Chapter 2: No Turning Back

Sienna

The sound of the Car’s front door clicking shut cut through the garage like a gunshot.

Jaxon and I froze.

We were still pressed close, sweating profusely and breathing hard. Our skin was damp from what we’d just done.

Not a mistake.

Not an accident.

A choice.

A terrible, perfect, irreversible choice.

“We have to move,” I whispered, chest heaving.

His jaw clenched. He gave one sharp nod.

We scrambled. I yanked up my jeans, fumbling the button with shaking fingers. He dragged his shirt over his head so fast it caught in his hair. The garage light buzzed above us, throwing shadows over the mess we’d left; clothes on the floor, my bra by the toolbox, his belt near the workbench.

The heat from minutes ago was gone. Fear took its place. Sharp. Electric.

“Go,” he ordered in a low, urgent voice. “Your room. Now.” he ordered

“What about you?”

“I’ll stay here. I’ll say I was grabbing something from the car. It’ll look normal.”

Normal.

The word almost made me laugh. We were so far from normal it hurt.

I just nodded, snatched up my bra, and bolted for the side door. My heart hammered loud enough I swore they could hear it.

The hallway inside was warmer than the garage. Shadows stretched across the stairs. Every creak in the wood felt like a gunshot. I held my breath, moving fast, two steps at a time, until I finally slipped into my room, shut the door, and locked it.

The click of the lock was my first real breath. I slid down the door, my back pressed against it, the cold wood grounding me.

My body was still buzzing. Every nerve alive. My lips swollen from his kiss, my thighs sore from his grip, my chest tight with the echo of his voice whispering my name like it belonged to him.

But the fear… oh god, the fear was worse.

Downstairs, voices floated up. My dad’s and Jaxon’s mum were asking about homework, dinner plans, Jaxon answered like nothing had happened. Then the conversations continued.They were calm and normal. Too normal I couldn’t make out the words clearly, and that made it worse. My imagination filled in the blanks. I heard Jaxon smiling with my dad over their continued conversations … like he hadn’t just been buried inside me against a garage wall.

My phone buzzed in my hand.

A text message

Jaxon: Are you okay?

My thumbs hovered. Was I?

No. I wasn’t okay. I’d just had sex with my stepbrother in a dusty garage under a bare bulb and nearly got caught. My hands were still trembling. My chest wouldn’t stop rising and falling like I couldn’t get enough air.

Me: I don’t know. I can’t breathe.

The dots appeared instantly as another message dropped.

Jaxon: Come to my room. Now.

My stomach flipped.

Me: Are you crazy? They’re right downstairs.

Jaxon: They’re watching TV. They won’t move for hours. Please. I need to see you.

Please.

The word made my pulse skip.

I stared at the lock. My brain screamed stay. But my body… my body was already moving. The thought of leaving things unfinished, of ending it with panic and silence, was unbearable.

I turned the lock slowly, eased the door open, and slipped into the hall.

It was quiet. The faint sound of a laugh track drifted from the living room. My heart pounded with every step down the hallway, like the house itself could hear me sneaking toward his room.

When I reached his door, I froze. My hand hovered on the knob. One breath. Two. Then I pushed it open.

Jaxon sat on the edge of his bed, the glow of his phone lighting his face. His eyes snapped up, found me instantly. Relief flickered in them, sharp and raw.

He patted the space beside him.

I closed the door behind me, crossed the room, and sat. The mattress dipped under my weight.

Silence wrapped around us. Heavy. Charged.

“I can’t believe we did that,” I whispered.

“I can’t believe we didn’t do it sooner.” His smirk was faint, tired.

I swallowed hard. “What are we doing, Jaxon? What is this?”

“I don’t know.” His eyes didn’t leave mine. “But I can’t stop thinking about you.”

“Same,” I admitted, voice breaking. “It’s driving me insane.”

His hand slid over mine, fingers weaving through like it was natural. “Don’t lie to me. Don’t lie to yourself. You felt it. The way you look at me… fight me… want me. It’s all part of it.”

“Part of what?”

“Part of us.” He squeezed my hand. “This messy, screwed-up, perfect thing.”

And then his hands were on my face again, pulling me into a kiss that was the opposite of the garage. Slow. Lingering. Deep. His mouth tasted of want and defiance.

I melted. Completely.

“I want you again,” he murmured against my lips. “Here. In bed. Where I can take my time.”

My body answered before my mind could catch up. I tugged at his shirt. He pulled me onto the bed, the sheets soft, the room warm, dim, safer than the garage but no less dangerous.

This time, there was no rush. My hands traced his chest, my mouth pressed to his skin. His breath caught when I slid lower, filling my mouth with him.

“Sienna…” My name tore out of him, desperate. His hands tangled in my hair.

I moved back up, lips swollen, kissing him hard. His hips rocked against mine, slow, steady. He rolled me onto my back, his weight pressing me into the mattress.

His fingers slipped inside me, curling, stroking. My moans spilled into his mouth, muffled, needy. My body arched under him as his other hand squeezed my breast, his teeth grazing my neck.

“God, you’re dripping for me,” he groaned.

“Jaxon…” My voice broke, high and helpless.

He pushed inside, slow, deep, deliberate. Every thrust unhurried, like he wanted to brand me from the inside out.

“This isn’t just sex,” he whispered, forehead against mine. “This is us.”

“Wrong,” I gasped, even as my body clung to him. “So wrong…”

“Then why does it feel so right?”

The rhythm built, his hand working my clit as he thrust deep, steady, relentless. Pleasure tangled with fear, shame, hunger until I couldn’t separate them.

The orgasm came softer than the garage, but deeper. My body trembled, breathless, tears stinging my eyes. His name tore out of me as he groaned into my neck, releasing with a shudder that rocked through both of us.

We collapsed tangled, my head on his chest, his heart hammering against my cheek.

“We can’t do this again,” I whispered when I could finally breathe.

His body stilled. “What?”

“If we get caught, my dad will lose it. This is insane.”

His jaw tightened under my hand.

“Is that what you really think? That we just… stop? Pretend this never happened?”

“No! I just…” My throat closed. “I’m scared, Jaxon. I’m so scared.”

“So what? We’re supposed to go back to fighting over dinner? To acting like nothing’s there?” His voice cut sharp. “That’s not happening.”

He shoved off the bed, sheets ripping away with him. His eyes burned, hard and angry.

“Jaxon..”

“No.” His voice was low, final. “You wanted fire, Sienna. Now you live with the burn. There’s no turning back. Not for me. Not for you.”

He yanked on his sweatpants, jaw locked, and stormed out, the door slamming behind him.

I lay there in his bed, body wrecked, heart racing, his words burning holes into me.

No turning back.