Sienna

The room still smelled of him when I slipped out of his bed. My legs trembled as I pulled on my clothes, skin still humming from where his hands had been. The sheets clung to my thighs like they wanted to hold me there, but I forced myself to move.

I paused at the door, my chest rising and falling too fast. What had we just done? My lips still tingled, swollen from his kisses, and every step I took down the hall carried the weight of a secret I had no idea how to bury.

The house was quiet. The kind of silence that makes every creak in the floorboards sound like thunder. I pressed a hand to my chest, trying to calm the wild beat of my heart. No one could know. Not now. Not ever.

I slipped into my own room before dawn had even softened the sky. My fingers brushed my lips again, and I shut my eyes, replaying everything. The way he pulled me close. The way I couldn’t say no. The way I didn’t want to.

When morning came, I forced myself to act normal. To wash my face, fix my hair, and sit at the long dining table like nothing had happened in the dark hours before.

I stirred the food on my plate without tasting it. The clatter of cutlery from the kitchen made me jump. I told myself to breathe, to smile, to pretend.

And then I saw him.

Jaxon.

Walking toward the dining room with that same quiet intensity, his gaze sweeping the room before locking onto mine. My stomach twisted, heat rushing up my neck.

I gripped the edge of the table, praying no one else could see what passed between us in that split second.

Jaxon

“I should feel satisfied,” I muttered into the dark, palms dragging down my face. “But I’m fucking starving.”

The bed was cold without her. Sheets smelled like her skin, my hands still smelled like her hair, but she’d slipped out like what we’d done was something dirty like I was something dirty.

She ran.

Not just from my bed. From me.

And that wide-eyed, guilty look she’d left behind burned hotter than her mouth ever had.

By morning, the house was too damn quiet. My old man hummed while flipping pancakes, Sienna sat at the table clutching her mug like it was a shield. And me? I wanted to drag her upstairs and remind her what she’d done. What we’d done.

Instead, I dropped into the chair across from her.

She didn’t look up. Not once. Not when my leg brushed hers under the table. Not when I let my phone drop just to make her glance. Nothing.

“Morning, you two,” Lena sang as she walked in. Sunshine, small talk, fake ease.

“Morning, Mom,” I said flat.

Sienna’s voice was smaller. “Morning, Lena.”

Lena frowned. “You two are quiet. Everything okay?”

Sienna forced a smile. “Just tired.”

I let the corner of my mouth twitch. “Yeah. Long night.”

Her eyes shot to mine with a flash of panic then darted away so fast it almost made me laugh. Almost.

“Jaxon, phone down,” Lena said gently.

I tossed it aside, leaned forward. Finally, her gaze collided with mine for a split second. Wide. Guilty. Terrified. Exactly like last night.

She bolted up. “I need some fresh air.”

And just like that, she ran again.

But she had no clue, I was already following.

Sienna

The air outside was sharper than coffee. Cleaner than guilt. I pulled my jacket tight and walked, anywhere, nowhere, just away from that kitchen, away from Jaxon’s eyes cutting into me like a blade.

“Why’d you leave?” his voice came, low, behind me.

I spun. He stood by the trees, hands in his pockets, dark eyes burning. Watching me like a predator watching prey.

“I’m not letting you run again,” he said.

“I’m not running,” I lied, breath unsteady.

“You ran last night. You ran at breakfast. You’re running now.” He started forward, slow. “You can’t handle this, Sienna. But you started it. Now you finish it.”

“I didn’t start anything,” I snapped. “You came into my life and wrecked it. Don’t twist this on me.”

“Don’t twist it?” His voice rose, hard. “Who touched me first? Who climbed into my bed? Who begged me not to stop?”

My throat went tight. “That’s not fair.”

“Life’s not fair,” he shot back.

He was close now. Too close. The pine scent of him filled my head, made my knees weak.

“I am scared, Jaxon. You don’t get it. What did you think would happen? That we’d just sneak around, pretend nothing’s wrong, and live happily ever after?”

