Off Limits: My Brother's Best Friend

The rest of that afternoon passed in a haze of stolen looks and racing heartbeats.I helped Mom in the kitchen, chopping vegetables with far more force than necessary while my mind replayed Damien’s low murmur over and over.Every time the screen door creaked, I tensed, half expecting him to walk in. He never did. Marcus kept him outside, the two of them laughing about some college story I couldn’t quite hear. Their voices carried on the breeze like a constant reminder of the line I was dangerously close to crossing.By evening, the family had gathered on the back deck for grilled fish and cold drinks. Fairy lights twinkled overhead, and the ocean provided a steady, soothing soundtrack. I chose the seat farthest from Damien, tucking myself into the corner with my plate balanced on my knees.It didn’t matter. He still found ways to pull my attention.Marcus was telling a loud story about their latest adventures, something involving a broken-down car and a very angry farmer, when Damien

The next morning, sunlight poured through the curtains like nothing had changed.But everything had.I woke with the ghost of Damien’s kiss still tingling on my lips and a nervous flutter in my stomach that made it impossible to eat breakfast. Mom kept asking if I felt okay. Marcus teased me for being “spacey.” I just smiled weakly and pushed my eggs around the plate, hyper-aware of Damien sitting across the table, calmly drinking coffee like he hadn’t turned my world upside down the night before.Our eyes met once. Just once.His gaze was dark, intense, and full of warning. *Act normal.*I looked away first, cheeks burning.The day dragged on with forced normalcy, beach walks, swimming, Marcus dragging Damien out for a surf session while I stayed under the umbrella with my book. Every laugh from the water made my chest tighten. Every time Damien emerged from the waves, water streaming down his chest and abs, I had to force myself to look somewhere else.By late afternoon, the tension

The final days of the beach house vacation felt like borrowed time. Every stolen moment with Damien was sweeter and more dangerous than the last. We became experts at pretending, laughing easily with Marcus during the day, then disappearing into shadows at night. A quick kiss in the pantry while Marcus showered. His hand sliding up my thigh under the dinner table. A whispered “I need you” against my ear when no one was looking. But the closer we got, the harder it became to hide the fire between us. On our last full night, the house was restless. Marcus had invited a couple of local friends over for a bonfire and drinks. Music played low from a portable speaker, laughter floated on the breeze, and the scent of grilled marshmallows mixed with saltwater air. I stayed on the edge of the group, nursing a soda, my eyes constantly finding Damien across the fire. He leaned against a log, talking casually with Marcus, but his gaze kept drifting to me, dark, hungry, full of promises. Whe

Sunlight filtered through the thin curtains, painting the room in soft gold. I woke slowly, my body deliciously sore in ways I had only read about. Damien’s arm was draped heavily over my waist, his warm chest pressed to my back, breath steady against my neck. For a moment, I let myself enjoy it, the solid weight of him, the scent of salt and sex still clinging to our skin. Then reality hit. Marcus was just down the hall. I tensed, heart kicking into a frantic rhythm. Damien stirred behind me, his hand tightening possessively on my hip before he pressed a slow, open-mouthed kiss to my shoulder. “Morning, baby,” he murmured, voice gravelly with sleep and satisfaction. “We can’t stay like this,” I whispered, even as I arched slightly into his touch. “Marcus could wake up any second.” Damien hummed, clearly in no hurry. His fingers traced lazy circles on my bare stomach, dipping lower until they brushed the sensitive skin between my thighs. I bit back a gasp. “One more minute,”

The rain fell in heavy sheets against the window of Damien’s apartment, creating a rhythmic backdrop that almost drowned out the sound of their ragged breathing. Elena lay curled against his chest, her body still humming from the intensity of the past hour. Sweat cooled on their skin, and the sheets were tangled around their legs like evidence of their crime. She traced slow, lazy circles over the hard ridges of his abdomen, feeling every rise and fall of his breath. In these quiet moments after passion, the world outside felt far away, Marcus’s watchful eyes, her parents’ expectations, the constant fear of being caught. Here, in the dim glow of the bedside lamp, it was just the two of them. But even in the afterglow, Elena’s mind refused to stay silent. “You’re quiet tonight,” Damien murmured, his deep voice rough with lingering desire. His large hand stroked up and down the bare curve of her back in long, possessive sweeps, as if he could hold her there forever if he tried hard