Chapter 7
Liam
MY HEAD NESTLES IN the crook of Tyler’s neck, my arm draped across his naked torso, our legs tangled like we’ve been sleeping this way for years.
His steady breathing brushes against my hair, and the memory of last night crashes over me in waves that leave me dizzy.
If someone had told me at the start of this getaway that I’d end up in bed with my stepbrother, I’d have told them they were out of their mind.
Yet here we are, skin against skin, the evidence of last night’s passion still between us.
I blink against the sunlight streaming through the curtains, allowing reality to settle over me. Tyler Murphy is asleep in my bed. Tyler Murphy—college athlete extraordinaire, certified asshole, and the bane of my existence—fucked me senseless last night.
And I begged for more.
My body aches in places I didn’t know could ache, a delicious reminder of how he claimed me.
Twice. The first time was fast and desperate, both of us shocked by the intensity of wanting each other after years of pretending we didn’t.
The second time slower, grinding together in the pale light of dawn until we came calling each other’s names.
Christ, even thinking about it now has my cock hardening against his thigh.
I trace my fingertips across his chest, marveling at the smooth skin stretched over defined muscle.
He’s beautiful in the morning light—softer somehow, vulnerable without the cocky smirk he normally wears, like armor.
My fingers drift lower, following the trail of light brown hair that disappears beneath the sheet barely covering his hips.
Tyler stirs, his breathing pattern changing, and I freeze, uncertain. What if he regrets this?
His eyes flutter open, focusing slowly until they lock on mine.
For one terrible second, confusion clouds his face.
Then recognition dawns, and his lips curve into the most genuine smile I’ve ever seen from him.
Not the practiced charm he flashes at parties or the smug grin when he bests someone.
This smile transforms his entire face, crinkling the corners of his eyes, revealing a small dimple I’ve never noticed before.
“Morning,” he murmurs, voice rough with sleep. His eyes scan my face.
I smile back, the tightness in my chest easing. “Morning.”
Relief flashes in those warm brown eyes before he masks it. He runs his hand up my arm, goosebumps rising in the wake of his touch.
“So, I’m taking it you don’t consider last night a mistake?” He aims for casual, but I catch the slight tension in his jaw, the way his fingers pause against my skin.
“No,” I say, because it’s true. Whatever this is between us—this surprising, explosive thing—it doesn’t feel like a mistake. It feels like something that’s been building for years, disguised as animosity.
Tyler nods, his expression softening. He resumes drawing invisible patterns on my arm, the calluses on his fingertips creating delicious friction against my skin. We lie in silence for several minutes, the cabin quiet except for our breathing and the distant call of birds.
“Liam, I’m sorry,” he finally says.
“For what?” I prop myself up on one elbow to better see his face.
“For being such an asshole to you. All these years.” His voice is low and serious. “I was cruel sometimes. I know that.”
“It’s okay,” I tell him.
“No, it’s not.” He shifts to face me. “Your life was disrupted just as much as mine when our parents got married. That wasn’t your fault.”
I study his face, trying to reconcile this thoughtful man with the antagonistic stepbrother I’ve known for years. “Why were you so angry with me?”
Tyler sighs, his hand now tracing the line of my collarbone. “I was jealous.”
“Of me?” I can’t keep the disbelief from my voice. “Why would you be jealous of me?”
He laughs, a short, self-deprecating sound.
“Because you’re fucking brilliant, Liam.
You’re going to work at NASA someday. I know you will.
You’ll design rockets and shit.” His fingers move up to my face, stroking my cheek with surprising tenderness.
“And what am I? Just an athlete with an expiration date. Best-case scenario, I’m washed up by thirty with nothing but old trophies to show for it. ”
“That’s not true,” I protest, catching his hand in mine. “You’re more than that.”
Tyler shrugs. “And then there’s my dad. He worships the ground you walk on. ‘Why can’t you be more like Liam?’ ‘Liam got another scholarship.’ ‘Liam knows what he wants to do with his life.’” He mimics his father’s voice.
“That’s bullshit,” I say firmly. “Your dad brags about you constantly. All those trophies in your room? He had special shelves built for them.”