“Yes.” His answer was steel. “Because that…us…last night…that was real. The most real thing I’ve ever had. And I’ll be damned if I let you throw it away.”

He was inches away, and my traitorous eyes dropped to his mouth.

“I can’t,” I whispered, hating the way my body betrayed me, heat pooling low, memories of his hands all over me flashing.

His fingers caught my chin, forcing my gaze up. His eyes locked mine, fierce, unrelenting.

“Yes, you can,” he growled. “Stop fighting me. Stop fighting us.”

I trembled as his lips brushed my ear, his breath hot.

“I know a place,” he whispered. “No one will find us. No pretending. Just you and me.”

“Where?” The word left me before I could stop it.

“The lake house,” he said, voice dark with promise. “An hour away. Empty. Ours.”

My stomach twisted. Every alarm screamed no. But my body screamed yes.

“I can’t,” I said, weak, trembling.

His grip tightened. “Then tell me no. Look me in the eye and tell me you don’t want me. That you don’t want to go. Say it and I’ll walk away for good.”

I opened my mouth. Nothing came out. Because it wasn’t true.

Silence hung heavy between us, his lips so close, my body shaking with need.

And then…

“Sienna? Jaxon?”

We both froze.

Kendra’s voice. Sweet, curious. Deadly.

She stood on the lawn, smile painted innocent, but her eyes lingered. Too sharp. Too knowing.

“What are you two doing out here?”

My stomach crashed to the ground. She’d heard. She’d seen. She knew.

And if she opened her mouth, everything was over.

Sienna

It didn’t start with love. Or even lust.

It started with hate.

I hated him.

The day Dad brought him home, the hallway felt too small. Like even the walls were holding their breath.

Dad was grinning like he’d just closed some big business deal. His arm was wrapped around Lena, his shiny new wife. She wore a soft cream sweater, pearl earrings, hair in a neat bun that looked like it had its own security system. Perfect. Fake.

And then there was him.

Jaxon Carter. Nineteen. Taller than I expected. Lean muscle under a black T-shirt. Not smiling. Not frowning. Just looking at me in this slow, measuring way. Like he was deciding if I was a threat… or prey.

“Sienna, this is Jaxon,” Dad said, all cheerful, like he was introducing me to some distant cousin I should be thrilled about.

I gave the smallest nod possible. “Hey.”

He nodded back. Not one word. His eyes flicked down at my ripped jeans, the band tee I’d slept in, then back up to my face. His gaze had weight.

Lena’s smile was too sweet. “We’re all going to get along just fine.”

Sure. And hell was about to freeze over.

The new “family rules” appeared that night, taped to the fridge. No slamming doors. Chores split evenly. Dinner together every night at seven.

I stared at the list. “Looks like prison.”

Dad’s smile faltered. “It’s about respect, Sienna.”

Jaxon leaned against the counter, arms crossed. “Don’t worry. I’ll stay out of your way.”

His tone said the opposite.

It started small. His towel left on the bathroom floor. My trash mysteriously “forgotten” on the curb. The remote hidden under his thigh with a smug look when I searched.

Every night felt like a standoff.

Then came Tuesday.

The shower steam was still clinging to my skin when I stepped into the hallway, wrapped in a towel, hair dripping down my back. I was halfway to my room when his door opened.

He stepped out. Shirtless.

I froze.

He didn’t. He walked toward me like the hallway wasn’t narrow, like my bare shoulders and wet hair weren’t something to avoid.

“Is there a problem?” His voice was low.

I shook my head. “No.”

His gaze moved over me, slow enough to trip my pulse. “You sure?”

“Yes.” My voice cracked.

He stopped close enough that I could smell his soap. Clean, sharp, but darker underneath.

His eyes locked on mine. “Good.”

For a second, I thought he might touch me. His hand twitched like he almost would. Then he stepped back, brushed past, and disappeared into the bathroom.

I didn’t move until the door clicked shut.

After that, everything felt different.

We weren’t just avoiding each other. We were circling. Testing.

