Page 1

Quinn

The lake house loomed in front of me like something out of a magazine. You couldn’t even call it a lake house; it was more like a mansion. A glass-and-wood mansion that didn’t know if it wanted to be rustic or modern. It looked like the kind of place that architects built for magazines, not for actual people. Cold. Pretentious. And filled with the same suffocating sense of entitlement as the prick who locked me out.

North fucking Stirling.

Step-brother, and the bane of my existence.

“Fucking asshole,” I muttered, pounding on the door hard enough that my knuckles ached. “North, open the goddamn door!”

Nothing.

Of course, he wasn’t going to let me in. This was just another power play in a long line of them. Another way to remind me that this summer wasn’t going to be anything but hell.

I turned, my eyes narrowing as I glared at his Mustang. It was parked in the middle of the fucking driveway, glossy black and gleaming in the sun. Every curve, every detail looked like it had been polished that morning. Knowing North, it probably had been.

The way it took up half the driveway didn’t help. It took me twenty-fucking-minutes to park Dad’s—my—beaten-up Honda next to it, and I was pretty sure there was a scratch from the bushes. He made sure there was no room for anyone else—because why should there be? This was his house, his space, and I was just the inconvenient little problem dumped here for the summer. Bastard.

I hit the door again. “North! Open the damn door, or I’m phoning Mark!”

Yeah, ‘cause I had to resort to involving my stepfather like we were still in middle school or something. God, I hated him.

Still nothing.

My teeth ground together as I stepped back, dragging my hands through my auburn hair, likely making it even more out of place than it already was. The asshole was probably sprawled across their ridiculously expensive couch, grinning to himself while he watched me on the cameras. He probably thought this was funny—I stuck out here like an idiot.

I flicked my middle finger up, directed toward them, just in case.

If he wanted to act like a child, so be it. I’d deal with it.

I stormed around the side of the house, my eyes scanning for a way in. Mom always hid spare keys in dumb places, and after a few minutes of searching, my fingers brushed against cold metal tucked inside a stupid little birdhouse by the porch.

“Gotcha,” I muttered, yanking it free.

The lock clicked, and I shoved the door open so hard it slammed into the wall. If North wanted drama, I’d deliver.

Dad always said I could’ve gone into theater if I wanted to.

Inside, the house was just as obnoxious as I remembered—too big, too shiny, and too perfect. Shiny appliances that probably hadn’t ever been used, knowing Mom at least, and expensive orchids in glass vases. It looked expensive, smelled like it too—leather, polish, and candles that probably cost more than Dad’s—my, Goddammit, my—old car. I dropped my bag at the base of the stairs and looked around, waiting for him to show his smug face.

Nothing.

But I could hear something. Low, rhythmic sounds. Thuds. Grunts.

Anger surged, drowning out the uncomfortable heat crawling up my spine. “North!” I yelled, storming toward the noise. “Why the hell did you lock—”

My first thought was that he was working out, but then the sound shifted, turning wet, raw, and unmistakable. A high-pitched moan broke through, sharp and desperate, and for some reason I didn’t even think to question it as I rounded the corner.

“North, I swear to Go-” I stopped dead, my mouth suddenly dry.

Not because he wasn’t there, because he was. North was there, in all his American bad-boy glory, dark hair falling over those piercing baby-blue eyes that could turn gray in a blink. North was there, naked and sweating. North was there, his lean muscles clenching and releasing as he pounded the bleach-blonde sprawled all over the leather couch beneath him.

“God,” I finished saying, my voice a whisper.

The girl was a mess, her tits bouncing with every savage thrust. Her sweaty blonde tresses clung to her damp skin, and her skirt was shoved up around her waist, her legs splayed wide enough that I could see the gleaming slickness between them. One of her feet dangled off the couch, limp, while the other hooked around North’s waist, pulling him closer like she couldn’t stand to let go.

I probably should’ve left the second I realized what was going on, but I couldn’t move. He’d done all of this on purpose, I figured as much while I was standing there. They were on the couch closest to the doorway, and God only knew how he knew I would be home before Mark and Mom, but something told me he did.

High-pitched moans filled the room, sharp and broken as the girl fucked North back just as hard as he was fucking her. “Oh god, North—fuck! Fuck, don’t stop, please, don’t—” Her voice cracked as her back arched off the couch.

“I’m so close,” she sobbed. I wish I could say she was faking it, but it was clear enough by her red face and glazed over expression that she wasn’t—and if that wasn’t enough to convince me, the obscene wet sounds of their bodies slapping together probably would’ve explained as much.

