Off Limits: My One-Night Stepbrother

chapter 9: Please_

*Ariana's Pov*

“Are you sure you're alright.You don't look so good.” My mom’s eyes were sharp now, concern cutting through her casual tone.

I forced a laugh, too high, too brittle "Water went down wrong.”

I shot a glare across the table at Kian. He didn’t flinch. He just took another slow sip of coffee, eyes half-lidded like he wasn’t the reason my hands were gripping the edge of the chair so hard my knuckles hurt.

The vibration shifted. Slower, more deliberate.

I bit down on the inside of my cheek until I tasted metal. Every muscle in my body locked up, trying to stay still, to look normal. My legs felt like they might give out if I tried to stand.

My stepdad lowered the paper. “You’re sure you’re okay? You look like you’re about to pass out.”

“I said I’m fine!” The words tore out of me louder than I meant. The room went quiet.

I winced immediately. “Sorry. I didn’t mean to— just… eat your food. Please. Let’s all eat.”

Kian’s mouth quirked, but he didn’t say anything. He just watched me, calm and infuriating, like he knew exactly how close I was to losing it.

My mom exchanged a look with my stepdad.

“Well,” my mom said carefully, “since you’re awake, we should tell you. Your stepdad and I are heading out of town for a week. Flight’s this evening.”

A week. Relief hit me so hard I almost sagged in the chair.

“Okay,” I managed. “That’s… good. Have fun.”

“Are you sure you’re alright to be alone?” my stepdad asked, frowning.

“I’m twenty-three” I said through gritted teeth. “I’ll be fine.”

Silence stretched again. The only sound was the scrape of cutlery, slow and deliberate, as everyone finished the last of their food. I couldn’t move. If I stood up now, I wasn’t sure I could make it to the stairs.

My mom finally pushed her plate away. “Alright. We’ll let you rest. We’re packing up now. And don’t worry, you won’t be completely alone anyway — Kian will be here.”

Footsteps moved around the table. Chairs scraped back. My stepdad gave me a final once-over before nodding and following my mom out.

The dining room went quiet except for us.

The moment the front door clicked shut, the tension snapped.

I couldn’t hold it back anymore. A shaky breath escaped me, and with it, a sound I couldn’t swallow down.

My head dropped forward onto the table, eyes squeezing shut.

Across from me, Kian finally set his cup down. I didn’t look up. I didn’t need to. I could feel his gaze.

I mouthed one word across the table, silent and desperate: _Please._

The vibration shifted again, slower this time, deeper, like it knew exactly how close I was. My breath hitched, then broke. A shaky gasp tore out of me before I could bite it down, raw and unfiltered.

Heat flooded my face. My head fell back against the chair, eyes squeezing shut as another sound slipped past my lips — low, helpless, mortifying.

My fingers dug into the edge of the table, knuckles white, body jerking slightly with each pulse. I couldn’t sit still. I couldn’t stop the small, restless movements, the way my legs trembled under the table, the way my breathing came fast and uneven, like I’d been running.

“Stop—” I tried to say it, but it came out as a broken whisper, more breath than word.

And then it stopped.

Just like that.

The silence that followed was worse than the noise. My whole body sagged like a string had been cut, and I realized I’d been holding my breath. Cold sweat clung to my skin, and my chest heaved as I tried to drag air back into my lungs.

It wasn’t relief. Not total.

Because it was still inside me.

Because twenty-four hours didn’t end with one moment.

He stood. Slow.

I kept my eyes shut, couldn’t bear to look at him. Couldn’t bear to see that infuriating calm on his face.

The chair scraped as he pushed it back. Footsteps. One. Two.

He stopped beside me.

I felt the heat of him before anything else.

“Look at me, Ariana,” he said. Low. Not loud, but it cut through everything anyway.

I didn’t.

“Now.”

Something in his voice made my eyes snap open against my will.

He was watching me like I was a problem he’d solved, not a person. His expression hadn’t changed. No smirk, no gloating. Just that same controlled, unreadable mask.

“You did well,” he said.

The words hit me harder than if he’d yelled.

My throat worked, but nothing came out.

“For now,” he added, like it was an afterthought. His hand came down on the back of my chair, fingers resting there like he owned it. “That’s enough.”

Relief crashed through me so fast it made me dizzy, but it was temporary. Shallow. The reminder sat heavy in my gut — this wasn’t over. Not even close.

He leaned down slightly, close enough that I could smell coffee and something sharper, colder.

“Don’t think this is over,” he murmured, voice meant only for me.

Then he straightened, stepped back, and walked away.

I didn’t move until I heard his footsteps fade.

Only then did I let myself collapse against the chair, shaking, my face burning with a mix of humiliation and something I refused to name.

The house was quiet again. Too quiet.

And for the first time all morning, I could breathe. But I wasn’t free.

I pushed off the chair, legs shaky, and forced myself upright. My chest was still heaving, but I wasn’t going to stay at that table and let him see how much it had broken me.

I didn’t go to my room.

My feet moved on their own, carrying me to the right of the hallway. Kian’s room.

The door was half open. He was on the bed, phone in hand, acting like I didn’t exist.

“I can’t do this anymore,” I said. My voice cracked, still rough from before.

“You should’ve thought about that before making a bet you weren’t sure you’d win.”

Kian didn’t look up.

I stepped further in, hands gripping the doorframe like it was the only thing keeping me standing. “ Change it. Anything but this. Pick a punishment, a chore, a month of silence—I don’t care. Just not this.”

He scrolled.

My words came faster, tumbling over each other. “Kian, please. You win. I’ll say it. I lost. Fine. But I’m done. I can’t—”

He set the phone down and opened his laptop on the desk. The screen cast a cold light over his face. He didn’t reply.

That was worse than a no.

I crossed the room in three steps and closed the laptop lid with a soft click. My hands stayed on it, like if I let go he’d disappear back into that calm mask.

“I agree,” I said quietly. “I’ve lost. You win. But I’m taking it off. I like keeping my word, but I can’t do this.”

For the first time, he looked at me. No smirk. No mockery. Just a long, unreadable stare.

He didn’t answer.

He stood. walking towards me.

My breath caught. I took a step back, then another, the back of my knees hit the edge of the bed, and I lost my balance.

I fell back against the mattress, my hands flew out to brace myself, fingers clutching the bedspread.

Kian didn’t stop.

He followed the movement, bracing one hand on the mattress beside me and lowering himself until he was leaning over me.

I could feel the heat of him, the weight of him in the space above me.

"And what if I don’t want you to take it off?” And then I feel it again- he's turned it on-an electrifying sensation passes through me "Kian...... please - ahhh" it slipped out before I could stop it. I try to muffle my moans.