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LAURIE

A fter my pep talk before dinner about embracing my fully adult self, I've never felt more like a petulant teenager than I did busting into my room and throwing myself down on the bed.

I want to throw a fucking fit. I want to scream until the windows shatter. Except none of that will help change the mess I've stumbled into.

Letting out a huff, I roll over and stare at the ceiling. The pastel walls creep into my peripheral vision, but it doesn't bother me like it did before. Teenage angst seems appropriate considering the circumstances.

I fell for a guy I had a one-night stand with, ghosted him the next morning, and now he's not only staying in my house with me, he's technically my fucking stepbrother. Gross.

Oh, and did I mention he took my virginity that night?

Grabbing a fluffy pillow, I scream into it, unable to hold it in any longer. This is it, my last night in this house without Adam Lawson for an entire year. Just thinking about it makes me want to clench my teeth.

Why couldn't Mom have just hired a security company if she was so worried? A year of Adam and me coexisting like polite strangers? Impossible. The man might as well have moved into my personal space bubble and set up camp. The nerve of it.

After I've screamed my heart out, I sit up and kick my heels off, one flying to hit the wall while the other clatters to the floor. My arches ache as I stand, shimmying out of the dress and letting the expensive fabric pool at my feet, and throw on my sleep clothes, a soft cotton tank, and matching shorts. I don't plan on leaving the room tonight, if ever, so it doesn't matter what I wear. I just want to be comfortable.

I try to force my mind onto anything else but Adam—movies, upcoming concerts, my social life—but none of it seems to stick. Not with the image of him so recently in my mind. As I wash my face, I consider how good he looked, how polished and well, hot . It made me want to make him messy in all sorts of ways that are now totally forbidden.

But what exactly makes them forbidden?

When I think of the word forbidden , I think of being told I can't do something. But the only person telling me I can't pursue Adam is myself. He didn't say anything about us being off limits, although he was clearly as freaked out by the stepsibling thing as I was.

But then I remember how pissed he was when he confronted me about running away. The hurt in his eyes, the way he seemed desperate to know why I left. The simple truth was that I was a coward. Falling for someone like Adam flew in the face of everything I was trying to accomplish moving to New York to pursue fashion.

I had no idea how much he would haunt me. How much I would think about his kisses, his hands on my skin, how he filled me up so well.

Ugh! I hate it. I hate him. I hate myself for running away.

Now I'm stuck with him for the foreseeable future, and there's nothing I can do about it.

Frustrated and wrung out, I brush my hair and teeth and climb into bed. I let out a long breath, trying to let the tension go, but it follows me into sleep. And before I know it, I’m dreaming.

I fell into the memory, and it was like I was experiencing it all over again.

It started in the brewery where my friend, Elise, had taken me for my last night in town. I was in Charleston for my mother's birthday the previous day, but had gotten the last-minute invitation from Elise that morning. I was due to be on a plane back in the morning and hadn't planned to be out all that late, but time had gotten away from me.

Elise and I were with a group of friends and acquaintances, and I lost track of her when I spotted another large group at the other end of the bar, all dressed in business suits and clearly celebrating something.

And then I see him, standing at the back of the group, his tall frame almost towering over everyone else. He looks at ease, smiling and laughing, but for some reason, he stands out like a beacon. And when he catches my eye across the crowded bar, something in my chest seizes up.

The connection is instant, and I watch his smile fall and get replaced by something much more serious. With black, perfectly cut hair, a dark shadow of stubble on his jaw, and evergreen eyes, he was the sexiest man at the bar by far. But that shouldn't have mattered to me.

I swore off men when I moved to New York to try and get my fashion career off the ground, wanting to focus on my work and nothing more. It was how I ended up a twenty-four year-old virgin at the time, and why I was so thrown off by how strongly I was drawn to Adam.

Then, to my shock, he pushes through the crowd to reach me.

My heart is racing when he makes it to my side, even hotter and more intimidating now that he's up close. But there's something else about him, too, an easygoing nature beneath the professional veneer.

