1. Holly #2
His gray eyes have gone glacial, his jaw set in a hard line beneath his beard.
The tattoos covering his arms seem to make him more intimidating—evidence of danger, of a life these boys can't comprehend.
Josh stands immediately, recognizing the threat.
Tyler hesitates a moment longer before common sense wins over pride.
"Whatever, dude." Tyler raises his hands in mock surrender. "Not worth the drama."
They disappear toward the beach bar, muttering to each other. I should feel relieved. Instead, my pulse races as Harrison turns that intense gaze on me.
"I had it under control," I say, hating how breathless I sound.
"Did you?" His eyes rake over my body in the black bikini, lingering on my breasts, my stomach, my thighs. His jaw clenches. "Or were you hoping I'd notice?"
The air between us crackles with something electric and forbidden. I should look away. Should make some excuse and leave. Instead, I meet his stare with my chin lifted.
"Notice what?"
"Don't play games, Holly." He leans down, bringing his face closer to mine. His voice drops to barely above a whisper, meant only for me. "You shouldn't wear things like that where other men can see you, stepsister."
The word—stepsister—sounds different in his mouth. Like a caress and a warning wrapped together. Heat floods through me, pooling low in my belly.
Before I can respond, he straightens and walks away with that same controlled stride, leaving me shaken and aching and completely confused.
Late afternoon sun casts golden light across the secluded stretch of beach I've found, far enough from the resort that the sounds of other guests fade to nothing.
Just waves against sand and wind through palm trees.
I needed space to think, to process what happened at the pool, to understand why Harrison's possessiveness made my entire body catch fire.
This is wrong. He's my stepbrother—not by blood, but by law, by family structure. Our parents' marriage made this attraction taboo. Forbidden.
So why does that make me want him more?
"Running from me, Holly?"
I spin around, heart leaping into my throat. Harrison emerges from the shadows cast by palm trees, still shirtless, his tattooed arms crossed over his broad chest. He must have followed me. Must have watched me walk down here alone.
"I'm not running from anyone." I force my voice steady even as my pulse hammers.
He approaches slowly, predatory, like I'm prey he's been tracking. "Liar. You've been running for two years."
I back up instinctively until I hit a palm tree trunk, bark rough against my bare back. "Harrison, we can't?—"
"Can't what?" He's right in front of me now, so close I can feel heat radiating from his skin. His hand comes up to brace beside my head, caging me in. "Say what's been between us since the day we met?"
"You're my brother." The words come out weak, unconvincing even to my own ears.
"Stepbrother." His voice is rough, strained. "Not your brother. Our parents got married two years ago—that doesn't make us real siblings, Holly."
His other hand comes up to trace my jaw with fingers that are calloused and confident. I shiver despite the heat.
"There's no blood between us," Harrison continues, his gray eyes boring into mine. "Just this chemistry that's driving me insane. Just this attraction I've been fighting for two goddamn years because you're young and innocent and I should be better than this."
"Should be?" I whisper.
"I'm not." His thumb brushes my lower lip. "I'm not better. I've wanted you from the moment I saw you, and watching other men look at you today made me want to commit violence. Tell me you don't feel this."
I can't. The lie won't form because it's too enormous, too obvious. My body responds to his proximity with flushed skin and rapid breaths and wetness gathering between my thighs.
"Tell me to stop and I will," Harrison says, his breath ghosting across my lips. "Tell me this is wrong and we'll never speak of it again."
I should. I should say the words that will end this before it begins. But my mouth won't cooperate, won't form the rejection he's asking for.
"That's what I thought." His lips crash against mine.
The kiss is nothing like I imagined my first kiss would be.
It's consuming, possessive, skilled. Harrison's mouth moves against mine with practiced confidence while I struggle to keep up, overwhelmed by sensation.
His tongue traces the seam of my lips and I open for him on instinct, gasping as he explores.
He groans into my mouth, one hand sliding into my hair to angle my head exactly where he wants it. The other presses against the small of my back, pulling me flush against his hard body. I can feel every ridge of muscle, the heat of his skin, the evidence of his arousal pressing against my stomach.
This is my first kiss. My stepbrother is taking my first kiss and it's better than anything I could have imagined—it's overwhelming and perfect and wrong and right all at once.
Harrison pulls back slightly, his breathing ragged. "Have you ever been kissed before?"
Shame and arousal war inside me as I shake my head.
