Forbidden Desires With My Stepbrother

Lena's POV

I should have walked away.

Instead, I followed Damian through the side door into a bathroom I didn't know existed. A first-aid kit already open on the counter, as if violence here was routine.

He leaned against the sink, watching me in the mirror. "You following me now, princess?"

"You're bleeding on the floor."

"So?"

I wet a cloth and stepped between his legs before I could talk myself out of it. His thighs bracketed mine. He didn't move. Didn't help.

I pressed the cloth to his split knuckles. He didn't flinch. "You do this often?" I asked.

"Only when people annoy me."

I ran the cloth over his raw skin, slow and methodical. His breathing changed. Almost imperceptible. But I felt it, the shift, the tension coiling tighter beneath his silence.

"People annoy you a lot."

His eyes dropped to my mouth. "Some more than others."

I looked up. The cloth paused. The air between us turned thick, heavy, too small for both of us.

He tilted his head, "You always nurse strays, or am I special?"

"Don't flatter yourself."

"You're the one between my legs."

I pressed harder than necessary. His jaw tightened, but he didn't pull away.

"Careful," he murmured.

"Or what?"

He took the cloth from my hand. His fingers brushed mine, then wrapped around my wrist. Not tight, but not letting go either.

"Or I might start thinking you like being close to me."

I should have laughed. Should have stepped back. Should have done anything except sit in the heat of his grip and let my pulse betray me.

I did none of those things.

"You think everything is about sex," I said.

His thumb pressed into my pulse point. Feeling me race, knowing exactly what he did to me.

"No," he said quietly. "I think you walk around this house in tiny clothes and careless defiance with no idea what you're waking up."

His free hand caught my jaw. "Don't start something you can't finish."

My breath caught.

His thumb dragged across my lower lip, testing.

"If I kissed you right now," he said, "you'd let me."

"Maybe."

His eyes darkened. "And then what?"

"You tell me."

Something broke behind his eyes. Or maybe it was me. He leaned in, slow, giving me time to stop, daring me not to then the bathroom door opened.

Richard Blackwood stood in the doorway.

He didn't shout. Didn't react the way a father should. He just stood there, hands clasped behind his back, expression pleasant in a way that made my stomach turn inside out.

Like he'd been waiting for this exact moment.

Damian didn't move. His hand stayed on my jaw. His body stayed between my legs. If anything, he shifted closer.

"Father."

"Damian." Richard's gaze moved to me. "I see you've made yourself comfortable."

I tried to pull back but m Damian's grip held. "Lena was just leaving," Damian said.

"Was she?"

The silence stretched. Richard smiled, but It didn't reach his eyes. "You know," he said, "I had hoped this might happen."

My blood went cold. Damian's hand finally dropped. He straightened, turning to face his father, positioning himself between me and the door.

"Careful," Damian said softly.

Richard tilted his head. "Careful? I'm not the one who found my son with his hands on his stepsister."

The word landed like a slap. I slid off the counter. Damian's arm caught my waist, steadying me. I should have pulled away but didn't.

Richard noticed, his smile sharpened.

"You have no idea what you've walked into, do you, Lena?" He stepped back into the hallway, leaving the door open behind him. "Your mother told me you were clever. Let's hope she was right."

He paused. "You're going to need it." Then he was gone.

I stood frozen, Damian's hand still at my waist, my heart pounding against my ribs. "What does he mean?" I whispered.

Damian didn't answer.

I turned. His face was unreadable. But his hand tightened on my hip, and when he looked at me, there was something I hadn't seen before.

Fear.

"Damian."

He pulled me closer. Not seduction now, something else, something desperate. "Stay away from him," he said.

"Who? Your father?"

He didn't answer. His forehead pressed to mine, his breath came uneven. "You should have stayed out of this house, Lena."

"Tell me what's happening."

He shook his head once. Then his mouth was on my forehead, my temple, the corner of my lips, not kissing, just breathing me in, like he was memorizing something he couldn't keep.

"Stay away from him," he repeated.

"Damian"

"Promise me."

I opened my mouth.

From somewhere in the mansion, a door slammed, footsteps echoed. Damian released me.

He was gone before I could speak.

I stood alone in the bathroom, Damian's blood still on my hands, my mother's terrified face flashing behind my eyes.

I looked at the door Richard had left open. The hallway beyond was dark. But I could have sworn I saw someone standing in the shadows.

Watching, waiting and smiling.