And he only has eyes for me.

"Do I know you?" he asks, waving the bartender down. "I feel like I know you, but I also feel like I'd remember if I'd met the most beautiful woman in the world before."

I laugh. "I believe we're strangers."

"Well…" He accepts two glasses full of amber liquid on rocks from the bartender, handing me one. "Let's change that. I'm Adam, and that is some of the unreasonably expensive scotch I bought a bottle of to share tonight. We're celebrating."

"Laurie," I answer, taking the glass. "And what are we celebrating?"

"My father is finally preparing to retire, and he's splitting ownership of the company between my brother and me."

I raise an eyebrow. "Well, congratulations, then."

Adam raises his glass to mine, smiling. "To new beginnings."

The glasses clink, and the rich taste of scotch slides across my tongue. The liquor burns, but I swallow it down, feeling the warmth in my belly almost instantly.

"So" —he leans against the bar next to me, looking out at the crowd— "you're from around here?"

I consider lying—most people around here recognize me as the Cartwright heiress—but he hasn't noticed yet. I decide to play it by ear. "Born and raised. What about you?"

He shakes his head. "Moved here a few years back when my dad opened a new branch of the company."

"And what do you do?"

"Investments." He shrugs. "The kind of stuff that makes people happy they have money."

I snort. "I bet."

Adam turns back to face me, his eyes raking over me in a way that makes my cheeks heat. "You know, I was having a pretty good night before, but now you've made it better. Before I continue, though, are you here with a boyfriend, or…?"

I look over my shoulder to see Elise arm-in-arm with one of her friends, and while it would make a hell of a lot more sense to just tell the truth and introduce Adam to my group, a big part of me wants to keep him to myself. I want to slip this special moment into my pocket where no one else can see. "No, actually. I work at the bar down the road, but stopped in here to get a drink before heading home. No one wants to drink where they work, you know?"

His smile broadens, his green eyes lighting up. "Great. Then maybe you'll join me for a drink in a more private setting?"

It's like I'm floating outside of myself watching this happen. Like I've slipped into someone else's body. I don't normally flirt like this, don't usually let things get this far. But there's something about Adam that makes me feel brave, reckless. He makes me want to throw caution to the wind and live, if only for tonight.

So, I accept.

The next thing I know, we're in his hotel room, kissing like our lives depend on it. And Adam kisses me like he means it, like he wants to be with me more than anything. His hands are in my hair, holding me steady as he devours me with his mouth, and my heart pounds.

This is what I've been missing all these years. The passion, the spark that comes from being with someone who knows their way around a woman's body.

Adam is thorough and unrelenting. We kiss until my lips are bruised and tingling, until I'm aching and breathless. It's not until my shirt is halfway off that I freeze, suddenly self-conscious.

He notices right away, letting me go so I can pull it back into place. "Are you okay?"

"I'm fine," I say, shaking my head. "It's nothing."

But Adam isn't letting me off the hook that easily. He reaches out and strokes his fingers down my cheek. "Laurie, it's not nothing. If you don't want to do this, just tell me and we'll stop."

My face burns with embarrassment, but I force the words out. "No, it's not that. It's just...I'm a virgin."

His eyebrows shoot up in surprise, but his expression softens a second later. "You didn't mention that before."

I bite my lip. "I didn't want to scare you off."

"Scare me off?" He chuckles. "Laurie, you could never scare me off. But I don't want to do anything you're not ready for."

I'm torn. I want this, want Adam, but the reality of my situation has brought everything into focus. This will be my first time. It should be with someone I know better than just one night, but that ship has sailed. And somehow it feels like I've known this man for years, not hours. There's something between us, something special.

So, I decide to trust it.

"I'm ready," I whisper. "I want this."

Adam smiles, and I know I made the right choice. "Then come here."

He pulls me back into his arms, kissing me again, and this time I relax into it. Everything about him is perfect—his lips, his hands, his scent. He smells like rich cologne and some undefinable essence that's all his own. It's intoxicating, and I find myself pressing closer, desperate for more. I want to sink into him, feel him all around me.

