All Chapters of Claimed By My Stepbrother : Chapter 61 - Chapter 70

The door eased open another inch, the dim hallway light bleeding into the shadows of my room. And then— A shadow filled the doorway. Broad shoulders. A lazy slouch. The faint clink of ice shifting in a glass. And then his smirk. Smug. Unbothered. Like he had all the time in the world. Anya’s boyfriend. Mike? Matt? Mark? Whatever the hell his name was. It didn’t matter.. What mattered was that he was standing inside my room, uninvited, looking at me like I was a goddamn prize he had come to claim. Like I had been waiting for him. My fingers curled around the blanket, nails digging into the fabric as rage surged under my skin. “What the fuck do you think you’re doing?” I snapped, my voice cutting through the thick, suffocating air. His smirk widened as he took a slow, measured step inside, the door creaking further open. "Relax," he drawled, voice slurred, thick with liquor. "Just came to talk." A sour wave of whiskey, beer, and bad decisi

I needed to talk to him. Like, now. This wasn’t something I could just sit on and pretend it wasn’t clawing at my brain. If Ethan really did what I think he did, I had to know. I had to hear it from him, see the look on his face when I asked. But then I froze. Because I realized something very, very important. I didn’t have his number. Shit. I groaned, dragging a hand down my face. How the hell had I spent this much time around him and never thought to ask for his contact? I mean, sure, I had spent most of that time either avoiding him, yelling at him, or questioning my entire existence because of him, but still. Still. I paced my room, muttering under my breath. How was I supposed to find him? It wasn’t like I could just summon him. He wasn’t a damn genie. Or… maybe he was. With the weird, otherworldly thing he had going on, I wouldn’t even be surprised at this point. I grabbed my phone and stared at it like it would magically produce his number.

“I need to go.” The words left my mouth in a rush, my heart still pounding from whatever the hell just happened between me and Ethan. I didn’t wait for a response. I just turned, reaching for the door handle with slightly trembling fingers, pulling it open in one swift motion— And froze. Standing right outside, in the hallway, was my mother. I swallowed. Hard. Without a word, I stepped forward, brushing past her. I could feel her hesitate behind me, feel the moment she turned, as if debating whether to stop me. But she didn’t. I made it down the hallway, my feet moving faster than they should have, like I was fleeing rather than walking. And maybe I was. Because whatever just happened back there? The way Ethan had looked at me, the way I had looked at him— Nope. Not dealing with that. I made it to the grand staircase, my hands gripping the smooth, cold railing as I walked down, my mind still spinning. The mansion felt too big, too empty, yet somehow suffocati

The warmth from the shower still clung to my skin as I stepped out, wrapping a towel around myself before grabbing another to rub through my hair. I padded barefoot upstairs, the wooden steps cool under my feet, and pushed my bedroom door open with my hip. The room was dim, the only light coming from the streetlamp outside my window, casting long shadows against the walls. I walked straight to my bed, tossing my phone onto the nightstand before sitting down and continuing to towel-dry my hair. A soft buzz. I blinked, glancing at my phone. A text from Tess. Tess: Hey, did you do the assignment yet? Mr. Parker is definitely out for blood this time. I groaned, rolling my eyes. Shit. The assignment. I had completely forgotten. Fingers still slightly damp, I typed back a quick response. Me: Crap. No. I completely forgot. Guess I’m dying in class on Monday. Dropping the phone onto my nightstand, I leaned back against my pillows, still rubbing my towel through my h

I couldn’t look away from him. I tried—I really did. But Ethan had this way of pinning me in place with just a look, making it impossible to think, impossible to breathe, impossible to do anything except stand there as the world shrank down to just the two of us. His eyes burned into mine, dark and searching, like he was trying to reach inside me and pull something out—something I wasn’t ready to give. I swallowed hard, my breath coming too fast, and way too shallow. My body was betraying me in the worst possible way and he just stood there, watching me, his expression unreadable except for the storm raging in his gaze. "Don’t you feel it?" His voice was low, raw, barely more than a whisper. "Please, tell me that you feel it." The desperation in his voice made my throat tighten. I did feel it. I felt it in the way my hands trembled at my sides, in the way my pulse pounded, in the way every cell in my body screamed at me to move closer, to close the distance, to