“More, give me more, North,” she pleaded, moving her fingers down to his cock. My eyes dropped before I could stop them, and my lungs forgot how to work. “You’re so fucking thick. Give me all of it.”

Jesus, he was thick. Her body was barely able to take it. I could see how it was stretching to try to accommodate him, and in all honesty, I probably would’ve been screaming a hell of a lot louder in her position. North’s cock was slick with her arousal, and even from where I was standing, I could tell he wasn’t giving her all of it. Every punishing thrust was wet and obscene, but there was a solid inch he kept out of her. A very, very solid inch.

His hands gripped her thighs so tightly I could see the white of his knuckles, holding her in place as he fucked her like he owned her.

“Fuck—oh fuck, I’m coming—I’m—” The blonde’s body seized as a strangled scream tore from her throat, her legs shaking as her pussy clenched around him.

North didn’t stop.

I should have turned around. I should have left. But I couldn’t. My feet felt glued to the floor, my chest heaving, my body warm. Shame and shock twisted together in my gut.

And then his eyes found mine, and everything stopped.

Blue-gray and piercing, his intense stare locked onto mine like a predator sizing up its prey. His lips curled into a slow, arrogant smirk, and he didn’t pull out. If anything, his movements slowed, became more deliberate, as if to make sure I caught every second of it.

Squeals came from the blonde as she looked down between her legs, then threw her head back against the couch cushion with a whine.

“Enjoying yourself?” he drawled, his voice low and mocking, dripping with smugness.

The blonde whimpered, her body still trembling as North pulled out of her, his cock glistening with her orgasm. Before I could even blink, he gripped her by her curls, hauling her up until her lips were inches from his cock.

“Suck,” he ordered, his voice deep and rumbling. His eyes didn’t leave mine, and I didn’t dare look down to confirm exactly how big he was.

She obeyed without hesitation, taking him into her mouth as a low groan rumbled from his chest. His head tilted back slightly, but his eyes stayed on me, watching every inch of my reaction as her lips slid over him.

I couldn’t breathe. My body betrayed me, heat pooling low in my stomach, and North noticed. His smirk deepened, dark and knowing, as he tangled his fingers in her hair, pushing her mouth further down his length.

“That’s it, swallow me deep,” he murmured to her while the room filled with her choking gags. “You’re going to swallow it all, aren’t you?” he purred, his eyes filled with promise. “Like it’s the best cock you’ve ever had, right, Quinn?”

The sound of my name was sharp, cutting through the haze in my head.

I stumbled back, my shoulder hitting the door frame with a thud. My legs moved on autopilot, carrying me up the stairs and into my room before my brain could catch up. I slammed the door shut, pressing my back against it as I slid to the floor.

My chest heaved, my hands shaking as I pressed them over my face, trying to block out the images burned into my mind.

North. My fucking step-brother. His smirk, the way his abs clenched on every thrust. The smell. God, I knew sex had a smell, but it wasn’t supposed to make me hot. I wasn’t supposed to be turned on by… by my step-brother. And he… he wasn’t supposed to look at me like he knew exactly what I was feeling—I wasn’t supposed to feel anything.

“What the fuck just happened?” I whispered, my voice cracking.

But there was no escaping it. No running from the shame burning in my chest or the heat clinging to my skin like a second layer. North had seen everything.

And worse, so had I.

***

I don’t know how long I sat there on the floor, staring at nothing. My mind replayed everything on a loop—the sound of her moans, the wet slaps of their bodies, and the way North’s eyes burned through me like he’d planned for me to see.

My cheeks flushed hot again, and I pressed my hands harder over my face, like I could block it all out. I didn’t know what to feel—anger, shame, confusion. All of it tangled in my chest, leaving me shaking.

A knock on the door shattered the silence, and I jumped. My heart slammed against my ribs, panic flaring as my head snapped toward the sound. For a terrifying second, I thought it was him—standing there, smirking, ready to mock me more.

But then Mom’s voice drifted through. “Quinn? Honey, can we come in?”

I exhaled sharply, my pulse still racing. “Yeah,” I called, trying to steady my voice.

The door creaked open, and Mom and Mark stepped inside, both of them smiling like this was some kind of Hallmark movie moment. Mom looked effortlessly put together in her crisp summer dress, and slicked back auburn ponytail, while Mark’s neatly pressed polo and khakis practically screamed suburban dad of the year.

