When Forbidden Feels This Good

Scarlett's POV

The Uber driver kept glancing at me in the rearview mirror, probably wondering why I was white-knuckling the door handle like we were heading to an execution instead of a homecoming. If only he knew that the sprawling modern estate perched on the hillside, all glass and steel and impossible wealth, was as foreign to me as the moon.

This wasn't home. Home had been a modest townhouse with creaky stairs and a kitchen that always smelled like my mother's lavender candles. Home had been small and warm, and ours.

This place looked like it belonged in an architecture magazine.

"You sure this is the right address, miss?" The driver's doubt mirrored my own.

I checked my phone again. The pin Mom had sent dropped exactly here. "Yeah. I'm sure."

The car rolled to a stop in front of massive double doors, real wood, probably worth more than my entire college tuition. My stomach did a nervous flip. I'd wanted to surprise Mom for her birthday, flying in early from Florence without telling her. Now I was regretting the dramatic gesture. I should have called first. Should have prepared myself for... whatever this was.

The August heat hit me like a wall when I stepped out, so different from Italy's dry warmth. This was Texas humidity: thick and oppressive, making my sundress cling to my skin. I tipped the driver, grabbed my suitcase, and approached the door before I could talk myself into running.

I rang the bell. Heard it echo inside: a deep, melodious chime that probably cost more than my rent.

Footsteps approached. The door swung open.

And my entire world tilted sideways.

No.

It couldn't be. It couldn't be him.

But it was.

Cade Blackwood stood in the doorway, and my lungs forgot how to function. He was older, twenty-six now, I calculated numbly, but somehow even more devastating than the memory I'd carried for five years. Broader through the shoulders, with muscles that spoke of hard labor rather than gym vanity. His dark hair was longer, falling across his forehead in a way that made my fingers itch to brush it back. Tattoos crawled up his forearms, intricate designs I wanted to trace with my tongue.

Stop it, Scarlett.

He was wearing worn jeans that hung low on his hips and a fitted black t-shirt that did absolutely nothing to hide the body underneath. But it was his face that gutted me: those sharp cheekbones, the strong jaw shadowed with stubble, and those eyes. God, those dark eyes that used to look at me like I was the only thing that mattered in the universe.

Right before he vanished and proved I wasn't.

For a heartbeat, we just stared at each other. I watched recognition slam into him, watched his expression shift from casual greeting to shock to something darker, hungrier. His hand tightened on the doorframe, knuckles going white.

"Scarlett." My name sounded like a curse on his lips. Or a prayer. I couldn't tell which was worse.

"What..." My voice came out hoarse. I cleared my throat and tried again. "What are you doing here?"

Before he could answer, my mother's voice floated from inside. "Cade? Who is it?"

And then she was there, appearing behind him, and my confusion multiplied exponentially. Because Mom was glowing in a way I hadn't seen since before Dad died. She was wearing white linen pants and a silk blouse, looking younger and happier than she had in years. And wrapped around her from behind, hands resting possessively on her waist, was a silver-haired man I vaguely recognized from her F******k photos.

James Blackwood. Tech mogul. Philanthropist. And apparently...

"Surprise, darling!" Mom slipped past Cade, who still hadn't moved and still hadn't stopped staring at me, and pulled me into a crushing hug. She smelled like her signature perfume and joy. "I can't believe you're here! You said you couldn't make it until next month!"

"I wanted to surprise you for your birthday," I managed, hugging her back while my mind raced. "But it looks like I'm the one getting surprised. What's going on, Mom?"

She pulled back, clasping my hands, her smile so bright it almost hurt to look at. "Come in, come in! James, darling, get Scarlett's suitcase. And you remember Cade, don't you? You two went to the same high school, though I think he was a few grades ahead."

Remember him?

I wanted to laugh hysterically. I remembered everything. The rough calluses on his palms when he touched me for the first time. The way he tasted like mint and rebellion. How his voice dropped an octave when he whispered my name in the dark. The sound of his truck door closing as he drove away, leaving me alone in the pre-dawn light with my heart shattered on the floorboard.

"Yeah," I said, forcing my voice steady. "I remember."

Cade finally moved, stepping aside to let me in. As I passed him, I caught his scent: sandalwood and sawdust and something uniquely him, and it hit me like a physical blow. Memories flooded back: his truck bed under a blanket of stars, his body covering mine, the way he made me feel like I was burning alive and drowning all at once.

Our eyes met for a fraction of a second. The air between us crackled with five years of unfinished business.

"Welcome home, Scarlett," he said, voice rough as gravel.

James extended his hand, warm and genuine. "It's wonderful to finally meet you, Scarlett. Rachel talks about you constantly. I'm James Blackwood."

