The Stepdad and Uncle's Asleep Obsession

1. Kieran

Kieran

The morning light spills through the arched windows of the living room, painting the hardwood floors in golden stripes that shift with every passing cloud. I pause at the bottom of the staircase, and the sound of laughter pulls me forward before I even realize I've moved.

My stepdaughter, Kelsey, is curled into the corner of the sofa like a cat, one bare foot tucked beneath her while the other dangles just above the floor. The hem of her oversized sweater rides up her thigh, exposing a sliver of smooth skin that I force myself to look away.

Beside her is my adopted brother, Kyler, his arm stretched along the back of the cushion, his fingers brushing the ends of her curls without either of them seeming to notice.

They're hunched over her phone, their heads close enough that his beard nearly grazes her temple when he leans in to see whatever's on the screen.

A sharp pang lances through my chest, hot and unwelcome.

I pivot on my heel, the hardwood groaning faintly beneath my weight as I turn toward the kitchen. The scent of coffee lingers in the air, bitter and grounding, but it does nothing to drown out the way my pulse thrums in my throat. My jaw tightens, teeth grinding just enough to feel the pressure.

This isn't how it's supposed to be. She's not supposed to be the first thing I notice when I walk into a room.

Yet here I am, my gaze snapping back to her like a compass needle drawn north.

Back to Kelsey Mitchell.

Her five-foot-two frame looks smaller beside my huge brother. She's a pocket of warmth and light against the leather. Her sparkling cornflower blue eyes, bright and unguarded, flicker with amusement as she leans into Kyler's side, her rich cognac brown curls spilling over her shoulder like silk.

She doesn't even realize how stunning she is, how she carries herself… unassuming and effortless, making every man in the room want to be the one she notices.

And that's the problem. Because I notice. I notice the way her lips part when she laughs, the way her throat works when she swallows, the way her fingers tap restlessly against her knee when she's thinking.

My fingers flex at my sides, the callouses on my palms itching with the memory of how soft her skin felt the one time I let myself brush against her… accidental, but the shock of it still lingers.

She's oblivious to her own allure, and that makes her even more dangerous. Because if she knew, if she ever looked at me the way she looks at him, curious, unafraid, there wouldn't be a damn thing I could do to stop myself from taking what I want.

And that's a line I can't cross. No matter how much it burns.

It's been months since she came home from college, since her mother accepted a long-term overseas position running her company's European division and left her here with us.

I told myself it would be fine. That I could handle having her under my roof without letting it change anything. That I wouldn't let myself want what I can't have.

Because she's my stepdaughter.

But what about Kyler?

I didn't expect him to become the person closest to her… especially with their age gap.

Their laughter bubbles up again, bright and easy, and I force my feet to move, crossing the threshold into the living room.

I keep my expression neutral, my shoulders loose, my hands steady as I step into the room.

Because Kyler's too damn perceptive. If I let even a flicker of irritation show, he'll keep needling me about it, just to watch me squirm.

Kelsey looks up first, her cornflower blue eyes lighting up. "Hey, Kieran."

The way she says my name, soft and familiar, sends a jolt straight through me. "Hey."

Her smile widens, and damn if it doesn't make my chest ache. She's too young, too bright, too everything I don't deserve.

Kyler glances over his shoulder, his eyes sharp with amusement. "What took you so long? I notice you've been staring since you got down."

"I'm observing."

Kelsey bites back a smile, her teeth sinking into her full bottom lip. "That's a weird way to put it."

I flick my gaze to the phone in her hand. "What are you two laughing at?"

She lifts it, the screen tilted away from me. "I'm showing him pictures from my last trip."

I hold out my hand. "Let me see."

She immediately pulls the phone against her chest, her fingers curling around it like a shield. "No."

I raise an eyebrow. "That's suspicious."

"It's private."

"You're showing it to him."

"But he won't judge me."

"I won't either."

She laughs, the sound warm and teasing. "I doubt it."