The next few days were filled with little jabs; a brush of his fingers when he passed the salt, a smirk when he caught me staring.

I told myself it was still hate. That was safer.

Then one morning,

I was halfway down the hall when Jaxon stepped out of his room, towel slung over his shoulder, toothbrush in hand. His eyes locked on the bathroom door, the same one I was already reaching for.

“Move, Blake.” His voice was flat, casual, like it wasn’t even a question.

“I was here first.” I planted my hand on the knob.

He tilted his head, smirking like it was funny. “Doesn’t look like it from here.”

“Don’t be a jerk.”

“Don’t hog the bathroom.” He leaned closer, close enough that I could smell his soap from last night’s shower. “I take five minutes. You take… forever.”

“That’s because I actually wash my hair, caveman.”

His smile sharpened. “You’d be surprised what people like about me not washing my hair.”

I rolled my eyes, gripping the doorknob tighter. “Ugh, you’re disgusting.”

He leaned his shoulder against the frame, blocking me without even trying. “Ladies first?” he said, pretending to be polite.

For a second, I almost believed him until he added, “Oh wait. That doesn’t apply to you.”

My jaw dropped. “Excuse me?”

“Bathroom’s mine. Step aside.”

“Over my dead body.”

We shoved at the same time. I was trying to twist the knob, him blocking me with his stupid arm. Our shoulders collided, our voices overlapping.

“Back off, Jaxon!”

“You back off!”

“I’m not moving!”

“Neither am I!”

The sound of footsteps on the stairs cut through our bickering.

“What’s going on here?” Dad’s voice, sharp and tired.

Lena appeared behind him, holding her coffee like it was a shield. She glanced at us. I was gripping the knob like it was life or death, Jaxon smirking like he’d already won.

Dad pinched the bridge of his nose. “Seriously? Fighting over the bathroom? You’re not five.”

“Tell her to move,” Jaxon said smoothly.

“Tell him to quit being a controlling psycho,” I snapped.

Lena sighed, sipping her coffee. “Jaxon, let Sienna go first. She has school. You can wait.”

His jaw flexed, but he stepped back. Slowly. Deliberately. Like he wanted me to know this wasn’t over.

“Fine, princess. Enjoy your mirror time.”

I shoved past him, heart hammering louder than it should for a stupid bathroom fight.

Because underneath the bickering, under Dad’s frustrated sigh and Lena’s forced smile, I knew the truth.

It wasn’t just about the bathroom.

It was about winning.

And neither of us wanted to lose.

Then came Kendra’s party.

The music was too loud. The beer was warm. I regretted saying yes before the night even started.

“Truth or dare,” Kendra announced, eyes glassy.

“Dare,” I said, because I’d rather eat glass than spill truths in front of these people.

She grinned like a wolf. “I dare you to kiss your stepbrother.”

The room went quiet.

I didn’t turn my head. I already knew where he was. Leaning against the wall, beer in hand, eyes fixed on me like he’d been waiting.

“No,” I said.

Kendra pouted. “Chicken?”

My pride flared. “Fine.”

I stood. Every step across that room felt like a choice I couldn’t undo.

When I stopped in front of him, his mouth curved. “It’s just a game, Blake.”

I leaned in, planning a quick, meaningless kiss. But the moment my lips brushed his, his hand came up, fingers curling around the back of my neck.

It wasn’t quick. It wasn’t meaningless.

His mouth moved against mine with careful hunger, like he’d thought about this for a long time. My hands curled into his shirt before I realized it.

When he finally pulled back, his forehead rested against mine. His breath was warm. “You crossed the line,” he whispered.

I didn’t trust my voice to answer.

Headlights flashed through the window. Someone shouted, “Party’s over!”

Jaxon’s hand slid away, slow. He stepped back. “We’ll talk later.”

I didn’t get the chance to ask what he meant.

Later came faster than I thought.

That night, the house was too quiet. I was brushing my teeth when his door opened.

“Come here.”

