Stepbrother’s Obsession

Chapter 1

LILY

I do not want to be taking this vacation.

The lake house is gorgeous as we pull up, but my stomach flips like a pancake when I see him through the windshield. Every circuit in my eighteen-year-old brain goes haywire.

He’s bent over a motorcycle, shirtless, back muscles rippling as he works. Oil and sweat gleam on his skin in the late afternoon sun. When he straightens and turns toward us, our eyes meet, and the impact hits me like a bucket of ice water. It’s shocking and steals my breath.

His eyes are dark, and even darker hair falls over them. His jaw could cut glass, and tattoos snake up his muscled arms and over his chest, creating a mural of stories I am dying to unravel.

This gorgeous male specimen is Colt, and he is my new stepbrother.

Mom cuts the engine, blabbering about the drive, the house, the wedding plans, but her voice just fades into the background as I stare, transfixed. I can’t look away as he approaches like a predator who knows just how dangerous he is.

“Well, well, well, you made it.” His voice is rough, somehow deeper than I’d expected. He’s addressing Mom, but his eyes flick to me for just a second, sending an electric jolt through me before he looks away.

I fumble with my seatbelt, my fingers suddenly sloppy. When I finally manage to slip out of the car, the mountain air hits my lungs–crisp pine and lake water. There’s something else masculine too…must be him.

He’s close enough now that I can see the scar that cuts through his left eyebrow and the way his jaw tightens as Mom throws her arms around him in a hug he clearly didn’t expect.

Something happens between my thighs. A tingling sensation like I’ve never felt before when looking at a man. My lips open too, like they’re preparing to accept something.

“Colt, this is Lily,” Mom gushes, showing me off like a prized pony. “Lily, dear, this is Jim’s son I’ve been telling you all about.”

He looks me over properly, and I swear the temperature skyrockets. His gaze drags up my body, quick and dismissive. A curt nod and he turns away. “Hey.”

That’s it? Just ‘hey’? Like I’m nothing? Like that moment when our eyes met through the windshield didn’t rearrange my entire molecular structure.

“Hi,” I manage to whisper. God, my voice sounds so breathy.

Jim, my future stepdad, emerges from the house, grinning and laughing as he wraps Mom up in the kind of hug that makes me avert my eyes.

Their happiness is almost aggressive in how perfect it is.

The way he touches the small of her back, how she melts into him like she’s been away from him for decades.

I’ve never seen her like this. So obsessed. So complete.

It makes me feel like I’m intruding on a private moment, even though I’m a part of this new family unit we’re building.

“I’ll get your bags,” Colt says, moving toward the trunk. His voice carries a note of obligation rather than nicety.

I follow behind, because apparently, I have no self-preservation instincts when it comes to this gorgeous man. Up close, I can smell the motor oil. I see the scars on his hands, the rough skin showing how capable he is. They brush against mine as we both reach for my suitcase at the same time.

The contact lasts barely a second, but the moment brands into my brain like a hot iron.

“I’ve got it!” he snaps, nearly biting my head off. Mom told me he’s twenty-eight, and the difference between him and boys my age is brutally obvious.

“I can carry my own luggage—”

“I said I got it.” His tone leaves no room for discussion, and there’s something almost angry in the way he lifts my suitcase like it weighs nothing.

I want to argue, push back against this wall he’s thrown up between us, but Jim’s already ushering us inside, telling us about dinner plans and sleeping arrangements.

The interior of the lake house is all exposed wood beams and stone, rustic in that expensive way where everything looks simple but probably cost more than our old apartment.

A fireplace crackles away as Colt disappears upstairs with my bag.

Jim gives us the grand tour, his arm never leaving Mom’s waist.

“Your room’s upstairs, Lily, second door on the right. You’re right across from Colt, actually. He’s been fixing it up for you.”

My heart does some kind of complex hop, skip, and jump inside my chest. Colt has been preparing for me?

When he reappears, his expression is unreadable. “Your room’s ready. Bathroom’s at the end of the hall. Fresh towels in the closet.”

He rattles off information like a general addressing his troops, looking away from me the entire time.

“Colt, why don’t you show Lily around the grounds while Jim and I start dinner?” Mom suggests, fluttering her eyelids at her new man.

