Craving my Stepbrother

The Almost Kiss

The morning after was torture.

Every time I caught Liam’s gaze across the breakfast table, I felt the ghost of his body pinning me against the wall. His smirk told me he hadn’t forgotten, either.

Mom and his dad chatted obliviously, sipping coffee, but under the table, Liam brushed his foot against mine. Casual. Like he was testing me.

I jerked back, shooting him a glare. His smirk widened.

“You okay, honey?” Mom asked.

“Fine,” I said too quickly, shoving toast into my mouth before Liam could say anything.

He didn’t need to, though. The glint in his eyes said enough: This isn’t over.

---

That night, I locked my bedroom door.

Or at least, I thought I did.

I was curled up in bed with my laptop when the handle clicked. My heart jumped into my throat.

The door swung open. Liam stepped inside, shirtless again, sweatpants hanging dangerously low on his hips.

“You didn’t lock it properly,” he said, smirking as he shut it behind him. “Good thing it was just me.”

“Get out.” My voice came out sharper than I meant, mostly because my pulse was already racing.

He leaned against the door, folding his arms over his chest. “Relax, princess. I’m not here to start trouble.”

“You are trouble,” I shot back, slamming my laptop shut. “Now leave.”

He tilted his head, pretending to think. “Hmm. No.”

I scrambled out of bed, storming toward him, but he moved first—closing the space between us until I nearly collided with his chest.

“Why are you doing this?” I demanded, glaring up at him.

His eyes darkened, his jaw tightening. “Because you look at me like you hate me. But your body tells a different story.”

Before I could protest, he pressed a hand against the wall beside my head. The same move as last night—but this time, his face dipped lower, his lips barely an inch from mine.

My breath caught. The room felt too small, the air too thick. Every nerve in my body screamed to push him away, but my heart… my heart begged me not to.

“Say you don’t want this,” he whispered, his lips ghosting over mine. “Say it, and I’ll walk out.”

My chest rose and fell in ragged breaths. The words stuck in my throat.

I should’ve said it. I should’ve pushed him away.

Instead, I froze.

And that was all he needed.

His nose brushed mine, his lips so close I could taste his breath. The heat rolled off him, intoxicating, wrong in every way—yet I couldn’t stop leaning into it.

But then—

A knock at the door.

“Sweetheart?” Mom’s voice floated through. “Can I come in for a sec?”

I nearly jumped out of my skin. Liam’s grin flashed, wicked and amused.

He pressed a finger against his lips, then leaned in—brushing the barest hint of a kiss against the corner of my mouth. A touch so light it could’ve been an accident, but it wasn’t.

Then he pulled back, slipping out my door with silent, lethal grace.

By the time I opened it, Mom was standing there with a laundry basket, none the wiser.

But my lips still burned.

And I knew one thing with terrifying certainty—

I was losing the fight.