Chapter One

I was nineteen when Vincent first touched me, and I’ve never forgiven myself for letting him.

I’d just finished my first semester of college with nineteen credits, two all-nighters a week, and a newfound ability to drink black coffee without flinching. The drive home had been long, rain-slicked highways and holiday traffic crawling north. By the time I pulled into the driveway, every muscle ached, and all I wanted was silence, a shower, and my own bed.

But the house felt different the moment I stepped inside. It was a bit too quiet.

My parents were away at a weekend conference in the city, some banking retreat Dad couldn’t skip. Laura had texted earlier, “crashing early. Thesis kicked my ass. Vincent’s coming over to help me finish edits. Don’t wait up, baby sis.”

I wasn’t even planning to.

I dropped my duffel in the foyer, kicked off my wet boots, and headed upstairs. The hallway was dark except for the faint glow under Laura’s door, probably her desk lamp. She’d always been the responsible one, twenty-six, finishing her master’s, engaged to the kind of man our parents bragged about at parties.

Vincent Hale. Thirty now, but twenty-seven when they met. Tall, dark-haired, with a voice that could calm a room and eyes that made people lean in when he spoke. Successful, charming, the perfect future son-in-law. Laura glowed whenever his name came up and I envied her that certainty.

My bathroom door was cracked open, steam already curling out from the shower I’d started remotely on the drive home, thank you, smart house app. I slipped inside, let my soaked hoodie and leggings hit the floor, and stepped under the spray.

Hot water pounded my shoulders, washing away the road grime. I closed my eyes, tipped my head back, and exhaled for what felt like the first time in months.

For a brief, blessed second, my mind went blank... no exams, no roommate drama, no nagging doubt about whether I was cut out for any of this.

Then the door clicked shut behind me and I spun around fast, my heart slamming into my ribs.

Vincent stood there, back against the door, arms loose at his sides, just... watching as water streamed down my body. There was nowhere to hide.

“What the hell are you doing?” My voice cracked, too loud in the small space.

He didn’t flinch, just raised one finger to his lips. “Shh. Laura’s asleep.”

I grabbed my robe on the hook, clutching it to my chest like an armour. “Get out.”

But he didn’t move.

His gaze travelled slowly down the line of my throat, over the curve of my shoulder where the robe gaped, lower. Not just leering... taking inventory like he had every right.

“I saw you looking at me,” he said quietly. “At dinner last month. When you came home for Thanksgiving.”

Heat flooded my face as I remembered. He’d reached across me for the wine, his sleeve brushing my arm. Our eyes had locked for half a second too long and I’d looked away first.

“That was nothing,” I lied.

“Was it?”

He took a step forward as the steam wrapped around him like he belonged in it.

I should have screamed or shoved past him. Instead, my back met the tiled wall, cold against my skin.

“Laura’s down the hall,” I whispered.

“I know.”

His hand lifted slow enough that I could have stopped him, and brushed a wet strand of hair from my cheek... his thumb lingering at the corner of my mouth.

“Tell me to leave,” he said in a low and firm voice. “Say the word, and I’m gone.”

My lips parted but nothing came out.

His eyes darkened and he took the robe from my fingers gently, and let it drop to the floor.

I stood naked under the spray, trembling but not from cold. He looked at me like I was something rare. Something he’d been waiting to unwrap. But at what cost? Laura’s face if she knew. Her tears. Her heartbreak. The image flashed in my mind, sharp and painful, but it warred with the heat building inside me.

His palm settled on my waist, thumb tracing the ridge of my hipbone. The touch was light, but it burned straight through me.

“This is wrong,” I managed to speak.

“I know.”

“Then why...”

“Because I can’t stop thinking about you.”

The confession hung between us, then his mouth found mine before I could answer.

The kiss started soft, testing and giving me every chance to pull away, and when I didn’t, it deepened. His tongue slid against mine, demanding. I made a sound I didn’t recognize, and he swallowed it, pressing closer.

His body was hard against me now, shirt clinging where water soaked through, the unmistakable ridge of his arousal hard against my stomach. My hands fisted in the wet fabric at his shoulders where I should have pushed but I pulled.

He broke the kiss only to trail his lips down my throat, teeth scraping lightly at the spot that made my knees buckle. One arm banded around my waist, holding me up as his free hand slid lower, over my ribs, the curve of my breast, thumb circling my nipple until it peaked tight and aching.

I gasped his name as he groaned against my skin, the sound vibrating through me.

His hand continued down, parting my thighs. When his fingers found me slick and swollen. Then he went still.

“Look at you,” he murmured, voice rough. “So wet for me already.”

I whimpered as he circled my clit with deliberate slowness. Once. Twice. My hips jerked forward, seeking more.

“Please,” I breathed. I didn’t even know what I was asking for.

He sank to his knees, my dripping cunt right at his mouth level. The moment his tongue the first long, slow, filthy drag from my tight little asshole up through my soaked slit to flick my swollen clit, I gasped, hips jerking like I had been electrocuted. He growled against my wet flesh, voice muffled and rough. “Fuck, look at this greedy little pussy already leaking for me.”

I slapped a hand over my mouth to muffle the cry that tore out of me, but inside, my mind reeled. This is sick. He’s hers. Stop him... stop yourself.

He didn’t rush, he tasted me like he had all the time in the world, with long licks, gentle suction, then faster flicks that had my thighs shaking around his head.

His hands gripped my hips, holding me still as he worked me higher. Two fingers pushed inside, curling just right, stroking that spot that made stars burst behind my eyes.

I whimpered, fingers twisting in his hair, trying to pull him closer and he obliged, sealing his lips around and sucking hard, tongue flicking fast and merciless over the sensitive bud. So hard that I began to imagine Laura stirring in her bed, like she was about to wake up.

How can this feel so good when it’s so wrong? Laura would hate me. I hate me. But my body didn’t care, it chased the release, hips grinding against his mouth despite the storm in my chest.

Then I came hard, biting down on my palm, body clenching around his fingers as wave after wave crashed through me, my thighs vibrating around his head. “Yeah, that’s it, grind that needy cunt on my tongue,” he murmured between sucks.

 He didn’t stop until I sagged against the wall, oversensitive and shaking.

“Fuck yes… that’s my girl,” he praised, voice hoarse and thick with lust as he finally lifted his head, face glistening.

Only then did he stand and kissed me again, letting me taste myself on his tongue. His hands framed my face, thumbs brushing my cheekbones like I was something precious.

Then he stepped back, picked up my robe and wrapped it around me himself, tying the belt with careful fingers.

“I should go,” he said quietly but I didn’t respond... I couldn’t.

He brushed one last kiss against my forehead and slipped out the door as the lock clicked behind him.

I slid down the wall until I sat on the wet tile, water still pouring over me, now gone cold.

My body hummed with aftershocks and my mind screamed.

I had just let my sister’s fiancé go down on me while she slept twenty feet away. And the worst part... the part that would haunt me for years, wasn’t the guilt that followed. It was the quiet, undeniable truth humming under my skin.

I so desperately wanted him to do it again.