“Fifty bucks says I can fuck her by the end of summer.”
The words hit me like a slap, raw and ugly, right outside Jake’s bedroom door. My fingers froze on the knob. My brand-new stepbrother, six-foot-three of cocky, sun-bleached arrogance, was betting on me. On Lily. The quiet girl who’d been dragged into this beach house two weeks ago after our parents decided a Vegas wedding was a great fucking idea.
His friend laughed, low and dirty. “Dude, that’s your stepsister now.”
“Not by blood,” Jake drawled, voice dripping with lazy confidence. “And Jesus Christ, have you seen that ass in those little denim shorts? The way it jiggles when she walks? Those fat tits straining against every tank top like they’re begging to be let out? She’s been eye-fucking me since day one. Bet she’s soaked every time I look at her.”
Heat flooded my face, my chest, my cunt. I’d noticed the stares, sure. Those piercing arctic-blue eyes tracked me across the kitchen, lingered on my hard nipples when I bent over the fridge. I told myself it was nothing. I told myself I hated the way my stomach flipped every time he walked into a room. I told myself I didn’t press my thighs together when he brushed past me too close.
Why did mum have to marry his father?
But hearing it laid bare like this, crude and transactional, lit something feral inside me.
Because who the fuck did Jake think he really was?
I kicked the door so hard it bounced off the wall. Beer cans clattered. His friends scattered like startled seagulls, mumbling excuses, slamming out the side door. Jake didn’t flinch. He just lounged back on his bed, shirtless, carved surfer muscle glistening with a sheen of sweat, basketball shorts riding so low the thick base of his cock was practically on display.
That cocky half-smirk never left his face.
“Enjoy the show, sis?”
My hands shook with rage. “You think I’m some easy bet? Some slut you can brag about nailing for fifty fucking dollars?”
He sat up slowly, elbows on his knees. “Never said you were easy, Lily. Just said I’d win.”
“Win?” I stepped closer, voice shaking. “You think I’m a goddamn trophy? That I’d just spread my legs because you decided you want me? You’re disgusting.”
His eyes narrowed, the smirk fading just a fraction. “I heard the way you say my name at dinner. Saw you staring when I came in from surfing. Don’t act like you haven’t thought about it.”
“That doesn’t mean I’d let you treat me like a fucking side bet with your frat-boy friends!” I shouted. “I’m not some conquest, Jake. I’m your stepsister now. This is our family.”
He stood up slowly, towering over me, jaw tight as his eyes darkened due to my thin tank top and pebbling nipples. “You think I give a shit about what our parents signed on some paper? You’ve been in this house two weeks and I can’t look at you without getting hard. That’s not family, Lily. That’s chemistry.”
“Chemistry?” I laughed, bitter and sharp. “You think objectifying me, betting on me like I’m a sure thing, is chemistry? You don’t even know me.”
“I know you bite your lip when you’re nervous,” he fired back, stepping closer. “I know you wear those tiny shorts when you know I’m home. I know your nipples get hard every time I walk into a room. I know you linger in the hallway outside my door at night. Don’t stand there and pretend you’re innocent in this.”
My face burned hotter as his words sent a new wave of desire through me. “That doesn’t give you the right.”
“I’m not asking for rights,” he cut in, voice low and rough. “I’m telling you I want you. Bad. And yeah, maybe I was a dick about it with the guys. But I’m not lying. I’ve been going insane trying not to touch you.”
I shoved at his chest. Hard muscle, zero give. “You don’t get to decide that for me. You don’t get to reduce me to some slut you brag about banging for pocket change.”
He caught my wrists, held them between us. “Then tell me to stop. Look me in the eye and tell me you don’t want this, and I’ll back off. Right now.”
The room went dead silent except for our breathing.
I opened my mouth.
Nothing came out.
Because the truth, the ugly, shameful truth, was that I did want it. I’d wanted it since the first time I saw him smirk at me across the kitchen island. I hated him for making me want it. I hated myself more.
“Fuck you,” I whispered, voice cracking.
His grip tightened. “Say it again.”
“Fuck. You.”
“You want to fuck me for fifty bucks?” My voice came out low, dangerous. “Then get on your knees and beg, big brother.”
He was off the bed in a heartbeat, eating up the space between us until my back hit the door. Six-three of pure muscle caged me in, heat rolling off him in waves.
“I don’t beg,” he growled, voice rough as broken shells. “But I’ll make you scream my name in a prayer."
His mouth crashed down on mine. No warning, no softness. Just pure, filthy possession. Tongue shoved past my lips, licked into me like he already owned every inch. I moaned before I could stop myself, tasting beer and salt and raw want. My hands fisted in his hair, yanked hard. He snarled into the kiss and bit my bottom lip until I whimpered.
Big hands grabbed the hem of my tank and ripped it upward, broke the kiss only long enough to tear it over my head. My bra was next. Snapped open with one brutal tug, tits spilled free, bounced heavy. Cool air hit my nipples. They tightened instantly.
“Fucking perfect,” he rasped, palmed both roughly, squeezed until I gasped. His thumbs flicked the stiff peaks, then pinched hard, twisted until pain blurred into blinding pleasure. “Been jerking my cock raw thinking about these every night, Lily. Imagining them wrapped around me, covered in my cum.”