Colt’s jaw tightens. “No, she can explore on her own. I have a bike to finish.”

“Colt—” Jim starts, but he’s already heading outside. He pauses at the door, briefly looking back at me.

“Don’t go into the garage. It’s not a place for kids.”

Kids!? The word hits me like a slap. I’m eighteen years old. I just graduated two months ago. I am not a child, and from the way his eyes traced over my body earlier, he knows that.

“I’m eighteen, Colt,” I say, finding my trembling voice.

Something flashes in his eyes—amusement? Interest? “Could have fooled me.”

And with that, he’s gone, the door slamming shut behind him, locking me inside like a bank vault.

Mom and Jim exchange glances, and I hear Jim murmur something about ‘adjusting’ and ‘needing time.’ They waltz into the kitchen, leaving me standing alone in the unfamiliar space that’s meant to be my home for the summer.

I escape upstairs and find my room easily.

It’s simple but beautiful—a queen bed with a navy comforter, furniture that matches the cabin, and a window seat that overlooks the lake.

My suitcase sits at the foot of the bed, and I notice small touches that seem deliberate: fresh wildflowers in a Mason jar, new curtains that match the bedding, and a bookshelf stocked with classic books.

Did he do this? For me?

The sound of an engine roars to life outside, and I go to the window.

Colt is back working on his motorcycle, straddling it now, revving the engine with practiced competence.

The way he sits, the control he exhibits among the casual danger of it all—it goes right through me.

My body reacts instantly, causing me to press my tingling thighs together.

No. No this cannot be happening. He’s my stepbrother!

Without lights everywhere, night falls faster here than in the city. By the time we sit down for dinner, the world outside is a velvety purple-black, punctuated only by the moon’s silvery reflection on the lake.

Colt’s changed into jeans and a black Henley that does nothing to hide his muscles underneath—muscles I should not be noticing like I am. He sits across from me but never once lets our eyes meet for more than a second.

Mom and Jim carry the conversation, still lost in each other despite the presence of their kids. They touch constantly—his hand on hers, her fingers on his thigh, casual intimacies that make the house feel smaller and suffocating.

“So, Lily,” Jim says in an attempt to include me, “Colt’s going to be here all summer. Maybe he can teach you to row, or—”

“I can row,” I say at the exact same time that Colt says, “I’m busy.”

A silence drops over the table.

“Well, then!” Mom laughs, trying to salvage the moment. “I’m sure you two will find something to do together.”

Colt finally levels his gaze at me, and the look in his eyes is so intense, so filled with something I can’t name, that I have to look away. My cheeks burn, and I excuse myself early, claiming to be exhausted by the drive.

I pace around my room, restless energy coursing through me, my thighs tickling and my body on fire. It’s just too quiet out here—too still. I’m hyperaware of every little sound, every little creak that might be Colt’s footsteps across the hall.

I change into my sleep shorts and a tank top, trying to ignore how hypersensitive the mountain air has made my skin. Every single brush of fabric is a reminder of my body’s betrayal.

Unable to stand it any longer, I creep to the window and peer out. The moon is full, turning the lake into liquid silver. And there, pumping through the water with his enormous arms, is Colt.

He swims with controlled, purposeful power—just like everything he does. I watch as he reaches the other side then turns and swims back. When he reaches the dock, he pulls himself up in a single fluid motion. Water streams down his body, taking my breath away.

His chest is massive, and his abs are shredded.

His arms look like a boxer’s, and he even has those V-lines leading down into the tiny pair of swim trunks he’s wearing—so small they might as well not even be there.

His legs are massive, and as he turns to grab his towel, I see his butt, sculpted like a statue by Michelangelo.

He stands there for a moment, head tilted back to the sky, drawing deep breaths. And then, as if he can feel my gaze, he looks straight up at my window.

Directly at me.

We stare at each other across the distance, and even from here, I can see his chest rising and falling, the tension in his shoulders, and the way his forearms flex as he wrings the moisture from his towel.

My heart is racing in my chest. I’m talking heart attack level.

Then he turns and walks back toward the house, eyes ahead of him like he never even saw me. And it’s at that moment that I know with absolute certainty that this summer is going to destroy me.

And I might just let it.