I almost laughed. “No.”

He leaned on the doorframe, arms crossed. “Scared?”

“Of you? Please.”

“Then prove it.”

My heart was a drum. Still, I walked toward him.

He stepped back into his room. I followed.

The air inside felt warmer. He closed the door with a soft click.

“You’ve been looking at me,” he said.

“You’ve been imagining things.”

His smile was slow, dangerous. “Seems like you want more than that kiss.”

“Seems like you want more than that kiss.”

Heat rushed up my neck. “You’re delusional.”

“Am I?” He moved closer, every step shrinking the air between us. “Because the way you walked in here doesn’t look like hate to me.”

I lifted my chin, trying to sound steady. “I came in because you dared me.”

“No, Blake. You came in because you wanted to.” His voice was low, threaded with something I couldn’t name. “And now you don’t know what to do with yourself.”

My pulse was a hammer. I stepped back, but his hand brushed my wrist lightly and deliberately. Not enough to trap me. Just enough to remind me he could.

“You should open the door,” I whispered.

“Say you don’t want this, and I will.” His gaze pinned me. “But if you lie, I’ll know.”

Silence stretched too long. My throat was dry. I couldn’t say the words, not without choking on them.

His smile curved, slow and knowing. He leaned down just close enough that his breath skimmed my jaw. “Thought so.”

My chest ached from how hard I was breathing. I hated that he was right. Hated that part of me wanted to lean closer instead of pulling away.

“This is wrong,” I said finally.

“Maybe.” His lips almost brushed my ear. “But wrong’s never stopped you before, has it?”

I stiffened, my pride sparking. “You don’t know me.”

“Not yet.” His voice was a promise.

I should’ve shoved him, stormed out, slammed the door. Instead, I just stood there, body betraying me with every nervous inhale.

And then…

“Sienna!”

Lena’s voice, sharp, carrying up the stairs.

We both froze.

“Dinner’s ready!”

Jaxon’s eyes stayed locked on mine, unblinking. “Go,” he said, his tone rough.

I exhaled, shaky, stepping back toward the door.

His smirk returned, faint but dangerous. “We’ll finish this later.”

I didn’t answer. Couldn’t. My legs carried me out into the hallway, but my head was still inside that room, spinning, my heart still beating like it belonged to him.

Sienna

The kiss changed everything.

We went back to pretending. We had to. Slamming doors, throwing insults, fighting over who got shotgun in the car. But it was just camouflage. Underneath it, the truth hummed like static.

Every time he walked past me, I felt it.

Every brush of his hand was a spark I tried to smother.

Every look across the dinner table was too long, too sharp.

I filled pages in my journal, my handwriting jagged, desperate.

I hate him.

I hate his mouth.

I hate how much I want his mouth.

I hate that I can’t stop.

At night, the house turned into our playground. Parents asleep. Doors closed. The kitchen light flicking on like a secret signal.

One night, he leaned against the counter, watching me smoke by the open window.

“You’re still smoking,” he said.

“So what?” I exhaled a thin stream into the dark.

“Nothing.” His eyes didn’t leave mine. “You just… you look sad.”

I scoffed. “I’m not sad.”

“Yes, you are.” His voice dropped. He stepped closer, slow. “I see it.”

I hated how his words slipped under my armor. Hated how I wanted to believe him.

“I get it,” he murmured. “It’s hard. All of this.”

The ache inside me cracked open. “It’s so hard,” I whispered, before I could stop myself.

His eyes softened in a way that scared me more than his smirk ever did. “I know. I feel it too. The silence. Pretending.”

“Pretending what?”

“That we’re not dying to be alone together.”

Then his hand brushed my chin, thumb grazing my cheek. The fuse inside me lit.

The fuse was lit, but instead of exploding into something reckless, it burned slow.

His thumb lingered on my cheek, steady and warm, and for once he wasn’t smirking.

“What happened today?” he asked.