When his hands slip beneath my shirt, I don't flinch away. Instead, I lift my arms and let him take it off. He kisses a trail from my mouth down to my chest, unclasping my bra and tossing it aside. I'm bare before him, and his eyes are wide with hunger as he takes me in.

"Laurie," he breathes, "you're beautiful."

And then his mouth is on me, and it's everything I imagined and more. His tongue circles my nipple, sending sparks of pleasure through me, and I arch into his touch. His hands cup my breasts, squeezing and kneading, and it feels so good that I never want him to stop.

But then his mouth moves lower, his tongue tracing patterns over my skin as he makes his way down my body. I gasp when he reaches the waistband of my jeans, his fingers working deftly to pop the button and slide the zipper down. He pulls them down my hips slowly, his eyes fixed on mine.

"Is this okay?" he asks, his voice low and husky.

I nod, unable to form words.

He presses a kiss to my hip, then slides my jeans all the way off, leaving me in just my panties. He kisses his way back up my thigh, his touch feather-light and teasing. When he reaches the apex of my thighs, he pauses, looking up at me with a wicked smile on his face.

"I can't wait to taste you."

His words have wetness flooding my pussy instantly. Oh my God, no one has ever spoken to me like that!

He presses his mouth against the damp fabric of my panties, and I moan. The sensation is unlike anything I've ever felt before, and I can't help but rock my hips against him. He chuckles, the sound vibrating through me, and then he tugs my panties aside and licks me in one long stroke.

I cry out, my hands flying to his hair. With nothing between my flesh and his tongue, the sensation is almost too much. He keeps going, his tongue circling my clit over and over again. The pressure inside me builds, and I'm quickly approaching the edge. I’m primed and ready to blow, almost vibrating with how turned on I am. He wraps his lips around my clit and sucks, sending me hurtling over the edge.

My orgasm crashes through me, and I cry out his name. “Adam, Adam, Adam!”

My knees buckle, but he holds me up, licking me through it. When I finally come back down, he kisses his way back up my body, wrapping his arms around me and lowering me to the bed with a gentleness that makes my heart ache.

I'm still quivering as he undresses in front of me, taking off the suit slowly and methodically, revealing his incredible body.

I watch with rapt attention as he strips off his shirt, revealing broad shoulders and chiseled abs. His chest is covered in a light dusting of dark hair, and I can't resist leaning forward and running my fingers through it. He shivers at my touch, a smile tugging at the corner of his mouth.

"Like what you see?"

I nod, feeling emboldened. "You're gorgeous."

The pants go next, leaving him in just a pair of black boxer briefs that leave little to the imagination. I can see the outline of his hard length straining against the fabric, and it makes my mouth go dry. All of that is supposed to fit inside me? I should be nervous, but seeing his cock outline has my pussy aching with emptiness. I want him to fill me so badly.

He palms himself through the fabric, and then he's pulling them down, cock jumping out, hard as a steel bar. While he steps out of the briefs, Adam takes his length in his hand and strokes himself, looking me over like I'm some sort of feast.

And then he's crawling on top of me, his weight pressing me into the mattress. It should be terrifying, but I've never felt safer. His mouth finds mine again, and he kisses me slowly, reverently. I wrap my legs around him, pulling him closer, desperate for more contact. He reaches down and lines himself up with my entrance, pausing for a moment to look into my eyes.

"Are you sure?"

I nod, running my hands up his muscular arms. "I'm so sure. I think I'll die on the spot if you turn me down now."

Adam’s expression is equal parts joy and possession. He’s thrilled to be allowed to fuck me, to be my first, I can see it in his eyes.

With that, he pushes inside me, slowly but surely, and I gasp with each inch. There’s a sharp pinch that lasts less than a second, and then it’s gone. The stretch is almost too much, but the pain quickly gives way to pleasure.

