Tous les chapitres de : Chapitre 41 - Chapitre 50

Morning light streamed through the thin curtains, painting golden lines across the living room floor. I stirred on the couch, body aching deliciously from the night before.Liam’s arm was slung possessively over my waist. Drew sat at the edge of the couch, shirtless, staring out the window like he hadn’t slept.For a moment, I let myself pretend this was normal.That I wasn’t lying naked between my stepbrothers. That my thighs weren’t sticky from shared heat. That the air didn’t still taste like sex.I moved slightly, and Liam groaned behind me. His lips brushed my shoulder. “Good morning, trouble.”Drew glanced over his shoulder, eyes heavy with something unreadable. “You okay?”I sat up slowly, tugging a throw blanket over myself even though they’d seen all of me already. “I should be asking you two that.”Liam grinned. “Best night of my life.”Drew didn’t smile. Not quite. But his hand brushed mine, and I didn’t pull away.“Last night…” I began.“Was real,” Drew said.Liam sat up t

The hot water streamed over my skin, but it did nothing to cool the heat simmering deep inside me.Logan had kissed me—barely. His lips had only brushed mine, but it was enough to set something dangerous into motion. A hunger I didn’t want to name. A pulse that wouldn’t quit.I should’ve pushed him away. I should’ve slapped him.But I didn’t.Now, every second alone in this house felt like a countdown to something I couldn’t stop.Steam filled the bathroom, curling around my body. I closed my eyes and leaned against the tile, biting my lip to keep from thinking about him. About the way he looked at me like he knew every secret I didn’t want to confess.A soft knock on the bathroom door made me jolt.My heart pounded.I grabbed a towel and wrapped it around myself. “What?” I called out, breathless.His voice was a low rumble, just on the other side. “Don’t panic. I’m not coming in.”“Then why are you at the door?” I snapped, clutching the towel tighter.“I heard the water running. Just

It was past midnight when I felt the sting.Not the emotional kind—that dull, throbbing ache had made a home in me ever since Noah walked out. No, this was physical. Sharp, tight, urgent. My breasts were full again. Painfully so. And the baby had finally, finally fallen asleep.I sat cross-legged on the living room couch, an oversized hoodie clinging to my post-pregnancy curves, nipples hard and leaking beneath the fabric. I didn’t even bother with a bra anymore—what was the point when I was constantly nursing or crying?“You okay?”I flinched. Liam’s voice came from the kitchen doorway, deep and calm like a warm blanket—and just as dangerous. He was shirtless again, his military-cut hair damp from the shower. A dish towel hung from his shoulder, and those gray sweatpants hugged him far too well.“I didn’t mean to scare you,” he added, walking closer. “I just… heard something. You groaned.”I hadn’t even realized I did. “Sorry. Just sore. They’re… full again.” I glanced down at my che

The house was too quiet.I could hear the hum of the refrigerator from down the hallway, the occasional groan of the old pipes behind the walls, and the creak of the floorboards as I tiptoed back to my room. Our parents had gone away for the weekend—some wine retreat up north—and left the two of us alone.Me.And Jace.My stepbrother.I hated how my skin prickled just thinking about him. Not because I hated him, but because I didn’t. I hated that he lived in my bloodstream, that his voice curled in my spine like smoke, and that every time he walked around shirtless, I wanted to sink to my knees and forget how wrong it was to feel this way.Jace was lounging on the couch earlier, damp from his shower, towel slung over his neck, abs glistening, one knee bent while he scrolled through something on his phone. His jeans sat low on his hips, just low enough to make me feel dizzy.“Hey, Lila,” he’d said, voice rough like gravel and sin. “You always blush this much, or is it just for me?”I’d

“You shouldn’t look at me like that, Sophie.”His voice was low, commanding, the kind that made your thighs clench and your breath hitch.But he wasn’t just any man.He was my stepbrother.And now… my professor.⸻It started with a name on a syllabus.Professor Nathan Hale – Advanced Romantic Literature.I’d stared at it for a full minute, heart thudding in disbelief. No. It couldn’t be him. Nathan left years ago—after graduation, after our parents’ awkward marriage made us step-siblings and roommates in a house full of tension and late-night glances that lingered too long.But when he walked into the lecture hall, tall and effortlessly confident in that fitted navy shirt and charcoal slacks, I knew. It was him.Older. Broader. Sexier. Dangerous.His eyes swept the room, and for the briefest second, they landed on me—and held.My stomach dropped. My thighs pressed together.He knew.He pretended not to. Throughout the lecture, he spoke like any professor would—cool, composed, distant.