I swallowed, blinking fast. I didn’t want to talk about it. Didn’t want him to know that the whispers in the hallway, the way those girls laughed behind their hands, still cut me open. But his eyes didn’t let me hide.

“Nothing,” I lied.

He tilted his head, studying me. “You don’t cry over nothing.”

I turned away, gripping the edge of the counter until my knuckles went white. “They said I was pathetic. That I’ll never be anything. That I’ll always be just… the broken girl with two mothers.”

The words slipped out like poison I couldn’t keep in anymore. My throat burned.

For a second, silence hung between us. Then Jaxon’s hand covered mine on the counter. His grip wasn’t rough, not like usual. Gentle. Careful, like I might shatter.

“They don’t know you,” he said. “They wouldn’t last a day in your skin.”

I shook my head, a bitter laugh catching in my chest. “You don’t even like me. You’ve said worse.”

“Yeah.” His jaw clenched. “But I never meant it. Not like that.”

I looked at him, really looked. The boy who drove me crazy, who pushed every button I had, who had kissed me at that party like I meant the world to him and acted like he hates every inch of me afterwards. And right then, he wasn’t the enemy. He was the only one who saw me.

“You’re stronger than them, Sienna,” he said, his voice low. “Stronger than me, even. Don’t forget that.”

The way he said my name made my chest ache. I leaned into his touch before I could stop myself. His thumb brushed away the tear I hadn’t realized had slipped free.

“You make it sound like you care,” I whispered.

His lips quirked, but not in his usual mocking way. “Maybe I do.”

The words hit me harder than any kiss could.

For the first time in forever, I let myself lean against him. His arms came around me, steady, holding me together when I felt like I was unraveling. I should’ve pulled away. I should’ve remembered who we were, what this was. But instead, I let myself sink into the warmth of him.

Then he kissed me again, this time it wasn’t a game. It wasn’t a dare. It was a confession.

And for a few stolen minutes in that quiet kitchen, it wasn’t hate, or war, or pretending. It was just us.

We became thieves after that. Stolen moments in shadows; garage, laundry room, empty hallways. Quick, hungry touches that always stopped too soon, leaving us both burning.

But secrets weigh heavy.

It was after school, Football practice had just ended, and Jaxon still in his gear with sweat darkening his shirt leaned against his car like he owned the whole lot. The gleaming black sports car pulled stares, but so did he. Girls whispered, guys slapped him on the back. He spotted me across the lot, his smirk sliding into something only I recognized.

“Come on, Sienna,” he called, voice casual, but there was something heavier under it.

I hesitated, heart rattling, then walked toward him. He opened the passenger door like a gentleman, though his grin told me it was anything but. I climbed in, my pulse racing.

The engine roared to life, low and smooth. He pulled out of the lot, one hand on the wheel, the other sliding across the console until his fingers brushed mine. I froze. He didn’t look at me, just kept driving, but his thumb traced the inside of my wrist, a touch that wasn’t brotherly in the slightest. My breath caught.

And that’s when I saw Tyler.

He was leaving practice too, duffel slung over his shoulder, eyes narrowing as he caught the moment. His whole body stiffened, jaw locking. I knew that look. The jealous spark had turned into fire.

But it wasn’t just Tyler. Kendra was there too, standing with a group of girls by the bleachers. She followed Tyler’s gaze, then mine, and her face shifted. Suspicion, curiosity. She saw it too.

My stomach sank.

By the time Jaxon pulled into our driveway, my phone was already buzzing in my bag. I didn’t need to check to know it was Tyler.

Tyler is my ex. He  has a jealous streak that snapped sharp when he saw me smiling too sweet when Jaxon rested his arm on my laps as we exited the parking lot of the school’s sports center earlier. His texts came fast, angry:

Is he touching you? Is he looking at you? I’ll tell your dad.

Cold panic sliced through me.

Then Kendra. My best friend. She cornered me at school the next day, eyes narrowing like she was piecing together a puzzle.

“Sienna… you and Jaxon. There’s something there. I can feel it.”

I laughed it off. Lied straight to her face. But inside, the knot in my chest twisted tighter.

