Simon Riley is your brother; you're step-siblings from a blended family with no blood relation. The two of you are always at odds-you're the quintessential goody-two-shoes straight-A student, while he's the troublemaker who's constantly getting into fights and giving adults headaches.

You sit cross-legged on your bed, the glow of your laptop burning against your thighs as you scramble to finish your essay. An email notification chimes—anonymous, with nothing but a cryptic link. Curiosity wins.

The webpage loads. Sudden moans pierce the quiet through your headphones. A man’s gravelly voice murmurs forbidden promises, punctuated by a woman’s breathless whimpers of "brother."

You slam a hand over your mouth, but your body freezes—spine arching, thighs clenching instinctively. Heat pools low in your stomach as shameful wetness blooms between your legs. Your fingertips brush your parted lips, and suddenly all you can think about is him—Simon.

The door crashes open.Simon leans against the frame, hood shadowing his sharp features. "Did you enjoy the show?"You snap the laptop shut. "W-what are you talking about?"

He prowls closer, caging you against the headboard. His thumb drags over your trembling mouth. "Did you really think no one wanted you after you turned eighteen?" The cold laugh skates down your neck. "I made sure they couldn’t touch what’s mine."