He moves slowly, giving me time to adjust, and then he's fully seated inside me, our hips bumping together. He stays there for a moment, pressing his forehead to my shoulder as he fights for control. He's letting me get used to the feeling, and once I start to grind against him, savoring the fullness, he starts to move.

The world narrows down to the points where our bodies are joined—the feeling of him inside me, the heat of his skin against mine, the taste of his lips. I cling to him, lost in the sensation of being filled by him, the feeling of being connected in the most intimate way.

We move together, our bodies in perfect sync, and I can feel another orgasm building inside me. He kisses me hungrily, his hips rocking into me with increasing urgency. I meet him thrust for thrust, my nails digging into his back. I tighten my legs around him, and Adam pushes forward, changing the angle and hitting my G-spot with perfect accuracy, making my eyes roll back in my head. It’s the most incredible thing I’ve ever felt.

Adam doesn’t let up, and it’s his perfect rhythm that brings me to the edge a second time. I come with a cry, clenching tightly around him, and he follows me into bliss, emptying himself inside me with a groan. We collapse, still wrapped up in each other, and I cling to him, never wanting this moment to end.

But eventually, we have to separate, and the reality of the situation comes crashing back. What we just shared was beautiful, but it was also fleeting. I knew before we ever started that there was no future for us, and I'd made peace with it. But now, lying here in his arms, it's harder than ever to accept.

I know it's silly, but I can't help but feel like we were meant to find each other. Like there's something between us that was always supposed to happen. It's a foolish thought, but I can't shake it.

Even in the afterglow, he's perfect, ordering us room service and feeding me French fries with his fingers once it arrives. I have to consciously remember my fake identity as a bartender, but it's hard when he's so easy to talk to, so eager to learn about me. I find myself trailing off onto subjects like fashion magazines before correcting the course and being more vague. I can't tell him anything real, and I hate that.

But eventually, the late night catches up with us, and I find myself drifting off in his arms. He holds me close, his warmth seeping into my bones, and I sleep better than I have in years.

Then I wake up the next morning, and I panic.

It hits me all at once that I slept with a stranger and told him something personal about my life. I've never done anything like this before, and the thought of how stupid I'd been has me scrambling for my clothes.

"Laurie?" Adam sits up, his voice still thick with sleep. "What are you doing?"

I yank on my jeans, not meeting his eye. "I have to go. I'm sorry."

He frowns, reaching out to take my hand. "Hey, slow down. It's okay."

I shake my head, my heart racing. "No, it's not. I shouldn't have done this. I'm sorry."

He gets up, pulling on his boxer briefs before standing in front of me, his hands on my shoulders. "Laurie, it's okay. Whatever you're worried about, it's okay. I had an amazing time with you last night."

But I'm already shaking my head. "No, I'm sorry. I have to go."

And I do. I rush out the door, leaving him standing there, looking confused and hurt. It kills me, but I don't know what else to do. The tears hit as soon as I burst out of the hotel, and the feeling of them hot and wet on my cheeks, combined with the misery of leaving him behind, is what finally wakes me up.

I gasp, shooting up in bed, holding my comforter to my chest as I take in my darkened bedroom. With shaking fingers, I reach up and feel the wetness of real tears on my cheeks. It's so much worse knowing that he's right down the hall. I could go to him and ease this pain in seconds, but now it's wrong. Taboo. Forbidden. He's the last man I should want.

Yet, as I try to fall back asleep, praying I don't dream of him again, a plan starts to form in my mind. What if I ignore the red flags and pursue him anyway? Just to get it out of my system. I hold onto that spot of brightness, that possibility, as I finally manage to doze off.

* * *

It’s 8 a.m. and reality is here, loud and unwelcome. I’ve got 364 more mornings ahead with Adam Lawson just a few doors away, and the dream about our night together is so tangible I can almost feel the echo of his fingers on my skin.

I consider languishing in bed for the rest of the day, but the smell of coffee and the fact that my mother is leaving for an entire year in less than an hour are enough to get me moving. I consider changing, making myself more presentable, but if Adam is going to be here for an entire year, then he better get used to both glamour Laurie and loungewear Laurie.

