Craving my Stepbrother

Midnight Collision

The house was too quiet.

Even with its massive size, the silence pressed in around me as I padded down the hallway in my socks. My stomach grumbled—I hadn’t eaten much at dinner, too distracted by the weight of Liam’s stare burning into me across the table.

Liam.

I hated how easily his name slipped into my thoughts, how my pulse betrayed me every time I thought about his smirk. My stepbrother. My stepbrother I had known for all of one day, and already he was making me feel things I shouldn’t.

The floor-to-ceiling windows spilled pale moonlight across the marble tiles as I made my way to the kitchen. The house was labyrinthine, but I’d memorized the path earlier. The fridge light glowed when I opened it, and I pulled out a bottle of water and a slice of cold pizza left over from the caterers.

That’s when I heard it—low music, pulsing faintly from somewhere down the hall.

Curious, I set my water down and followed the sound. The closer I got, the more distinct it became: a heavy, thumping beat, paired with the faint scent of smoke and cologne.

I pushed a door open slightly, and my breath caught.

It was his room.

The lights were dim, a single lamp casting a golden glow. Posters lined the walls, along with a set of expensive speakers. A guitar leaned against the bed, carelessly abandoned. And sprawled across the mattress like he owned the world—was Liam.

He was shirtless, lying back with one arm tucked behind his head, his phone in his other hand. His abs flexed with every lazy movement, tattoos cutting across his chest in bold, dark lines. A cigarette smoldered in the ashtray beside him.

I should’ve left. I knew that. But my feet refused to move.

“Enjoying the view, princess?” His voice was smooth, lazy, but it jolted me like a slap.

My cheeks burned. “I—I wasn’t—”

He chuckled, sitting up slightly, those sharp eyes locking on me. “You weren’t watching me? Then why are you still standing there?”

I opened my mouth, but no sound came out. My brain screamed at me to run, but my body stayed rooted to the spot.

Liam swung his legs over the side of the bed and stood. My heart stuttered as he crossed the room with slow, measured steps, every muscle in his body moving with predatory grace. He stopped just in front of me, so close I had to tilt my head back to meet his eyes.

“You’re lucky Dad and your mom are asleep,” he murmured, leaning down so his lips brushed near my ear. His breath was warm, teasing. “Otherwise, they might hear how fast your heart is beating right now.”

I swallowed hard, heat flooding my chest. “You’re an ass.”

His smirk deepened. “Maybe. But you like it.”

I tried to step back, but my shoulder hit the doorframe. He noticed, his gaze darkening, lips twitching like he was fighting the urge to laugh.

“Careful,” he whispered, his fingers brushing a strand of hair behind my ear. The touch was featherlight but electric. “Keep sneaking around my room at night, and people might start thinking you want something from me.”

The air was thick, charged, almost unbearable. I hated how much my body betrayed me—my breath shallow, my skin burning under his touch.

“I wasn’t sneaking,” I managed, my voice barely above a whisper.

“Oh, right,” he drawled, leaning closer, his nose nearly brushing mine. “You just happened to wander into my room, in the middle of the night, wearing that little tank top…” His eyes dragged down, lingering at my chest before flicking back up. “…and you expect me to believe it’s innocent?”

Heat exploded across my cheeks. I hadn’t even thought about what I was wearing—just a thin tank and shorts, meant for sleeping. But the way he looked at me made me feel naked.

“I don’t care what you believe,” I shot back, but the words wavered, weak even to my own ears.

His smirk faded into something sharper, darker. He leaned one hand against the wall beside my head, caging me in. My breath hitched.

“Liar,” he whispered.

For a second, I thought he might kiss me. The world shrank to nothing but his mouth hovering over mine, the heat of his body pressing close, the forbidden ache coiling deep in my stomach.

But then—he pulled back.

“Run along, princess,” he said smoothly, stepping away with infuriating ease. “Before you get yourself in trouble.”

He flopped back onto his bed like nothing had happened, grabbing his phone again. The music thumped back to life.

I stood frozen, my heart pounding so hard it hurt. My lips tingled, my body screamed for something I shouldn’t want.

I stumbled out of his room, slamming the door behind me.

But the worst part?

As I leaned against the cool wall, trying to steady my breath, I realized I wasn’t just shaken.

I was hungry for more.