Off limits: My Brothers Best friend

Sleep refused to come.

I tossed and turned in the narrow guest bed, the thin sheet tangled around my legs, the distant roar of the ocean doing nothing to quiet the storm inside my chest. Every time I closed my eyes, I saw Damien’s face in the firelight, his intense stare, the way his voice had dropped when he said my name like it was something precious and forbidden at the same time.

It was past midnight when I finally gave up. The house was silent except for the creak of old wood and the soft hum of the fridge downstairs. I slipped on a light hoodie over my tank top and shorts, grabbed a blanket, and crept out to the deck.

The beach stretched dark and endless below, the bonfire long reduced to glowing embers. I settled into one of the lounge chairs, pulling the blanket around me, and stared at the stars. The cool night air brushed my skin, but it did little to cool the heat still simmering under my surface.

A soft footstep behind me made me freeze.

“You should be in bed, little Ellis.”

Damien’s voice was low, rough from lack of sleep. He stepped onto the deck, wearing only gray sweatpants that hung low on his hips. No shirt. The moonlight carved shadows across the defined lines of his chest and abdomen, and I had to force my gaze back to his face.

“I couldn’t sleep,” I whispered, clutching the blanket tighter.

He didn’t ask why. Instead, he dropped into the chair beside mine, close enough that our arms nearly brushed. For a long moment, neither of us spoke. The silence felt charged, alive with everything we weren’t saying.

“You know this is dangerous, right?” he finally murmured, eyes fixed on the dark water. “You sitting out here with me. Alone. Looking like that.”

“Looking like what?” My voice came out smaller than I intended.

“Like you want something you’re not supposed to have.” He turned his head, and our eyes locked. “Like you’ve been thinking about me the same way I’ve been thinking about you.”

My breath hitched. Shyness warred with the bold rush of adrenaline his words triggered. “You… you think about me?”

Damien let out a short, humorless laugh. “More than I should. You’re Marcus’s sister. You’re only eighteen. I’m twenty-one. This could blow up everything.”

“I know,” I said softly. But I didn’t move away. “Yet here you are.”

He ran a hand through his messy hair, jaw clenched. “Yeah. Here I am. Fighting the urge to do what I’ve wanted to do since I saw you in that swimsuit today.”

Heat flooded my face and lower. I shifted in the chair, suddenly aware of how thin my shorts were, how little fabric separated us. “What did you want to do?”

Damien’s gaze darkened. He leaned closer, one hand gripping the arm of my chair. “Touch you. Kiss you until you forget every reason this is wrong. Hear what sounds you make when you’re not being so damn quiet and shy.”

The confession hung between us, raw and electric. My heart hammered so loudly I was sure he could hear it. I had never been kissed. Never been touched the way his words promised. And yet, with him, the idea didn’t scare me, it thrilled me.

“I’m not as shy as everyone thinks,” I whispered, surprising myself.

His lips curved into a slow, dangerous smile. “Prove it.”

The challenge lingered. For once, I didn’t overthink. I reached out with trembling fingers and traced the line of his jaw, feeling the rough stubble beneath my skin. Damien’s breath stuttered. His hand came up to cover mine, holding it against his face.

“Elena…” It was half warning, half plea.

Before I could lose my nerve, I leaned in and pressed my lips to his.

It was clumsy at first, my inexperience showing, but Damien took control instantly. He cupped the back of my head, tilting me just right, and deepened the kiss with a hunger that made my toes curl. His mouth was hot, demanding, tasting faintly of salt and the beer from earlier. I melted into him, a soft whimper escaping me as his tongue brushed mine.

He groaned against my lips, the sound vibrating through me. “Fuck, you taste even better than I imagined.”

We kissed like the world might end if we stopped, slow and exploratory one moment, urgent and breathless the next. His free hand slid down my side, stopping respectfully at my waist, but the heat of his palm burned through the thin fabric of my hoodie.

When we finally broke apart, both of us breathing hard, Damien rested his forehead against mine.

“This changes nothing,” he said hoarsely. “You’re still off limits. Marcus would kill me. Your parents would never forgive me.”

“I know,” I whispered, my fingers still tangled in his hair. “But I don’t want to stop.”

He pulled back just enough to look at me, eyes stormy with conflict and desire. “Then we keep this quiet. No one can know. Not yet. Maybe not ever.”

The secrecy should have frightened me. Instead, it sent a thrill racing through my veins.

“Okay,” I agreed, heart soaring even as warning bells rang in the distance. “Our secret.”

Damien kissed me once more, soft this time, almost tender, before standing up. “Go back to bed, Elena. Before I forget every good reason I have to walk away right now.”

I nodded, legs shaky as I rose. As I slipped back into the house, I glanced over my shoulder. He was still watching me, hands clenched at his sides like it took everything in him not to follow.

That night, I fell asleep with the memory of his kiss branded on my lips and the terrifying, exhilarating knowledge that Damien Vale wanted me too.

Even if it was somehow forbidden.