Zara’s POV

I didn’t expect it to happen again. Not that soon. Not when my body still ached from the first time. Not when we were still tangled in the remnants of a storm and all the rules we shattered hours ago.

But it did.

God, it did.

We lay on the couch for a while after the kitchen—his chest rising and falling under my cheek, his fingers lazily tracing the dip of my spine. The candles were still flickering, casting our bodies in gold. Everything felt surreal, like we were caught in a dream neither of us wanted to wake up from.

“I should go to bed,” I whispered, even though I didn’t move.

His fingers stilled. “Then go.”

I lifted my head to look at him. “Alone?”

His gaze locked with mine. Something flickered in his eyes again. Hunger. Possession.

“No,” he said.

Then he stood, took my hand, and led me upstairs.

No teasing this time.

No games.

Just heat—coiled tight and waiting to snap.

He closed the door behind us with a soft click, but his mouth was already on mine before the echo faded. My back hit the wall. His hands slid under my thighs and lifted me like I weighed nothing, lips trailing fire along my jaw and down my throat.

I moaned his name as he pressed against me, already hard again.

“I thought we were done,” I breathed, tugging his hair.

“We’re not even close.”

He carried me to the bed, dropping me onto the mattress like a man who’d waited too long. My shirt was gone in seconds. His sweatpants followed. Skin to skin, again. But it wasn’t rushed this time—it was deeper. Slower. Every movement was deliberate, like he was learning me with his hands.

He kissed down my belly. Took his time.

When his mouth reached where I was aching for him most, I gasped, fingers gripping the sheets. He held me down gently, lips working magic that made me cry out, legs trembling.

I came hard once, then again when he slid inside me, thick and deep and steady. His thrusts were unhurried, controlled, like he wanted me to feel every inch of him. Like he needed me to remember it.

My hands cupped his face. “Look at me.”

His eyes snapped to mine, blown dark with lust. And something else. Something almost tender.

“This isn’t just sex, is it?” I whispered.

He shook his head and kissed me like an answer.

We moved together in sync, hips grinding, bodies clinging, the aftershock of everything we’d ignored for years pulsing between us.

I came again with his name on my lips. He followed with a groan that sounded like surrender.

Afterward, we lay there, breathless, silent, tangled together in the dark.

Not just because we didn’t know what to say—

But because nothing needed to be said.

Not yet.

Not with his heartbeat steady against my back

And morning is still hours away.

But then I never fell asleep.

Not because I couldn’t—but because I didn’t want to.

Caleb’s arms were wrapped around me the whole night, skin warm against mine, his breath steady at the back of my neck. We barely spoke. We didn’t need to. We’d already said everything with our mouths, hands, and bodies.

Touch after touch. Kiss after kiss. Whispers in the dark. Moans that melted into the sound of rain against the window.

I didn’t want the night to end.

But it did.

The first hint of sunrise painted soft orange across his bedroom ceiling. The storm was finally over, but the silence it left behind was heavier.

I shifted, slowly pulling the blanket up over my bare chest. Caleb stirred behind me, hand sliding across my waist like muscle memory. I sat up anyway, knees pulled to my chest, the sheet now wrapped around me like armor.

My heart thudded.

What now?

Was it just a storm thing? A trapped-under-one-roof-and-horny kind of mistake?

I stared at the floor for a long second, then asked the question I’d been dreading since the moment we crossed that line.

“So…” I whispered. “Do we pretend it never happened?”

The silence that followed made me nauseous.

But then I heard the creak of the mattress, the sound of footsteps. Caleb walked around the bed, crouched in front of me, and placed one hand on my knee.

His voice was low, a little rough. “No.”

I finally looked at him.

He looked calm, like something had settled inside him.

“I’ve wanted you since you walked through that door,” he said. “But I told myself it was wrong. That you’d never feel the same, I didn’t think you’d ever want me back.”

My throat tightened.

His hand slid up to my face, thumb brushing my cheek. “I’m not pretending. Not with you.”

And just like that, the fear in my chest cracked open and melted.

I leaned forward and kissed him—soft, slow, lips lingering like they finally knew where they belonged. This kiss wasn’t desperate like the night before. It was sure. Real.

He smiled against my mouth.

Then…

Click.

The unmistakable sound of the front door unlocking.

We froze.

I blinked. “No. No, no—”

The door creaked open downstairs.

“Zara?” my mom’s voice called. We’re home! The storm was awful—the roads were flooded! Is Caleb around?”

My heart nearly shot out of my chest. I looked at him, wild-eyed. “Shit.”

He chuckled. The jerk actually chuckled.

“What do we do?” I whispered.

He stepped back, grabbing his shirt from the floor and tossing me mine with a wink. “Act normal?”

I pulled the sheet tighter around me. “You call this normal?!”

Footsteps came up the stairs.

I panicked, ran to the closet, and flung the door open in case I needed to dive in. Caleb was entirely too calm, tugging his shirt over his abs like he hadn’t just spent the night sinning with his stepsister.

The hallway floor creaked.

I scrambled into my clothes, heart pounding, and then—

He reached for me, tugged me back against his chest, and murmured against my ear, “You know… secrets make things hotter.”

I laughed, breathless, a little insane. “You’re crazy.”

He smirked, eyes gleaming. “Then let’s keep it our secret… for now.”