It was a Tuesday. The heat was suffocating, pressing against the kitchen walls. Jaxon and I were chopping vegetables for dinner, side by side but too close. My phone buzzed on the counter.

Tyler: I saw you two vividly that day. I know. Tell me the truth, or I’ll tell your dad.

The knife slipped in my hand, clattering to the tile.

Jaxon’s head turned instantly. “What happened?”

“Nothing.” My voice shook.

His brows pulled tight. “Sienna.”

“I said it’s nothing.” I bent for the knife, my fingers trembling so hard I nearly dropped it again.

He caught my wrist. His hand was steady, warm. Too much.

“Talk to me. What’s going on?”

“Leave it.” My voice cracked.

“No.” His tone sharpened. “Not this time. Is it Tyler? Did he see something?”

The words punched air from my lungs. Tears stung my eyes.

“What does it matter?” I snapped, desperate. “It’s a mistake, Jaxon. All of this. It was a mistake.”

His face shifted from hurt flashing into something darker. “A mistake?” His voice dropped, dangerous. “You’re calling this… us… a mistake?”

“Yes!” The word tore from me, raw. “It was a mistake!”

He grabbed my arm, firm. “Come with me. Now.”

“Let go!”

He didn’t. He dragged me down the hall, through the door into the garage. The air was heavy, smelling of oil and heat. He shoved me back against the wall; not hard, but enough that I felt trapped. His hands locked on my shoulders. His eyes burned into mine.

“Tell me you don’t feel this,” he demanded, his voice low and rough. “Right now. Say it.”

I opened my mouth. Nothing came. My throat refused the lie.

“Say it!” he pressed, closer now, his breath hot against my skin.

My chest rose and fell too fast. I couldn’t breathe. Couldn’t think. His forehead dropped against mine. His voice was a growl.

“You can’t. Because it’s real.”

My eyes stung. “It’s wrong.”

“Then stop me.”

His hands slid down my arms, slow, testing, like he was giving me a chance. I didn’t stop him. The silence between us crackled, alive. Anger and want tangled until I couldn’t tell them apart. His mouth hovered inches from mine. I felt his restraint, my breaking point.

And then…

“God, you make me insane.” His voice cracked rough, frustration tearing through it. His fingers dug into my shoulders, not hurting, but holding me there like I was the only thing keeping him grounded.

“Then let me go!” I fired back, though my voice shook. “If this is driving you crazy, then let me walk away. Pretend it never happened.”

His jaw clenched, his face so close I could see every flicker of anger in his eyes. “Pretend?” He let out a sharp laugh, bitter and raw. “You think I can just erase the way you look at me? The way you kiss me back?”

“That was a mistake…”

“No.” His tone cut like a blade. “Don’t you dare call it that again.”

I shoved against his chest, but he didn’t budge. “You’re my stepbrother, Jaxon! This is messed up. It’s wrong.”

He leaned closer, voice a low snarl against my ear. “Then why aren’t you fighting harder? Why do you shake every time I touch you?”

I hated him for being right. Hated myself for the way my body betrayed me.

“Because you won’t stop!” My words broke on a sob. “You keep pushing until I can’t think straight…”

“Because you don’t want me to stop.”

The air burned hot between us, his breath on my lips, my chest heaving against his. I wanted to scream at him, shove him away, lock every door between us. Instead, the truth clawed up my throat and I couldn’t hold it back.

“You’re impossible,” I whispered, hating how weak it sounded.

His eyes softened, just a fraction, but his voice stayed rough. “And you’re a liar.”

Something snapped then between us, inside me, I couldn’t tell. His hand slid to the back of my neck, pulling me closer, and this time I didn’t resist. The tension that had been choking us ignited into something else, something hotter and more dangerous.

“My back hit the cold garage wall, his body pressing hard into mine, his heat and scent overwhelming the sharp bite of grease and motor oil until that moment spun out of control and led to the night we crossed the line completely, right there in the garage.”