“We just wanted to check in and see how you’re settling,” Mom said warmly, her gaze sweeping over the room. “It’s a great space, isn’t it? Lots of light. You’ve got your own bathroom, too—so nice for privacy.”

Yeah, a bathroom that sat between North’s room and mine, with a door leading into each. Sounded like such a good idea. Not.

I nodded, forcing a tight smile. “Yeah, it’s nice.”

“And the view of the lake?” Mark chimed in as he walked toward the floor-to-ceiling windows. I couldn’t help but feel a flicker of guilt when he grinned at me. North took after his dad in almost every way physically, but they couldn’t be more different. “Unbeatable. You’ll love it here, Quinn. It’s perfect to get a chance to relax before college.”

The words felt hollow, their warmth too polished, too practiced. It was the same tone they used when they talked about how exciting it would be to have me move in, even though it was clear none of us actually wanted it.

“It’s fine,” I mumbled, keeping my eyes on the floor. “The room’s fine. Thanks.”

Mom frowned slightly, but Mark clapped a hand on my shoulder, cutting her off as he pulled me in for a hug. “It’s great to see you’re doing good, kiddo,” he said, and for a second it felt like Dad was there and not him. My throat tightened. “We’re grilling tonight—steaks, burgers, the works. Dinner’s at seven, out on the patio. You’ll join us, right?”

I hesitated for a moment, but then Mom’s hopeful expression made me cave. “Yeah,” I said quietly. “Sure.”

“Great!” Mark beamed. “We’ll see you down there. Take your time unpacking.”

Mom stalled as he said that, her lip twisting. “Do you need any help with anything?”

And then I’d have to listen to her fawn about my perfect step-siblings—I don’t think so.

“I’ll be fine,” I replied, my voice cutting.

Her expression fell. “Okay, well, I’m here if you need me.”

I probably should’ve felt bad about being a bitch, but my nerves were still on edge since I saw North with that blonde. The last thing I wanted was to hear about Evie for the next few hours. Perfect Evie, the youngest of Mark’s three children, and his only daughter.

Mom adored her.

They left, closing the door behind them, and the room felt suffocatingly quiet again. I stared at my duffel bag by the bed, but I couldn’t bring myself to unpack. Instead, I lay on the bed, staring at the ceiling, trying to untangle the mess of emotions twisting in my chest.

Mark was a hugger, you couldn’t avoid it when he was around. He always wanted to show how much he loved his kids—and step-kids.

I couldn’t remember the last time my mother hugged me.

By the time dinner rolled around, I still felt off—unsettled, tense, like I was walking into a trap I couldn’t see. The patio was bathed in golden evening light, the table set with plates of food that looked like they belonged in a cooking show. Mom and Mark were already seated, laughing softly over their glasses of wine.

And then there was North.

He lounged in his chair like he owned the world, his sharp features lit by the fading sunlight. His hair was still damp from a shower, falling messily over his forehead, and he was dressed casually in a dark t-shirt and jeans that fit a little too perfectly. He didn’t look at me when I sat down, but the smirk playing on his lips said enough.

I forced myself to focus on my plate, trying to block him out, but it was impossible. He was there—his presence heavy, his energy suffocating, like he was daring me to look at him.

Under the table, something brushed against my foot.

I froze.

The contact was light at first, almost accidental. But then it came again—deliberate, slow, his foot sliding against mine like a silent taunt. My heart slammed against my ribs as I snatched my foot back, my cheeks flushing hot.

I didn’t dare look at him, but I could feel his eyes on me, could feel the smirk that had probably deepened into something cruel.

And then he spoke, his voice low, just loud enough for me to hear. “Did you get a good view earlier?”

My fork clattered against my plate. Heat flooded my face, spreading down my neck as his words sank in. My hands clenched in my lap, nails digging into my palms as shame and fury twisted together in my chest.

“Get fucked,” I hissed, but that must’ve been more obvious than I thought because Mark looked over at us.

“Everything alright, kids?”

“Yep. Fine,” I said quickly, grabbing my fork and forcing myself to take a bite of food I couldn’t even taste. “I’m fine.”

Across the table, North let out a quiet chuckle, his smirk still burning into me. His eyes gleamed with something dark and knowing, a silent promise that this wasn’t over.

I kept my attention locked on my plate, trying to block him out, but it was no use. He was in my head again, and no matter how much I hated it, I couldn’t stop replaying his voice, his smirk, and the way he’d made it impossible to forget.