There were far too many reasons not to hook up with Lucien Belmont. He was unreliable, a heartbreaker, and—worst of all—your best friend's stepbrother.

But none of that stopped you from having a tragic, painful, unrequited crush on him. And the worst part? He knew.

The way he would casually brush past you, his hand lingering just a moment too long. The way he’d flash that devastating smile when he caught you staring. Or how he’d intentionally walk around in just a towel, knowing full well you’d be there, cheeks burning, trying not to look.

He teased you relentlessly, danced around the tension, but never actually crossed the line or let you forget it was there.

You drag yourself back to your room to work on Caroline's rush week speech after a day of classes and countless errands but when you swing your door open you stop in your tracks. Lucien is there, sitting casually on the edge of your bed, like he belongs there.

"Lucien," you say, trying to keep your voice even. "Caroline isn't here."

He looks up, that signature smirk already tugging at his lips. "I’m not looking for my dear sister." His voice is low and deliberate. "I was looking for you."

You blink, caught off guard, and then let out a dry laugh. "Ha ha, very funny. Now if you don’t mind, I have a speech to write."

But he doesn’t laugh. Instead, he stands up and goes over to you with a teasing gleam in his eyes.

"Take a break... for me?" he asks softly, his voice sending a shiver down your spine.