I shuffle down the stairs, hair thrown in a messy bun, and my mood already done for. It lifts a smidgen when I see that it's just Mom and Craig, dressed in their jet-setting best, in the kitchen. I tell Mom goodbye, doing my best to act totally fine and not like I'm teetering on the edge of a mental breakdown.

I'm halfway through the goodbyes when a tall figure walks around the corner to join us, and I'm right back to being pissed off all over again. Wearing a simple white T-shirt and dark jeans that shouldn’t look so good on him, his duffle bag slung over one shoulder, Adam looks a thousand times more prepared for the day than I do. His hair is tousled, like he just ran a hand through it, and his face is set in that unreadable expression of his—cool, collected, and maddeningly handsome.

The temperature in the room drops into the negatives, or at least it feels that way to me, but Mom still bustles over and wraps me in her arms, oblivious to the tension. "Laurie, honey, be careful, okay? And don't worry, Adam will look after the house and you."

I should be more taken aback, but at this point, I've come to terms with Adam staying, as much as I hate it. "Mom, again, I'm a grown woman."

Mom sighs. "I know, honey. But you're still my little girl, and I'm still allowed to worry."

Adam makes a small noise of disbelief behind me, and I spin around, narrowing my eyes at him. "Something you wanna say?"

He opens his mouth to answer, but Craig steps between us, clearing his throat loudly. "Well, we'd better be going. The pilot's waiting."

"Goodbye, honey. We love you," Mom calls, pulling me in for one last hug.

"Love you too," I murmur, hugging her back, then turning to Craig and giving him a somewhat awkward hug as well.

Satisfied, Craig nods, and they head out the door, leaving me alone with Adam. For a minute, we just stand there, not saying anything, not moving. For one second—one tiny, traitorous second—I imagine closing the distance between us and kissing him again. Just because I could. Our parents would be gone. No one would ever know. The thought feels like a bolt of lightning through my system, shocking and almost stupid in how real it is.

I have to close my eyes to dispel the idea. The enormous old house suddenly feels a whole lot smaller now that it's just the two of us.

“Well,” Adam says after a beat, dropping his bag near the stairs, “this is?—”

“Don’t,” I cut him off, spinning to face him. “Don’t say ‘this is weird’ or ‘this is awkward’ or whatever polite thing you were about to say. I don’t want to hear it.”

His lips twitch, like he’s fighting a smile. “Noted.”

Neither of us says anything more for a long moment, but I can feel his eyes on me as I fill my mug and grab an apple from the fruit bowl on the counter. I hate how aware I am of him, how nice his muscled arms looked crossed over his chest, the dark stubble on his jaw, his impossibly green eyes.

The mug shakes in my hand. I need to get away from him. Now.

"This has been great," I snap, turning on my heel and heading for the stairs. "I'll be in my room. Don't burn my house down."

"Didn't plan on it!" he calls after me, amused.

I'm almost running with how fast I want to put distance between us, but it's like his warm, spicy scent follows me. The second I'm in my bedroom, I slam the door harder than I mean to, and the sounds echo through the house.

But at least I'm alone, away from Adam.

I lean back against the door and let out a shaky breath, pressing a hand to my chest. My heart is pounding, way faster than it should be. There’s some thought forming in my mind, some idea I know is nothing but trouble. Still, I can’t shake it completely.

I keep thinking about how I could do the opposite of what Adam expects. I could flirt, come onto him, press every button he has. It’s so wrong, but I feel cheated. I never got the chance to explore the thing between us, and even if it’s my fault, I still can’t stop wanting to turn back time. Or, since that’s impossible, use this time we have alone to see just how our connection really goes.

Your connection as lovers? Too bad he’s your stepbrother.

But there is zero blood between us, and we’re just two single people with real chemistry and a perfect opportunity to act on it. Feeling better and determined to see if he feels the same, I’m already counting the hours until I see him again.