In Love With Him

Chapter 8

Kennedy’s POV

I couldn’t believe he did that.

No, scratch that — I could believe Dominic did that. The cocky jerk had no boundaries. But what I really couldn’t believe… was that I almost stayed.

I almost stood there, naked in the shower, letting the steam fog everything up while Dominic stood a few feet away. I almost waited to see what he would do. I almost wanted to see what he would do.

And the worst part?

I couldn’t stop thinking about it.

The image of him climbing into the shower, his skin wet, muscles slick with soap, warm breath mingling with mine as his hands touched—

I groaned and slammed my pillow over my face.

Stop. Just stop.

My body was betraying me. The heat in my stomach pooled lower, my thighs tensed, and I had to shift just to breathe again. This wasn’t just a stupid little crush anymore. It was temptation in its purest, most annoying, most muscular form.

I had to get a grip.

Just then, my phone buzzed. Marty.

Marty:

Party tonight. Bonfire at the beach. You're coming. No excuses.

I sighed.

Me:

Not in the mood.

Her response came immediately.

Marty:

You need this. Come on. Cute boys. Hot air. Alcohol. Chaos. It'll be good for you.

Me:

No drinking. No smoking. No random dudes. I'm not Marty-ing tonight.

Marty:

😂 Whatever. You’re still going. I’ll be at your house in 10.

I blinked at the screen.

Then, almost against my own will, I typed back:

Me:

Fine. But just for a little while.

As soon as I hit send, I stared at the message like it wasn’t from me. I never said yes to parties. But maybe… maybe I needed to feel normal. Needed to breathe. Needed to be anywhere but in the same house as Dominic.

Because that shower wasn’t just a moment — it was a damn warning sign. And I was already tiptoeing too close to it.

Ten minutes later, Marty and Finn showed up, storming into the house like they lived there. Marty had on a ripped crop top and high-waisted shorts, looking like a glittery Pinterest board. Finn wore a floral button-up halfway open and the shortest shorts I’d ever seen. His nails were a different color on each finger.

“Kennedy!” Marty yelled. “Where’s your outfit?”

I stepped out of my room, dressed in my usual “I hate being looked at” beach attire: an oversized black hoodie and leggings. Hair in a ponytail. Barely-there lip balm.

Both of them gasped.

Marty actually clutched her heart like I’d offended her ancestors. “Absolutely not.”

“Ken,” Finn said in horror, “you’re going to a beach party, not a funeral.”

“This is comfortable,” I argued, folding my arms.

“This is illegal,” Marty said. “C’mon.”

Before I could protest, they were dragging me back into my own room. I was stripped, judged, and redressed in less than five minutes.

I stood in front of the mirror blinking at my reflection.

Tight high-waisted black shorts. A form-fitting deep red crop top that showed just a peek of underboob. Black choker necklace. Messy hair now transformed into soft waves. Lip gloss, mascara, and smudged liner made my blue-gray eyes pop.

Marty looked proud.

Finn looked like he wanted to cry.

“I created a monster,” he whispered dramatically. “A hot monster.”

I flushed. “It’s too much.”

“It’s perfect,” Marty said, tugging the top lower. “Now let’s go make some mistakes.”

I groaned but grabbed my phone and followed them out the door.

Mistakes were inevitable tonight.

---

Dominic’s POV

Amber moaned underneath me. Her skin glistened with sweat, her voice breathy and high-pitched as her nails dragged across the sheets.

She was beautiful. Blonde, tan, fit—exactly my type. The kind of girl who usually did the trick without much effort. No complications. No strings.

But tonight… something was off.

I tried to focus. Her body was moving with mine, her moans were getting louder, her hips were arching just the way I liked—but I wasn’t in it. My muscles worked like instinct, my pace quickened, and yet my mind…

Was somewhere else entirely.

Flashes of that damn shower filled my head.

Kennedy. Wet. Bare. Breathless.

Her back curved under the water, strands of dark hair stuck to her pale skin like ink on porcelain. Her neck long and delicate. The droplets sliding down the small of her back. The soft gasp she made when she saw me.

I could still hear it.

Amber cried out again, her voice rising as I moved harder. Faster.

I closed my eyes.

And for just a second, I whispered—

“…Kennedy.”

The name barely left my lips. Quiet. Automatic.

But it was loud enough.

Amber turned her head, hair sticking to her cheek as she glanced over her shoulder. “What’d you say, Daddy?”

My eyes flew open, blood chilling for half a heartbeat.

Fuck.

Think fast. Think fast.

I smirked, keeping my grip firm on her waist. “I said come for me, baby.”

She didn't question it. Too wrapped up in herself. Her body tensed, her breath hitched, and a moment later she was crying out again, burying her face into the pillow as she came. I followed a second later, finishing with a guttural sound—drained, but not satisfied.

Not even close.

We cleaned up in silence. I tugged on my shirt and stared blankly out her window as she fixed her hair in the mirror.

“That was fun,” she said lightly, adjusting her top. “Hey, there’s a bonfire tonight on the beach. Wanna come?”

I didn’t answer right away.

Part of me wanted to get in my car and head home. Maybe annoy Max, maybe crash on the couch and pretend to watch something dumb. Maybe sneak a glance at Kennedy while she wrote that essay she kept working on.

Just… be near her.

“Maybe next time,” I muttered.

Amber pouted and slid her hand down my chest. “You sure? Could be fun.”

I sighed. “Yeah. I’m sure.”

Her brows knit together, but she didn’t argue. “Okay… but will you at least give me a ride?”

Of course she would ask.

“Yeah. Let’s go.”

Amber lived in a mansion. The kind of place with columns, palm trees, and white stone steps that led nowhere important. She practically skipped to the Camaro, and I climbed into the driver’s seat, keeping my eyes forward.

She tried placing her hand on my thigh halfway through the drive. I shifted in my seat, pretending I needed to adjust the gear.

When we pulled into the beach parking lot, music was thumping in the distance. Orange flames from the bonfire flickered just beyond the dunes. Amber leaned over to kiss me.

I turned slightly, giving her my cheek.

She paused. “Call me sometime?”

I gave a half-shrug. “Yeah.”

She smiled, obviously not buying it, and stepped out. Her heels clicked down the stone stairs toward the sand, hips swaying with purpose.

I let out a breath, fingers tightening around the steering wheel.

I should go.

But something caught my eye.

A flash of pale skin.

Black shorts. Red crop top.

Kennedy.

My pulse jumped. She was walking toward the party with that little Asian friend of hers and the overly flamboyant guy who always wore glitter. I would've laughed—except…

The outfit.

That was not what she usually wore. I knew her vibe. Oversized hoodies. Ripped jeans. Dark colors. Hair up and messy. Head down.

But tonight?

Her hair flowed around her shoulders like soft waves. Her lips were shiny, and that tiny top barely covered anything. Her waist, those thighs, the sway of her hips as she walked…

Every single guy at that party would be looking.

And the thought made my stomach twist.

I turned the engine off. Got out of the car.

I told myself it was just to make sure she was okay. That I was being protective. Older stepbrother instincts, right?

Bullshit.

I just couldn’t stand the idea of her dancing with someone else, someone else... touching her.