CHAPTER 4: RESISTANCE

I didn’t hear him come in.

I was standing at the counter, pouring leftover coffee into a mug, still half-asleep in one of Josh’s old hoodies that I pretended I hadn’t stolen. The house was quiet. Sarah had left early for a weekend trip with her friends. Richard was locked in his office on a call. For once, it felt like the walls weren’t listening.

Then a warm body bumped into my back.

“Jesus—” I turned, nearly spilling the coffee.

Josh stood right there, close enough that I could smell the soap on his skin. He was 6'1", all lean muscle and easy arrogance, wearing only black sweatpants that hung low on his hips. His chest was solid, abs sharply cut, skin warm-toned and lightly tanned. A few water droplets still clung to his collarbones from a recent shower. His dark brown hair—almost black in this light—was damp and messy, falling over his forehead in loose waves. The sides were cut shorter, clean. A thin pale scar cut through his left eyebrow, and the usual shadow of stubble already lined his sharp jaw.

His eyes found mine. Stormy gray, nearly charcoal, with lighter silver flecks near the pupils. Right now they looked darker than usual, heavy-lidded and focused.

“Morning, little sister.”

I rolled my eyes and stepped sideways, trying not to notice the way his full bottom lip curved when he spoke. “Don’t call me that.”

“Why not?” He reached past me for a glass, his broad chest brushing my shoulder. Veins stood out faintly along his forearm. “That’s what you are.”

“Step,” I corrected, keeping my voice light. “And you’re in my way.”

He poured water slowly, deliberately. “You’re in *my* kitchen.”

“It’s the family’s kitchen.”

“Same thing.” He leaned his hip against the counter and smirked. One side of his mouth lifted higher than the other, a faint dimple appearing in his left cheek. “You always this bitchy before caffeine, or is this special for me?”

I took a sip of coffee just to have something to do with my hands. “You’re one to talk. You walk around half-naked like the house is your personal runway.”

“Jealous?”

“Disgusted.”

Josh laughed under his breath, the sound low and rough. “Liar. You stared last night when I came in from the gym. Your little friends did too.”

My stomach tightened. “They were being dramatic. That’s all.”

“Maya said she wanted me to ruin her.” His voice stayed casual, almost conversational, but those gray eyes stayed locked on mine. “Did you tell her I already ruin you three, four times a week?”

The coffee suddenly tasted bitter. I set the mug down harder than I meant to. “Shut up.”

Josh tilted his head, still smiling, but the look in his eyes had gone darker—almost black. “What? We’re just talking. Sibling talk.”

“You’re being weird.”

“Am I?” He stepped closer. The counter dug into the small of my back. Up close I could see the exact shape of his mouth, the soft pink of his lips, the way the scar through his eyebrow made his expression sharper. “You’ve been quiet since your friends left. Avoiding me. Sleeping with your door locked.”

“Maybe I wanted one night without you sneaking in.”

“That’s cute.” His voice dropped, low and rough, right against my ear. “You think locking the door stops me?”

I went still.

Josh’s hand came up and brushed a strand of hair behind my ear, almost gentle. Then his fingers trailed down the side of my neck, slow enough that I felt every inch. His palm was warm, slightly calloused.

“You’ve been walking around this house acting like nothing’s different,” he murmured. “Sitting across from me at breakfast. Laughing with your friends. Wearing my hoodie like you don’t still feel me between your legs.”

My pulse kicked hard.

He leaned in further, lips almost touching the shell of my ear. “But I know better. I know how wet you get when I talk to you like this. I know how hard you come when I hold you down and make you take it. Don’t I?”

I swallowed. My voice came out thinner than I wanted. “Josh—”

“Say it.” The words were soft, but they landed like a threat. “Tell me you don’t still think about it. Tell me you don’t wake up aching for it.”

I stayed silent.

His hand slid from my neck to my jaw, tilting my face up. His thumb brushed the corner of my mouth. Those stormy gray eyes searched mine, silver flecks catching the light.

“That’s what I thought.”

He dipped his head and pressed an open-mouthed kiss to the side of my throat—slow, deliberate, teeth grazing just enough to make my breath catch. His other hand settled on my waist, fingers slipping under the hem of the hoodie, warm against bare skin. I could feel the solid strength of him, the controlled power in the way he held me.

Then that hand moved lower.

Josh’s palm slid down over my stomach, past the waistband of my shorts, and cupped me firmly between my legs. The heat of his hand soaked through the thin fabric. I sucked in a sharp breath. He didn’t push inside—just pressed, slow and deliberate, rubbing the heel of his hand against me in a lazy circle that made my hips twitch without permission.

“Already warm,” he whispered against my neck, voice dark with satisfaction. “I can feel it. You’re soaked, aren’t you?”

I bit the inside of my cheek, trying not to make a sound as he kept teasing me—light pressure, then a little firmer, his fingers curling just enough to stroke over the most sensitive spot through my shorts. My thighs tensed. A soft, helpless noise still escaped my throat.

Josh chuckled low against my skin. “There she is.” He gave one last slow, deliberate rub, then pulled his hand away completely, leaving me aching and empty.

I should have pushed him away.

Instead I tilted my head slightly, giving him more room.

Josh made a low, pleased sound against my neck. He kissed higher, then lower, then sucked hard enough that I knew it would leave a mark. His hand returned to my waist, pulling me flush against him. I could feel how hard he already was through the thin fabric of his sweatpants.

“Still pretending this is nothing?” he whispered against my skin. “Still acting like you don’t belong to me under this roof?”

My hands had somehow found his chest. Smooth, warm skin over hard muscle. I didn’t remember putting them there.

Josh lifted his head just enough to look at me. His eyes were almost black now. He leaned in like he was going to kiss me—slow, close enough that I felt his breath on my lips, close enough to see the exact shape of that full bottom lip—

Then he stopped.

A small, dark chuckle left him.

He let go of me completely and stepped back, dragging his gaze down my body like he was already imagining what he’d do next.

“You’re already in the mood,” he said, voice almost fond. “Look at you. Flushed. Breathing hard. Bet if I slid my hand back between your legs right now you’d soak my fingers for real.”

I opened my mouth, but nothing came out.

Josh smiled, slow and mean, that one-sided smirk returning. “Maybe later.”

He grabbed an apple from the bowl on the counter, bit into it, and walked out of the kitchen without looking back—broad shoulders shifting, dark hair still damp at the nape of his neck.

I stood there with my back against the counter, heart slamming, the place where his mouth had been still burning, the ghost of his hand still throbbing between my thighs.

The house felt too quiet again.

And I hated how much I already wanted him to come back.