn’t sleep,” I muttered, trying to sound casual, though my heart betr
The Bride Looked at Me First 4. Messages in the Dark
The morning after the garden, the apartment felt smaller, tighter, as though the walls themselves were holding their breath. I couldn’t stop thinking about her—the way her presence had pressed against mine, the almost-touch, the almost-kiss. Every detail replayed in my mind, sharp and vivid, setting my pulse racing.I tried to focus on mundane tasks—folding laundry, stacking cups, straightening the living room—but it was useless. Every time the wind brushed my arm or a shadow flickered past the window, I imagined it was her.Then my phone buzzed.A new message. From an unknown number.It’s me. Don’t pretend you didn’t want to stay in the garden last night.I froze, heart hammering. My fingers shook as I typed a reply.You shouldn’t have followed me.I couldn’t stay away. Could you?The response hit my chest like a physical weight, and I couldn’t breathe properly for a moment. Desire. Danger. Forbidden promise. Each word spun through my mind like wildfire. I imagined her leaning agains
The Bride Looked at Me First 3. Almost Confessions
The garden was silent except for the soft hum of the night air and the faint rustle of leaves under my shoes. I could feel Celine’s presence behind me before I even realized she had followed. Every step she took made the space between us shrink, my chest tightening with each one.“You shouldn’t sneak around at night,” I said, though my voice betrayed me with a tremor I couldn’t hide.She didn’t answer immediately. Instead, she leaned against the fountain, crossing one leg over the other, her eyes catching mine in the dim golden light. “Why shouldn’t I?” she asked softly, her tone teasing, almost velvet. “Is it because it’s dangerous? Or because you can’t stop thinking about me?”I froze. The words, casual though they seemed, hit me like a hammer. My heart lurched, and I felt the heat rise in my cheeks. I wanted to deny it, to turn and run, to pretend that none of this, this impossible, forbidden, electric pull, existed. But I couldn’t. Not when she was there, looking at me the way no
The Bride Looked at Me First 2. Dangerous Glances
The next morning, I woke with a strange ache in my chest. Not the usual post-travel exhaustion. Not hunger or caffeine withdrawal. Something else. Something that had begun the second Celine’s gaze landed on me.I told myself it was a crush. A fleeting, stupid, absolutely forbidden crush that I had to squash before it grew into something catastrophic. But as I stretched and ran a hand through my messy hair, I realized I had no idea how to do that.Celine was everywhere. In the kitchen making tea, in the living room checking floral arrangements, even lingering by the staircase as if she had nothing better to do than watch me move through my morning. Every glance, every brush of her sleeve past mine, made my pulse stutter. I hated it. Loved it. Couldn’t stop thinking about it.“You’re awake early,” she said, appearing beside me in the kitchen. Her presence hit me like a warm tide, curling around me, pulling me close without touching. She leaned casually against the counter, one hand crad
The Bride Looked at Me First 1. Collision Course
The morning after the first time Celine Hartman looked at me, I had coffee in one hand and my phone in the other, staring at a blank text message I didn’t want to send. My fingers hovered over the keyboard like I was about to disarm a bomb.Don’t text her. Don’t start this. It’s wrong.I’d been home for less than twelve hours, and the wedding chaos was already suffocating me. My sister, Aaliyah, floated through the apartment like she owned every square inch, perfectly coiffed and radiating ambition. Her fiancé, Celine, moved with a calm precision that made my hoodie-and-sneakers self feel like a torn-up scrap of nothing.But it wasn’t that I was intimidated. Not exactly. It was… something worse.Her eyes.The way she’d looked at me in the living room last night. Like she’d been waiting for me to show up. Like she already knew me in ways no one else ever had. I could still feel it, a heat crawling up my spine and settling deep in my chest, somewhere between thrill and danger.I shoved
The Bride Looked at Me First Prologue
I never meant to fall for my sister’s fiancée.But the first time I saw Celine Hartman, she was standing under the soft glow of fairy lights in our mother’s living room, her wedding binder clutched to her chest like a shield. She was impeccable, hair pinned back, heels sharp, blouse crisp. Everything about her screamed control, poise, perfection. And maybe that’s why my chest clenched the second our eyes met.Her gaze didn’t skim over me as it should have. It didn’t settle on my sister, the golden one, the flawless one. No, Celine looked at me. Really looked. Like she could see straight through the tattoos, the hoodie, the way I’d spent the last two years hiding in coffee shops and late-night walks, trying not to exist.I froze.My sister, Aaliyah, was chatting happily, oblivious to the quiet storm between us. I should have smiled, nodded, played my role, the disappointing little sister who didn’t deserve attention, who faded into the background. But Celine’s eyes… they refused to let
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