My Stepbrother, My Addiction

== Leah == The moment the door creaked open, I knew my world would never be the same again. I wasn’t prepared for him—not even a little. I’d expected someone awkward. Maybe lanky and polite. A guy who’d nod and smile while my mom forced him into a family photo next to her latest husband, David. But the man who stepped into our lavish Malibu beach house wasn’t just unexpected. He was dangerous. Tall, broad-shouldered, ink running down his arms in dark, wicked vines, he had a smirk that could unlace every inch of self-control I had stitched together since my last mistake. His presence didn’t just take up space. It dominated it. And those eyes? Storm-gray and piercing, like he could see straight through my designer facade, into the dirty little thoughts I hadn’t even allowed myself to think yet. “Hey, princess.” His voice was low, rough like smoke. “You must be Leah.” I blinked, heartbeat catching like static. “You must be in the wrong house.” He chuckled. God, it was the kind of laugh that slithered down my spine and wrapped around my core. “Nah. This is Dad’s place. Guess that makes you my new little sister.” Little sister. I wanted to gag on the word. I crossed my arms, jutting out my hip with a confidence I didn’t feel. “You don’t look like someone who shows up with matching Christmas pajamas.” He dropped his duffel on the floor, looked around the marble-floored foyer like he owned it. “That’s because I’m not.” Mom chose that moment to swoop in, her hair perfectly curled, wine glass in one hand like an accessory. “Oh good! You met Jace,” she said, cheeks flushed—probably from the wine, maybe from having him in the house. “Isn’t he handsome?” Mom. Seriously? Jace grinned, flashing dimples that should’ve been illegal. “She’s welcoming. In her own... special way.” “Leah’s a sweetheart,” Mom said, clearly oblivious to the tension crackling in the air. “She’s just finishing her final semester at NYU. Top of her class.” I forced a tight smile. “And what about you, Jace? School?” His smirk widened. “I majored in poor decisions and minored in getting kicked out of boarding schools.” Mom tittered like it was the most charming thing she’d ever heard. I rolled my eyes. “I’m gonna take a shower,” I muttered, turning to leave. But I felt his stare burn across my back as I climbed the stairs. And something inside me—something I thought I buried—lit up. *** Later that Night I thought I was safe in my room. Doors locked. Windows drawn. But then I heard it. The soft knock. Followed by the creak. “Seriously?” I groaned, spinning around. He stood there, shirtless, in nothing but gray sweats that hung dangerously low on his hips. “You know,” he said, eyes trailing down my bare legs. “For someone who says I’m not welcome, you left your door unlocked.” “I didn’t.” “Sure about that?” My breath caught. Jace stepped inside, closing the door behind him. My heart thudded like a war drum. “What do you want?” He was quiet for a beat. Then he leaned in, voice brushing against my neck. “To see if what I felt earlier was real.” I swallowed hard. “There’s nothing to feel.” He reached out, tracing a finger from my collarbone to the strap of my silk cami. “That’s a lie, and you know it.” My body betrayed me first—heat pooling, breath hitching, the traitorous way my n*****s tightened against the thin fabric. I hated how he noticed. Hated how I wanted him to notice. “Jace…” I whispered, voice shaking. “You want me,” he said, voice like velvet sin. “But you hate that you do.” He was right. God help me, he was right. “You’re my stepbrother.” “Not by blood,” he replied, lips so close I could feel his breath. And then he kissed me. It wasn’t sweet. It wasn’t careful. It was a wildfire—hot, consuming, and dangerous. I kissed him back, my fingers gripping his shoulders as he backed me against the wall. His hands roamed, memorizing every inch of me like I was something forbidden—and he wanted to sin. And I let him. I craved the chaos. *** The Next Morning Sunlight hit my face like a slap. Reality was an unforgiving mistress. I sat up slowly, sheets tangled around my legs. My cami was off, somewhere on the floor. I wasn’t naked, but the memory of everything we did flooded my mind with shame and wicked delight. A knock on my door made me jump. “I made coffee,” Jace called through the door. “You’ll need it.” I didn’t answer. Couldn’t. My body still buzzed from his touch, but my head screamed at me. What the hell did I just do? *** Downstairs The tension was a noose around my neck when I finally made it downstairs. Jace sat on the kitchen counter, barefoot, shirtless again—because of course he was. He handed me a mug without looking. “Don’t read into it,” he said quietly. “We’re adults. s**t happens.” My jaw clenched. “That wasn’t just ‘s**t,’ Jace. That was—” “Hot?” he interrupted. “Insane? Addictive?” “Wrong,” I snapped. His eyes locked on mine. “Then why are you still thinking about it?” I didn’t have an answer. “Look,” he said, stepping closer. “I don’t do relationships. Never have. But you… you’re in my blood now. And I don’t know if I can stay away.” I stared at him. At the danger in his gaze. At the promise of more chaos. This wasn’t a fling. It was an addiction. And I wasn’t ready to quit. *** That night, I got a text. Unknown Number: “You think sleeping with him is your biggest problem? You have no idea who Jace really is.” My stomach dropped. Me: Who is this? Unknown: Ask him about the fire. Ask him what he’s running from. Before it’s too late.