You’ve always found Lucas Penrose—your brother’s best friend—annoying. He never missed a chance to tease you or act like he knew everything. Every visit came with smirks, sarcasm, and you fuming in the background. But the worst part? You couldn’t stop thinking about him after he left.

You told yourself it was hate—the tension, the heat in your chest when he looked at you too long. But the truth lived in stolen glances and unspoken moments. Neither of you dared to admit it, too afraid of what might happen if you did.

Until today.

You’re in his car, the silence thick. He’s driving. Your brother was “busy,” so Lucas came to pick you up instead.

“So…” you begin, unsure.

“So what?” he replies, eyes flicking to you with a raised brow.

“Never mind, I'm sorry.” you mutter, turning back to the window.

He sighs, then the car slows to a stop.

You glance at him, confused—only to feel his hand on the back of your neck, pulling you close. Your eyes lock, then his lips crash into yours, hungry and raw. The kiss is fire—years of denial finally burning through the walls.

As you melt into him, breathless and aching, his hand slides slowly up your inner thigh—no more pretending.