Adrian’s POV

I shouldn’t have gone back.

I knew it the moment my car turned onto her street, long before I stepped out, long before I felt my pulse pick up at the thought of seeing her again.

But wanting her had become a kind of ache—quiet, constant, impossible to outrun.

Ethan wasn’t home. His absence should have made it easier to walk away. Instead, it made everything harder. My wolf prowled under my skin, restless and alert, sensing the danger I refused to acknowledge.

Don’t go in.

You’ll lose everything.

I ignored the warning and knocked anyway.

Sienna opened the door almost instantly—as if she had been waiting. Barefoot, relaxed, eyes soft in a way that made my resolve fracture.

“Adrian?” she asked quietly. “Is everything okay?”

“Yeah,” I said. Controlled. Neutral.

Lie.

She studied my face with that unsettling accuracy that always left me exposed. “You don’t have to pretend with me,” she murmured.

The words hit harder than they should have. I swallowed the truth, offering her the safer version instead.

“I just… wanted to see you.”

Her lips curved, small but real. “I’m glad you did.”

The air shifted—charged, intimate, dangerous. My wolf surged at the sound of her voice, testing the leash I tightened around him.

She stepped back to let me in, brushing past me—warmth and scent and softness, all at once. It shook me more than it should have.

Inside, she moved around the kitchen with effortless familiarity, humming under her breath. I hated how easily my attention locked onto her, how her smallest gestures had become temptations.

“You’re tense tonight,” she said, glancing over her shoulder. “You don’t have to hide that from me.”

I exhaled slowly. “I’m trying.”

She turned fully, leaning against the counter, her expression open and terrifyingly sincere. “You always carry everything alone. Maybe you don’t have to.”

My jaw tightened. She didn’t know what she was asking—what it meant for someone like me to let go. What it would cost her if I did.

But she watched me like she could see the storm inside me anyway.

“You’ve been distant,” she said softly. “Not just today. For a while.”

I looked away before she could read too much. “I’ve had a lot on my mind.”

“Adrian.” Her voice lowered, threading into the cracks of my restraint. “I know when you’re lying.”

She always did.

My wolf growled at the pressure, wanting her close, wanting her warmth, wanting everything I had spent years denying myself. The danger wasn’t her innocence or Ethan’s protectiveness.

The danger was me.

“You see too much,” I muttered.

“Maybe you don’t show enough,” she replied.

That… hit deeper than I wanted it to.

She turned back to the counter, reaching for a glass, but her next words were quiet—intentional.

“You don’t have to be afraid of me.”

I froze.

Not of her.

Of what I might become around her.

“Sienna,” I said, voice low. “You really don’t know what you’re inviting.”

She looked back at me—soft gaze, steady breath, full awareness in the way she held my eyes.

“Maybe I do,” she whispered.

And that was the moment my control cracked.

Because she wasn’t naïve. She wasn’t blind. She wasn’t misreading the tension between us.

She was acknowledging it.

Inviting it.

Testing the line I had sworn never to cross.

My wolf pressed hard against my chest, hungry for the one thing I refused to claim.

One second. One breath. One slip.

That was all it would take to ruin everything.

And yet…

The longer I stood there—the closer she came—the more certain I became of one terrifying truth:

I wasn’t going to be able to stay away.

Not tonight.

Not anymore.

Some desires don’t wait for permission.

And mine had already chosen her.

The room felt smaller.

Too warm.

Too thick with everything we weren’t supposed to feel.

Sienna set the glass down and turned toward me again. Not close enough to touch, but close enough that my wolf leaned forward anyway, sensing her attention like a pull.

“Why do you keep looking at me like that?” she asked softly.

My pulse kicked hard. “Like what?”

“Like you’re holding your breath.”

A faint smile. Curious. Brave.

“Like you’re fighting something.”

I looked away because if I didn’t, I’d give too much away. “I’m not fighting anything.”

“Adrian…” she stepped closer, and the sound of her bare feet on the floor felt louder than it should. “You’re always fighting something.”

My control wavered—just slightly, just enough.

She noticed.

Her voice softened. “You can tell me what’s wrong.”

“You wouldn’t understand.”

“Try me.”

Her insistence wasn’t forceful.

It was gentle.

Dangerously gentle.

That was what made it impossible to resist.

“I shouldn’t be here,” I said, the truth slipping out before I could catch it.

Her brows pulled together. “Why not?”

Because you’re my best friend’s sister.

Because I promised myself I’d protect you, not want you.

Because if I touch you, I won’t be able to stop.

Instead, I said quietly, “It’s complicated.”

“It’s only complicated if you make it complicated.”

I let out a humorless breath. “You have no idea.”

She stepped closer again—one step, then another—until her scent wrapped around me, warm and sweet and intoxicating. My wolf pushed hard against the edges of my control, desperate, hungry, certain.

I forced myself still.

“Sienna,” I warned.

She didn’t stop.

“You keep saying I don’t understand,” she whispered, “but you never give me the chance to.”

Her eyes lifted to mine—steady, open, unafraid.

“Let me in.”

My heartbeat thundered.

My wolf snarled.

My restraint burned.

“You’re playing with fire,” I said, my voice barely above a growl.

“Maybe I’m not afraid of the fire.”

Something in me snapped.

Not enough to cross the line.

Not enough to take what I wanted.

But enough to reach out—just once—and brush a strand of hair from her face.

The moment my fingers touched her skin, everything inside me locked.

Her breath caught.

Mine stopped entirely.

Her cheek warmed beneath my touch, soft, fragile, perfect—and every instinct I had roared to life.

I jerked my hand back, chest heaving.

She blinked, startled, breath shaking. “Adrian…”

“I can’t,” I said, voice rough. “I can’t let this go any further.”

“Why?” Her voice cracked, just barely. “Because of Ethan?”

Yes.

Because of Ethan.

Because of the promise.

Because of the consequences.

Because she was the one thing I wasn’t supposed to want.

But the truth was uglier.

“Because I don’t trust myself around you.”

Silence.

Then—

She stepped forward anyway.

“Maybe,” she whispered, “you don’t have to.”

My wolf lunged inside me—raw, certain, claiming.

“Sienna, don’t—”

She lifted her hand.

Barely.

A small gesture.

A soft touch meant for my chest.

But before she reached me—

The front door clicked.

We both froze.

Ethan’s voice drifted in from the entryway.

“Hello? Anyone home?”

Sienna’s eyes widened.

My heart slammed.

My wolf growled in frustration, rage, possession.

I took a shaky step back.

She mirrored me, breath unsteady.

We were both trembling—not from guilt, but from what almost happened.

What still wanted to happen.

She swallowed hard. “Adrian…”

I shook my head once, barely.

Silently telling her:

Not now. Not here. Not with him right outside.

Footsteps approached.

The line we weren’t supposed to cross tightened between us—thin, stretched, ready to break with the slightest pull.

Ethan’s shadow moved down the hallway.

I backed further into the kitchen, pulse still wild.

Sienna did the same, her eyes on me like she could still feel my touch on her skin.

And for a terrifying, electrifying moment, I realized:

We weren’t going to stop this.

Not next time.

Not when the door wasn’t swinging open.

Not when nobody was around to save us from ourselves.

Because the line I had sworn never to cross?

We were inches from stepping over it.