His gray eyes darken with something primitive and possessive. "Good. You're mine to teach, stepsister."
The word sends electricity down my spine. He kisses me again, slower this time, teaching me with his lips and tongue how he wants me to respond. I learn quickly, matching his rhythm, earning an approving sound from deep in his chest.
His hand slides down from my hair, over my neck, tracing my collarbone before his fingers play with the edge of my bikini top. I gasp against his mouth and he swallows the sound.
"You've been driving me crazy in this bikini all day," Harrison murmurs against my lips. "Do you know how many men were staring at you? How badly I wanted to cover you up, hide you away where only I could see?"
"Harrison—"
His hand slides down my stomach, fingers playing with the string ties of my bikini bottoms. "How far have you gone, Holly?"
I don't understand the question at first, too overwhelmed by his touch.
"Has anyone touched you here?" His fingers press against my pussy through the thin fabric.
I whimper, shaking my head. "No. No one."
Harrison goes completely still. When he speaks, his voice is strained. "You're a virgin."
"Yes," I whisper, mortified and aroused in equal measure.
"Fuck." His forehead presses against mine, his breathing harsh. "You're untouched and you're my stepsister and I should walk away right now."
"But you won't?" The question comes out desperate.
His laugh is dark, almost pained. "No, baby. I'm too far gone. I'm going to be your first everything."
His fingers slip beneath my bikini bottoms, finding my wet heat. I cry out at the contact, my hips jerking involuntarily. Harrison captures my mouth again, kissing me deeply while his fingers explore territory no one has ever touched.
"So wet for me already." His voice is rough against my lips. "Does my stepsister like being touched by her much older stepbrother?"
I can't form words. Can't think past the sensation of his fingers parting my folds, one thick digit circling my entrance before pressing inside.
The intrusion makes me gasp. It's foreign and intimate and overwhelming—the first finger to ever enter me belongs to my stepbrother. Harrison works it deeper, his thumb finding my clit and circling with practiced skill.
"So tight," he murmurs, watching my face with hungry intensity. "I'm going to enjoy taking this virgin pussy, Holly."
His crude words should shock me. Instead they make me wetter, make my hips move against his hand seeking more. Harrison adds a second finger and I feel the stretch, the slight burn as my body accommodates the invasion.
"That's it," he encourages, his palm grinding against my clit while his fingers curl inside me. "Take my fingers like a good girl."
Pleasure builds with shocking intensity. My inexperienced body doesn't know how to process the sensations—the fullness, the pressure on my clit, the skill of his movements. Harrison knows exactly what he's doing, exactly how to touch me to drive me higher.
"Harrison, I—something's—" I can't finish the sentence, overwhelmed by the coiling tension.
"Let go, baby." His fingers thrust deeper, faster, his thumb circling my clit with perfect pressure. "Come on your stepbrother's fingers."
The orgasm crashes through me without warning—intense, shattering, nothing like the small releases I've given myself alone in my dorm room.
My pussy clenches around his fingers, my entire body shaking as pleasure washes over me in waves.
I cry out, muffled against his shoulder as he works me through it.
"Beautiful," Harrison says roughly, watching my face. "And all mine."
I'm still trembling, still processing what just happened, when Frances's voice carries down the beach.
"Holly? Are you down here?"
Panic floods through me. Harrison's hand is still between my thighs, his fingers still inside me. We freeze, reality crashing back.
He withdraws slowly, deliberately. Then, maintaining eye contact, he brings his fingers to his mouth and tastes me.
My eyes widen, shocked and impossibly aroused by the crude intimacy of the gesture.
Harrison adjusts my bikini bottoms carefully, making me presentable with hands that are surprisingly gentle. "Go. Before she comes closer."
"What about?—"
"This isn't over, stepsister." His voice is rough with promise. "Not even close. Tonight, I'm coming to your room, and I'm going to finish what we started."
He steps back into the palm tree shadows, disappearing like he was never there. I emerge onto the open beach on shaking legs, intercepting Frances before she can get close enough to see my flushed face, my swollen lips.
"There you are!" Mom smiles, waving. "Dinner in an hour, sweetheart."
"Okay," I manage, my voice barely steady.
Frances heads back toward the resort, chattering about the restaurant reservations. I follow slowly, my body still humming with aftershocks.
What have I done? What am I going to do?
And why do I want tonight to come so desperately?