“It doesn’t matter.” Tyler shakes his head. “I shouldn’t have taken it out on you. I’m sorry.”
The apology hangs between us, sincere and unexpected. I run my fingers through his hair, still messy from sleep and our…activities. “I wasn’t exactly innocent either. I provoked you sometimes.”
A smile tugs at the corner of his mouth. “Yeah, you did. It worked, too.” His eyes darken. “Also, because even when I hated you, I still felt…protective. Maybe even a little possessive.”
A flush spreads across his cheekbones as he admits this, and I’m struck by how strangely endearing it is to see Tyler Murphy—confident, cocky Tyler—blush. My heart thuds in my chest.
“I don’t mind,” I admit, my voice dropping lower. “I like that you’re possessive.”
“Good,” he growls and nips at the sensitive skin below my ear. “Because I’ve been watching both girls and guys check you out for years, and it drives me fucking crazy.”
I gasp as he sucks hard enough to leave a mark. “You never said anything.”
“Because I wasn’t supposed to care.” His hand slides down my chest, fingers splaying across my stomach before moving lower. “I wasn’t supposed to want my stepbrother.”
When his hand wraps around me, I arch into his touch, all coherent thought fleeing. “Tyler—”
“But I want you,” he continues, his strokes slow and deliberate. “Have for a long time. Been driving myself crazy, trying not to think about you like this.”
I reach for him, finding him hard. His breath hitches as I match his rhythm. “Like what?”
He kisses me, deep and demanding. “Like mine,” he murmurs against my lips.
We move together, hands working in tandem, mouths crashing in hungry kisses. It’s less frantic than last night, but no less intense—the morning light making everything more real, more vulnerable. When we finally come, moments apart, Tyler holds me close through the aftershocks, whispering my name.
Later, as we lie catching our breath, I trace the defined muscles of his chest and admit, “I don’t want to leave this place.”
Tyler’s fingers thread through my hair. “Why not?”
“I’m afraid,” I confess, the words difficult to push past the lump in my throat. “Afraid this is some kind of dream or temporary insanity. That once we go back home, we’ll revert to how things were.”
Tyler shifts, tilting my chin up to meet his gaze. His eyes are serious, intense. “I won’t be able to go back, Liam. Not after I’ve finally had you.” His thumb brushes across my lower lip. “Could you? Go back to how things were between us?”
“God, no.” The very thought makes my chest ache. “I much prefer this version of you.”
He smiles, but it fades. “Shit. Our parents are going to freak out.”
“Mom will be horrified,” I agree, picturing her shocked expression.
“We should tell them together,” Tyler says suddenly, his arm tightening around me.
I nod, comforted by the thought of facing them with Tyler by my side. “The look on your dad’s face is going to be priceless.”
Tyler laughs, the sound vibrating through his chest against my ear. “Their vow renewal in August will be awkward.”
“It’ll be spectacularly awkward.” I grin despite myself as I imagine the sideways glances, the whispered conversations that will start when we enter a room.
Tyler shifts beneath me, pulling me closer until there’s no space left between us, only warmth and the steady thump of his heart under my cheek. “Whatever happens,” he says, his voice soft but firm, “I’m not letting you go.”
It hits me then—this isn’t just about lust or some forbidden thrill. It’s about all the years we spent circling each other with bared teeth, not realizing we were guarding the same ache. I tighten my arm around him and nod against his chest, too full of emotion to speak.
Outside the cabin, the birds have gone quiet, and the only sound is the wind in the trees. Inside, everything feels suspended, like we’ve stepped into a different version of our lives—one where we’re allowed to want this, to want each other.
Tyler brushes a kiss into my hair. “When we get home, we’ll figure it out,” he promises. “We’ll take it one day at a time.”
I lift my head to meet his gaze. “Okay,” I whisper. And I mean it. I’m not afraid of what comes next.
Tyler’s hand finds mine beneath the sheets, fingers lacing through mine with a certainty that leaves no room for doubt. We stay like that for a while, not speaking, not moving, just holding on.
And for the first time, we’re not pretending anymore.
The End