"Nice to meet you," I said automatically, shaking his hand while my brain tried to process. Blackwood. Blackwood "So you're..."

"We got married!" Mom burst out, unable to contain herself any longer. She held up her left hand, showing off a stunning diamond ring. "Two months ago! I wanted to wait to tell you in person. James and I met at a charity gala last year, and everything just clicked. We didn't want to wait, so we had a small ceremony with just our immediate family. And now we're all going to be one big happy family!"

The room spun. Married. My mother had married Cade's father.

Which made Cade my...

"Stepbrother," Cade said quietly, like he could read my thoughts. His jaw was tight, a muscle ticking there that I remembered meant he was barely holding onto his control. "Scarlett and I are technically step-siblings now."

The word felt obscene.

"Isn't it wonderful?" Mom was oblivious to the tension thick enough to choke on. "You two will have time to really bond now. Actually, perfect timing, James and I are leaving tomorrow morning for our proper honeymoon. A month-long Mediterranean cruise! We postponed it because of James's work, but everything's finally cleared up. You and Cade will have the whole house to yourselves. You can get to know each other as siblings!"

Siblings.

I was going to be sick.

"That's... great, Mom. Really great." I pasted on a smile that felt like it might crack my face. "I'm so happy for you."

And I was. Truly. Mom deserved happiness after years of lonely widowhood. But why did her happiness have to collide with my past like a car crash I couldn't look away from?

Dinner was torture. We sat at a massive dining table that could seat twelve, picking at gourmet food I couldn't taste. Mom and James were too wrapped up in their happiness to notice the tension. They talked about the wedding, the cruise, their plans for the future. James was charming and clearly adored my mother. Under any other circumstances, I would have been thrilled for her.

But Cade sat across from me, and I couldn't focus on anything else.

He'd barely touched his food. Every time I looked up, his eyes were on me, dark and intense and full of things we couldn't say. When he reached for his water glass, I noticed new scars on his knuckles. Working man's hands. I remembered those hands on my body, how gentle they could be despite their strength.

Under the table, his foot brushed mine.

I jerked back like I'd been burned. His eyes flashed with something that might have been amusement or frustration or the same desperate confusion I was feeling.

"So, Cade," I said, needing to break the silence before I screamed, "what do you do now?"

"I own a construction company." His voice was measured, careful. "Started it three years ago. We specialize in custom homes and renovations."

"He's being modest," James said proudly. "Blackwood Construction is one of the most sought-after firms in the state. Cade built this house, actually. Designed most of it himself."

I looked around with new eyes. The soaring ceilings, the way natural light flooded every room, the perfect balance of modern and warm. "It's beautiful."

"Thank you." Cade's eyes held mine. "I wanted to create something that felt like home. Somewhere worth coming back to."

The words landed like a punch. Was he talking about the house? Or something else?

"And what about you, sweetheart?" Mom asked. "How's Florence? Are you still loving the restoration work?"

I tore my gaze from Cade. "It's incredible. I've been working on a sixteenth-century fresco that's just... there are no words. But I requested a leave of absence. Thought I'd spend some time here, figure out next steps."

"That's perfect!" Mom clapped her hands. "You can stay as long as you want. This house has plenty of room. Doesn't it, Cade?"

"Plenty," he agreed, but his voice was tight.

After dinner, our parents excused themselves early, they had an early flight and needed to finish packing. Mom hugged me goodnight, whispering how happy she was that I was here, how perfect this all was.

If only she knew.

I escaped to the kitchen for water, needing a moment alone to process the absolute insanity of my life. The house was quiet except for the soft clink of ice in my glass. I leaned against the counter, closed my eyes, and tried to breathe.

"You cut your hair."

The voice came from the doorway: low, rough, and familiar enough to make my knees weak.

I didn't turn around. Couldn't. "Five years is a long time."

"Not long enough." His footsteps were soft on the tile. I felt him before I heard him, heat radiating from his body as he moved closer. "Or maybe too long. I can't decide which is worse."

"Cade..."

"Turn around, Scarlett."

It wasn't a request. I turned, and he was right there, close enough that I had to tilt my head back to meet his eyes. Close enough that I could see the gold flecks in the dark irises, count the days of stubble on his jaw.

"This is insane," I whispered.

"Yeah." His hands gripped the counter on either side of me, caging me in without touching me. "It is."

"Our parents just got married."

"I'm aware."

"That makes us..."

"I know what it makes us." His voice dropped dangerously low. "Doesn't change anything though, does it?"

"It changes everything."

"Does it?" He leaned in, and I could smell him, that intoxicating mix of sandalwood and something darker. "Because I can see your pulse racing in your throat. I can see your breath coming faster. I can see the way your pupils dilate when you look at me. So tell me, sister..." the word was practically obscene the way he said it "...has anything really changed?"

