Chapter 17
Seventeen
LAN
Iwoke up feeling like my brain had been replaced with cotton candy—sweet memories and fuzzy thoughts all swirled together in a sugar-coated haze of post-makeout bliss.
For one disorienting moment, I couldn’t place where I was.
Then the scent hit me—that distinctive mix of expensive cologne, fabric softener, and something uniquely him that no department store would ever be able to bottle.
Jaxson’s room. Jaxson’s bed. Jaxson’s sheets twisted around my legs like evidence of sins I wasn’t sure I regretted.
But no Jaxson.
I buried my face in his pillow, inhaling deeply like some lovesick protagonist from one of Bree’s romance novels.
The memories of last night crashed over me in waves of embarrassment and desire—Jaxson’s patient hands guiding mine, his mouth teaching mine, the way he’d growled when I begged him for more…
My fingers drifted unconsciously to my lips, still feeling slightly swollen, still tingling with phantom sensations.
My first kiss. My first real kiss. Not just any kiss, but one that had ignited something in me I never knew existed—or perhaps had always existed, just waiting to be awakened.
The way Jaxson had tilted my head to the perfect angle, how his tongue had teased mine, the heat of his breath mingling with my own…
I’d never imagined a simple meeting of lips could feel like diving into an ocean of sensation.
Even now, hours later, I could still feel that strange warmth between us, like golden threads connecting our bodies.
And that scent—honey, cherry blossoms, and lilies—lingered in the air around me, though fainter than it had been last night.
I’d never noticed it before, but now it seemed to follow me, emanating from my own skin.
Whatever it was, it made me feel oddly comforted, like being wrapped in a familiar embrace.
A giggle escaped before I could stop it, high and girlish and absolutely mortifying. Had that really happened? Had I actually begged my stepbrother to teach me how to kiss? Had his hands really wrapped around my—
“Oh God,” I groaned into the pillow, mortification doing the cha-cha with delight in my chest. We’d crossed a line that definitely wasn’t in any “How to Be Good Stepbrothers” manual.
Not that such a manual existed, but if it did, “giving midnight hand jobs and soul-shattering kisses” would probably be filed under “Things That Will Send You Straight to Hell.”
The rational part of my brain—the part that wasn’t still drunk on memories of Jaxson’s touch and taste—screamed that I should be freaking out more.
We were stepbrothers. This was wrong on approximately twelve different levels.
But the rest of me just wanted to stay wrapped in his sheets forever, surrounded by his scent and the lingering warmth of what we’d shared.
My lips still carried his imprint, a secret mark only I could feel.
My body remembered his touch with an intensity that defied explanation—like it had been waiting for him, specifically him, all along.
Reality, however, had other plans. The smell of Wei’s cooking wafted from across the hallway, and my stomach betrayed me with a growl that could probably be heard in China. With heroic effort, I extracted myself from Jaxson’s bed, mourning the loss of warmth as I zombie-walked toward the door.
The journey to the kitchen felt like navigating through syrup—my legs heavy with sleep and memories making every step an adventure in coordination.
I kept reliving the way Jaxson had kissed me, how it had started as gentle instruction and transformed into something hungry and desperate, like he’d been starving for the taste of me.
The memory alone made my knees weak, my lips tingling as if the kisses were happening all over again.
I rubbed my eyes as I shuffled through the doorway, the familiar sounds and smells of morning washing over me.
And there they were—my collection of unreasonably attractive stepbrothers, each one looking like they’d stepped out of different magazine spreads.
Jaxson, the GQ cover model with his perfectly tousled dark hair and casual confidence.
Colt, the intense fitness guru with his surgical precision and brooding stare.
Xander, the laid-back lifestyle influencer who could make bedhead look intentional.
And Nico, the gaming enthusiast who somehow managed to look adorable despite having clearly not slept in approximately seventy-two hours.
“Wei’s cooking wake you up?” Nico’s voice pierced through my sleep-hazed brain.
I managed something between a grunt and a whimper as I collapsed into the chair beside him, too tired to form actual words.