I shake my head, but I can't stop the small smile tugging at my mouth. "You've gotten mouthier lately."

"You've gotten bossier."

Kyler chuckles beside her, the sound low and knowing, and I shoot him a glance before looking back at Kelsey. "Have you eaten?"

She makes a face, her nose scrunching up in that way that makes her look even younger. "Yes."

"What did you eat?"

"Food."

"Kelsey."

She grins, unrepentant. "That's a perfectly acceptable answer."

I stare at her for a long moment, my jaw tightening. "You're stubborn."

Kyler laughs, the bastard. "You say that like it's news."

She grimaces at us, her cheeks flushing pink, and I shake my head before moving toward the sofa. I stop behind it, my fingers brushing the soft fabric of the blanket she must've accidentally dropped onto the floor.

I pick it up, the weight of it familiar in my hands, and when I lean down to drape it over the back of the couch, my knuckles graze her shoulder.

She looks up at me, her eyes wide and curious, and I give her shoulder a light squeeze before stepping back. Just enough contact to remind her I'm here. Just enough to make my pulse kick up a notch.

Kyler watches us, his expression unreadable, but there's nothing in my behavior worth questioning. I'm just doing what I've been doing since she came home… making sure she's eating, sleeping, pretending everything is normal.

Still, when I glance at him again, I catch him smiling.

"What?"

"Nothing."

"Then stop smiling."

He laughs, and Kelsey looks between us, her eyebrows lifting. "Aren't you two too old to be fighting?"

Kyler shakes his head, his grin widening. "He is. He's forty-three."

"You're just three years younger than me," I say, my voice dry.

"I'm twenty-one, but I don't act this way," she teases, her voice light, but there's a challenge in her eyes that makes my blood heat.

"Just show me the pictures," I say, my tone leaving no room for argument.

"Since you insist."

Kelsey opens her phone, scrolling through the photos with a flick of her thumb. There's a shot of her in a bikini, the turquoise fabric clinging to her curves, and my stomach twists.

The idea of her out in public like that.., of other men seeing her, wanting her sends a surge of possessiveness roaring through me. I grimace before I can stop myself.

She catches my expression, her eyes narrowing. "What?"

I shake my head. "Nothing."

She laughs under her breath, the sound knowing, and returns to her phone. "That's what I thought."

Good.

As long as she's smiling, I'm satisfied.

But the truth is, I'm not. Not even close. Because every time she laughs without me, every time she looks at me like that, I feel the ground shifting beneath my feet.

And I don't know how to stop it.

* * *

The bedroom door clicks shut behind me, and the scent of cedar and leather hits me like a punch to the gut. But something unusual on my bed roots me to the spot.

It's the instant film, stark against the charcoal duvet, its glossy edges catching the dim light from the bedside lamp.

What the hell?

I come closer, and Kelsey's face stares up at me, her cornflower blue eyes wide and unguarded, lips parted just enough to make my pulse kick.

The frame cuts off at her collarbone, but the curve of her shoulder is enough to send heat licking down my spine.

My fingers twitch at my sides before I even realize I'm reaching for it.

There's a handwritten note beneath the photo:

Kieran, you have my permission…

My jaw locks. Permission for what? My thumb brushes the edge of the film, the paper cool and slick under my callouses.

I flip it over, half-expecting more words, some kind of explanation, but the back is blank. Just the faint imprint of her fingers where she must've held it too tight.

The silence in the room presses in, thick and suffocating. I exhale through my nose, the sound sharp, and my gaze snaps to the bedroom door like it's suddenly the only thing standing between me and answers.

And the best way to get them is to ask her.

My shoes hit the hardwood with purpose, each step a low, rhythmic thud that matches the hammering in my chest. The hallway stretches too long, the dim sconces casting shadows that twist like they're trying to hold me back. I don't slow down.

Kelsey's door looms at the end of the hall, slightly ajar. The soft glow of her lamp spills through the crack, and the scent of her hits me before I even push it open.

