All Chapters of Claimed By My Stepbrother : Chapter 131 - Chapter 140

Outside, wind rustled the trees, brushing softly against the cabin walls. Inside, the air was thick with heat. The scent of blood still clung to the space between us, earthy and metallic. But under it, I could smell him—his skin, his warmth, something deeper and more primal that made my stomach twist in a way that confused the hell out of me. Ethan reached forward slowly, and slid his fingers beneath the strap of my bra. He didn’t pull it down. He just let his knuckles rest there, his gaze flicking up to mine. “This is the part where you’re supposed to run, Camila,” he murmured, a crooked smile playing at the edge of his lips. His eyes locked onto mine, unwavering, and I had to look away as his gaze stripped me bare. I swallowed the heat rising in my chest. “Don’t say creepy stuff like that,” I muttered, trying to steady my voice. “I’m doing this so the agency can’t track my scent. That’s all.” He leaned in close, his breath brushing against my ear. “Are you sure, Camila?” h

He nudged the bathroom door open with his shoulder. The moment the door shut behind us, I was met with the cool, earthy scent of eucalyptus soap. The bathroom was lit up by a soft wall sconce, casting a golden glow over the stone tile and deep, clawfoot bathtub. I blinked at the sudden change in light, still a little dazed, my body sore in places I hadn't expected but loose in others I never knew could relax like this. Ethan set me down on the edge of the bathtub, and his eyes flicked over me, lingering at my flushed cheeks, my parted lips, the wet mess still between my thighs. He smiled—softly this time. Less like the cocky smirk he wore when teasing me, and more like… he fucking was proud. “You’re a mess,” he murmured, brushing a strand of hair away from my face. I shot him a soft glare, my voice cracking as I tried to respond. “And whose fault is that?” That earned a quiet chuckle from him. He turned away to twist the handles of the bathtub. Water poured in, slow at f

I knew I said I would do it again… But not immediately after. Like… there should be a grace period, right? Some sort of “cooling off” phase where I could get my heart to stop pounding. I needed at least a little time to remember how to breathe without the sound of his voice making my skin flush. Apparently, Ethan didn’t get the memo. The second he stepped out of the bathroom, still towel-drying his hair with one hand, the other already undoing the drawstring of the sweatpants he’d changed into, I knew I was in trouble. His torso was clean now—no more blood, just pink skin, fresh and damp, still glistening with the heat from the shower. He smelled like soap and skin and something warm and wild underneath it all—his scent still laced with that maddening, addictive edge that made my stomach flutter the second he came near me. I barely had time to blink before he was on me again. His mouth found my neck first, pressing a warm, lazy kiss just below my jaw. I gasped, heart lur

I was seconds away from blacking out. My body was jelly, my brain had melted into soup, and Ethan was wrapped around me like a clingy, smug anaconda. His breath was warm on the back of my neck, his arm heavy across my waist, and I was this close to drifting off when— Riiiiiiing! My body tensed, jerking slightly like a corpse in a horror movie. “What… was that?” I mumbled, voice hoarse and barely above a whisper. “Your phone,” Ethan grumbled, his lips brushing my shoulder. “I put it on the counter.” “I don’t wanna move,” I groaned. He made a quiet noise of amusement and unwrapped himself from me. I barely managed to shift onto my back before I saw him dragging his half-naked, still-glistening-with-sweat self toward the counter like a damn Greek statue come to life. I hated how good he looked doing the bare minimum. He picked up my phone, squinted at the screen, and then glanced back at me with one eyebrow raised. “It’s your mom.” My stomach did a full flip. My mom?

I didn’t know whether to laugh or cry at this point. Somehow, my world had flipped upside down and then shaken like a snow globe. All the things I’d been freaking out about—feeling like a homewrecker, the endless guilt, the stomach-turning shame—Ethan had defused it with a casual "he’s not my dad". Like it was obvious. Like I was the one being dramatic. And maybe I was. But sue me—I’m a girl who overthinks everything and reacts first, thinks later. Always have been. Still, I couldn’t help the little laugh that bubbled up. It slipped from my lips and spilled out into the quiet space between us, light and breathy and tired. Ethan blinked, looking almost startled, but then his mouth curved into the kind of smile that made my heart flutter stupidly. “What’s so funny?” he asked, brushing a strand of hair away from my face. I bit my lip and shook my head, chuckling again. “You. Me. This whole situation. Just... all of it.” He tilted his head. “You mean the part where you wer