My brain was still in Jaxson’s bed, replaying last night’s highlights reel in vivid detail—especially the way his mouth had claimed mine, teaching me exactly how a kiss could set your whole body on fire.
“Your lips look rather… well used this morning,” Wei’s voice cut through my daze like a knife wrapped in velvet. “Rough night, Little Fairy?”
My hand flew to my mouth automatically, heat flooding my cheeks faster than Colt could organize a spreadsheet. That knowing tone, that infuriating smirk—my demon of a half brother had to be related to Satan himself. No one else could pack that much suggestion into those simple words.
I was suddenly, painfully aware of how swollen my lips must look, still bearing the evidence of Jaxson’s thorough “lessons.” Could everyone see it? Could they tell that I’d spent half the night learning exactly how a tongue could make you forget your own name?
“Must’ve bitten them in my sleep,” I mumbled, suddenly finding the grain patterns in the wooden table absolutely fascinating. Maybe if I stared hard enough, they’d spell out how to disappear into thin air or at least how to stop blushing like a Victorian maiden who’d just seen an ankle.
“Must have,” Wei agreed, his voice dripping with enough sarcasm to fill the Pacific. “Eggs, Shrine Maiden? Or did you work up an appetite for something… else?”
The nickname made me want to crawl under the table and die.
I could feel eyes on me, though I didn’t dare look up to see whose.
The kitchen had gone so quiet I could hear Colt’s precise movements as he adjusted his coffee mug on its coaster—a sound that usually preceded someone getting lectured about proper household etiquette.
“Yes, please,” I whispered, wincing at how rough my voice sounded. Was it obvious why? Did everyone know? Could they somehow see the ghost of Jaxson’s kisses on my skin? Were they all secretly judging the boy who’d begged his stepbrother for kissing lessons?
“Coming right up,” Wei sang out, far too cheerful for someone wielding both a spatula and devastating insider knowledge. “Though I must say, you’re looking particularly… refreshed this morning. Sleep well?”
I made a noise that might have been agreement or possibly just my soul trying to escape my body.
“He better have slept well,” Nico yawned, completely missing the undertones crackling through the air like static electricity. “Some of us were up all night fighting digital dragons while others got their beauty rest.”
I risked a glance up, immediately regretting it when I caught Xander’s heated gaze.
His eyes lingered on my face, particularly my mouth, with an intensity that made my stomach flutter.
But that had to be the breakfast, right?
The anticipation of Wei’s legendary eggs, not the way Xander was looking at me like I was the breakfast he’d rather be having.
The most unsettling part was the way his nostrils flared slightly, as if he was catching a scent that affected him deeply. Did I smell bad? I’d showered last night, but maybe that strange honey-sweet scent was stronger than I realized. Maybe it was bothering him?
Colt wasn’t any better. His dark eyes bore into me with such force I could practically feel them burning holes through my skin.
The way his fingers gripped his fork suggested he was imagining stabbing something—or someone.
Probably me, for some offense I wasn’t aware of committing.
Maybe I’d violated some unwritten rule in his mental handbook of proper morning behavior.
And Jaxson… I barely dared to peek at him, but when I did—
Oh God.
The memories of last night collided with the reality of morning, and I wasn’t prepared for either.
How was I supposed to act normal when every cell in my body remembered the feel of his hands, the taste of his mouth, the way he’d looked at me like I was something precious and desirable instead of his awkward, inexperienced stepbrother?
How could I sit here eating eggs when just hours ago his tongue had been exploring my mouth like he was mapping uncharted territory?
But there was something else in his eyes too—something golden and fierce that made my heart race and that strange warmth flare between us again. It wasn’t just desire. It was something more primal, more possessive. Like he was staking a claim.
“Toast?” Wei offered innocently, but his eyes sparkled with amusement as he watched me squirm like a bug under a magnifying glass. “You look like you could use some… sustenance.”
I was going to kill him. Just as soon as I remembered how to make my brain work properly. And maybe after I figured out why three of my stepbrothers were looking at me like… like…
Well, I wasn’t sure exactly like what. But it was making my stomach do funny things that had nothing to do with hunger.
At least, not hunger for food.