My hands fisted at my sides to keep from touching him. "You don't get to do this. You don't get to look at me like that or talk to me like that. You disappeared, Cade. You fucked me in the back of your truck and vanished like I meant nothing."

Something dark flashed across his face. In one fluid movement, he had me pinned against the refrigerator, his hands braced on either side of my head, his body a wall of heat that wasn't quite touching mine but close enough to make my skin burn.

"Like you meant nothing?" His voice was rough with barely controlled emotion. "Scarlett, you were everything. You are everything. That's why I ran."

"That doesn't make sense."

"I was twenty-one, going nowhere. You were eighteen with a full scholarship to study in Italy, a future so bright it hurt to look at. What was I supposed to do? Trap you in this dead-end town with a guy who had nothing to offer but calloused hands and a construction job?"

"You could have let me choose!" The words tore out of me. "You could have trusted me to decide what I wanted."

"I know." His forehead dropped to rest against mine, and oh God, this was too much and not enough all at once. "I've regretted it every day since. I looked for you everywhere that summer. Called, texted, showed up at your house. But you'd already left for Italy, changed your number, blocked me on everything. And maybe it was better that way. Maybe it was supposed to end."

"Then why..." My voice broke. "Why does it feel like it never did?"

His eyes locked on mine, and the intensity in them stole my breath. "Because you're here. Under the same roof. Forbidden in ways you weren't before. And Scarlett..." His hand lifted, almost touching my face before he caught himself and pulled back. "I've never wanted anything more than I want you right this second."

The air between us was electric, charged with five years of longing and the terrible knowledge of what we couldn't have. I could see his pulse pounding in his throat, matching the frantic rhythm of my own heart. The refrigerator hummed behind me. Somewhere in the house, a clock ticked. The world had narrowed to this moment, this man, this impossible situation.

"So take me." The words escaped before I could stop them.

For a heartbeat, I thought he would. His eyes went molten, his breath coming faster. He leaned in, and I tilted my face up, and we were a fraction of an inch apart...

He jerked back as if I'd scalded him.

"No." The word was harsh, almost violent. He put the width of the kitchen between us, hands raking through his hair. "I won't. I can't. Our parents just got married, Scarlett. They're happy. They deserve to be happy. I won't ruin that. Not for this. Not again."

The rejection stung worse than it had five years ago. "Right. Of course. Wouldn't want to complicate the perfect family reunion."

"Don't." He pointed at me, jaw tight. "Don't make this easy. Don't make me the bad guy when I'm trying to do the right thing."

"The right thing," I repeated bitterly. "And what's that, exactly? Pretend we don't have history? Act like siblings and ignore everything we were?"

"If that's what it takes."

I laughed, but there was no humor in it. "You're delusional if you think that's possible."

"Then what do you suggest?" His voice rose. "We tell them, 'Hey Mom, hey Dad, great wedding, by the way, your son took my virginity five years ago and I've never stopped wanting him?' That'll go over well."

The crudeness of it made me flinch. "Don't."

"That's the reality, Scarlett. That's what we're dealing with. So yeah, we pretend. We stay the hell away from each other. We act like the step-siblings they think we are. Because the alternative destroys everything."

Tears pricked my eyes, but I'd be damned if I let them fall. "Fine. You want distance? You got it. I'll stay on my side of this massive house, you stay on yours. We'll be perfect strangers who happen to share parents."

"Perfect," he bit out.

"Great."

"Fine."

We glared at each other across the kitchen, both breathing hard, the tension so thick I could cut it with a knife.

Then, from upstairs, we heard my mother's voice: "Scarlett, honey? Could you come help me decide which dresses to pack?"

The spell broke. Reality crashed back.

"Go," Cade said quietly. "She's waiting."

I pushed past him, careful not to touch, and headed for the stairs. But at the doorway, I stopped. Turned back.

He was standing at the kitchen window, hands braced on the sink, head bowed like he was praying or fighting or both.

"Cade?"

He didn't turn. "Yeah?"

"For the record, nothing ever happened between us. Keep it that way."

Now he looked at me, and the expression on his face made my stomach flip. "It has to be."

I left him standing there and climbed the stairs to help my mother pack, trying to ignore the way my hands shook, the way my lips still tingled from a kiss that didn't happen, the way my body ached for a touch I couldn't have.

Tomorrow, our parents would leave for a month.

A month alone in this house with the only man I'd ever loved.

The only man who was now legally my brother.

This was either going to be the longest month of my life or the beginning of something that would destroy us both.

Either way, I wasn't walking away again.

Not this time.