“Fuck you,” she rasped, but the poison she usually used with me was nowhere to be found. “You’re the one who ruined me. I wouldn’t have done any of this if you hadn’t been there that night.”
“I know,” I growled. “And I will keep ruining you until you’re ready to admit you’ve always belonged to me.” I kissed her. “Because I’ve always belonged to you.”
My legs were still trembling from what we’d done all morning. My thighs were covered in marks from his hands, my lips swollen from his kisses, and my insides ached thanks to the rearranging he did. Thankfully, my skin was no longer sticky with the mess he’d made of me—on me—since I’d showered.
I should have been disgusted with myself.
Instead, I watched him.
Rowen was in front of the stove, wearing only a pair of gray sweatpants hanging low on his hips, acting like it was a typical afternoon—like he hadn’t just spent an entire morning buried in his stepsister.
He seemed so relaxed, still high on me. I watched his back muscles flex when he reached or stirred something in the pan.
It smelled fucking amazing, and not just because I was draped in his t-shirt. Rowen could fuckingcook. The scent of garlic and butter filled the air.
I was sitting on the counter, legs swinging, thinking about everything. Like how I should’ve run harder last night. Should’ve gotten out of his bed this morning rather than letting him drag me back under. Should’ve been somewhere else right now, trying to forget what he felt like inside me.
But here I was.
“I didn’t realize you could cook,” I said, trying to fill the silence.
It had been so quiet between us since the moans and skin slapping skin had stopped. It felt like Rowen was holding back, afraid to push me too far.
He looked over at me with a cocky grin. “How else will I replenish that energy so we can go again?”
I rolled my eyes. “God, you’re obsessed.”
He turned back to the stove, but I didn’t miss the way his smile widened.
“Hasn’t turned you away yet,” he said softly. “You’re still here.”
“You shouldn’t read into it,” I snapped, but my voice was soft, more playful than it had been.
He reached for a plate, filled it with food, and handed it to me, ignoring the feeling we were teetering on the edge of destruction.Like he wasn’t branded with my name. Like I wasn’t burning from the inside out for him.
“So, are we just playing house until they come back? Pretend like a normal happy couple?” I put the plate down and crossed my arms. “Thisisn’tnormal. You’re my stepbrother.”
He walked over, putting himself between my legs. “You’re my obsession. What do you want me to say? That this has to end? That I don’t want to fuck you again? That I’m okay going back to the way things were?” He looked down. “I don’t exist without you, Av,” he whispered.
I hated how my breath hitched. “You’re insane.”
His hands covered my knees, thumb rubbing across my skin, warmth spreading throughout my body.
“Maybe,” he murmured, our eyes locking. “But I didn’t hear you complaining this morning.”
His hands stayed on my thighs, and I hated how much comfort I found in his touch.
“So how long?”
His eyebrow lifted. “How long what?”
“You said your obsession started a long time ago.” I looked him dead in the eye. “How long have you been obsessed with me?”
He looked down and pointed to a date on his chest.
“That’s…”
“Your birthday. The day we met.” His jaw flexed as he watched it hit me.
