My first mistake was opening the door.
The second? Not closing it when I saw what she was wearing.
"Hey, stepbro," she purred, leaning against the frame like it was her personal runway. "Mind if I come in?"
It was midnight. My lights were off. I was half-asleep and completely shirtless. But she stood there—barefoot, hair slightly messy, wearing a silk camisole that barely reached her thighs. No bra. No shame.
And a smile that promised trouble.
"You, uh… need something?" I asked, swallowing hard.
She tilted her head. "Mmhm. I couldn't sleep. Thought maybe you could help…"
She stepped in before I could answer, her scent wrapping around me—warm, sweet, a little dangerous. Like vanilla soaked in sin.
I backed up until my legs hit the bed. She didn't stop until she was standing right in front of me, close enough that her breath touched my neck.
"You're sweating," she whispered, dragging a finger lightly down my chest. "Are you nervous, stepbro?"
Yes. God, yes.
But I couldn't move. Couldn't speak. Couldn't stop staring at the way her nipples pressed through the thin fabric or the way her lips curved into a devilish grin every time she caught me looking.
Then she leaned closer—so close her lips brushed my ear—and whispered:
"You smell delicious tonight."
I shivered.
And then—just like that—she pulled away, turned toward the door, and walked out, leaving a trail of temptation and confusion in her wake.
"Goodnight, stepbro," she called sweetly over her shoulder. "Try not to dream too loud…"
I stared at the door for a full minute after it clicked shut.
And for the first time since moving in with my new family, I realized something was seriously off.
Because she'd shown up already licking her lips... before she even knew I was awake.