I need to know what the hell she's playing at.

The door creaks as I nudge it open, the sound swallowed by the thick silence of her room. Kelsey's curled on her side, one arm tucked under her pillow, the other limp against the mattress. The beige camisole clings to her like a second skin, the thin straps barely holding the fabric in place.

My throat goes dry.

Then I see it.

Another instant film, propped against the lamp on her nightstand. This one's a full shot of her body sprawled across the bed, the camisole riding up just enough to tease the curve of her hip. My fingers flex at my sides, the urge to snatch it up warring with the part of me that knows I shouldn't.

There's also a note underneath:

…to touch me even when I'm asleep.

The words hit like a punch to the gut. My pulse roars in my ears, hot and insistent.

She wanted this. For me to come here. The realization coils tight in my chest, a mix of hunger and something darker, something that tastes like guilt.

I shouldn't.

She's my stepdaughter.

But I don't leave.

Instead, my gaze drags back to her, to the slow rise and fall of her chest, the way her lips part slightly with every breath. She's out cold, lost in whatever dream's got her so deep. My shoes don't make a sound as I step closer, the floorboards cool under my weight.

The bed dips as I sit, the mattress groaning softly. Kelsey doesn't stir. Her skin glows in the lamplight, warm and golden, and the scent of her wraps around me like a damn vice.

My hand hovers over her hip, close enough to feel the heat radiating off her. Her words are still burning in my mind.

Permission.

She gave it. But isn't this wrong?

Then she shifts.

A soft sigh escapes her lips, and the movement tugs the camisole higher, the fabric bunching just beneath the swell of her breasts.

My breath catches. The straps have slipped down her arms, the neckline gaping just enough to reveal the curve of one pale, perfect tit.

The nipple pebbles in the cool air, a tight, rosy peak begging for my mouth.

My hand moves before I can stop it, fingers brushing the soft underside of her breast. She doesn't wake, but her body responds, her back arches slightly, pressing into my touch. A low sound rumbles in my chest, something between a growl and a groan.

I cup her, the weight of her breast heavy and warm in my palm. My thumb drags over the tight peak, and her nipple hardens further, the areola puckering beneath my touch. A shudder runs through her, her lips parting on a silent gasp.

Fuck.

I lean down, my breath hot against her skin before my tongue flicks out, teasing the stiff peak. My cock throbs against my zipper, painfully hard, but I ignore it.

This isn't about me.

My mouth closes over her nipple, sucking gently at first, then harder as her body responds. A soft whimper escapes her, her fingers twitching against the sheets. I pull back just enough to blow a cool stream of air over the wet peak, watching as it tightens even more.

"Mmm," She moans, her eyes still closed. Her back arches again, pressing her breast deeper into my mouth.

I switch to the other side, my hand sliding beneath her to lift her, my fingers digging into the soft flesh of her back. She whimpers, a low, needy sound that goes straight to my dick.

My free hand slides down her stomach, fingers tracing the waistband of her panties before slipping beneath the lace. She's already wet, her arousal slick against my fingers as I tease her slit. A shudder runs through her, her hips lifting slightly, seeking more.

I push two fingers inside her, curling them just right, and her body clenches around me. Her breath hitches, her back arching off the bed as I pump my fingers in and out, my thumb pressing against her clit. Her moans grow louder, her hips rocking in time with my movements.

"That's it," I murmur against her breast, my voice rough. "Come for me."

Her body tenses, her walls fluttering around my fingers as she shatters, a cry tearing from her lips. I don't stop, my fingers working her through the orgasm, drawing it out until she's trembling beneath me.

I pull my fingers free, bringing them to my mouth to taste her. Sweet. Addictive.

I lower my head between her thighs, and I'm about to ravish her when the door creaks open.

Kyler stands in the doorway, his eyes darkening as they lock onto the scene before him. His jaw tightens, his gaze flicking from Kelsey's state to my hand still cupping her breast.

"What the fuck, Kieran?"