Caught in the act 1
Sasha came home around lunchtime, exhausted after staying up with her best friend, Anna. She rarely took days off work, but today her heavy eyelids and foggy mind made the idea of sitting in a silent library unbearable. A nap sounded like heaven.
The driveway was half-empty—two of the usual trucks gone. That small detail made her smile. Quiet in this house was rare, and she planned to sink into it.
She climbed the stairs, toes sinking into the carpet, only to freeze at the faint sound drifting down the hallway. Muffled. Low. Someone was home.
She was ready to slip unnoticed into her room, but then—she heard it again. Her name.
Sasha frowned. Maybe Luke needed help. She dropped her overnight bag just inside her door and moved carefully down the hall. His door was the only one closed. She raised a hand to knock. And then—
“Sasha…”
Her name. This time she was sure. Concern prickled through the fatigue, and without another thought, she pushed the door open.
The sight slammed into her like a fist to the chest.
Luke—her stepbrother, the responsible one, the serious one—was standing half-naked, pants slung dangerously low around his hips, one hand braced against the wall while the other slowly stroked the thick, heavy length of his cock. His head was tipped back, lips parted, breaths rough and low. He looked nothing like the man who rolled his eyes when she left dishes in the sink.
For one wild, breathless second, Sasha couldn’t move. Her gaze swept shamelessly from the hard lines of his chest to the hungry grip of his hand. Heat punched through her body, a dizzy rush between her thighs.
Then his eyes flew open. “Sasha!”
She screamed, startled by his shout, and slammed the door shut as if it could erase what she’d just seen. “I’m so sorry!” she blurted, running down the stairs.
In the kitchen, she shoved her head into the freezer, desperate to cool the blush burning her cheeks. Oh my God. Her pulse refused to settle. Why is his cock so big?
The strawberries in the freezer became her temporary shield. She pressed the cold bag to her flushed face, willing herself to forget the sound of her name spilling from his mouth in that low, desperate way.
Footsteps approached—slow, heavy, deliberate. Luke.
“I’m so sorry,” she rushed out, still hiding behind frozen fruit. “I thought you were sick. I heard you call my name and just—walked in. I swear I wasn’t trying to… I’m sorry.”
His voice was rough when he answered. “No. I’m sorry. I don’t— Normally, I—fuck. This is embarrassing.”
She peeked over the strawberries. His bare chest was on full display, golden skin stretched over hard muscle, a sheen of heat still clinging to him. Her breath caught.
“Don’t be embarrassed,” she whispered.
“Embarrassed?” He huffed out a humorless laugh, opening a box of pasta just to have something to do with his hands. “I was calling your name while jerking off. That’s not exactly a proud moment.”
Her heart stuttered. Calling her name.
Luke turned, his piercing blue eyes locking on her like a weight. His mouth was set, jaw clenched. “Fuck. I should go.”
“No!” The word came out too fast. She took a step toward him. “You don’t have to go. I’m not— I’m not uncomfortable.”
He stared at her hard. “You screamed and ran away.”
“I was shocked,” she said, laughing nervously into her palm. “Not traumatized.”
“Are you laughing?” he demanded, hands going to his hips.
She bit her lip, fighting it, but she was. The giggle bubbled out, born from nerves, heat, and the memory of him saying her name like a prayer.
Luke shook his head, a soft curse slipping from his lips.
Sasha swallowed and then asked the question she shouldn’t. “What were you thinking about?”
The air changed. The laughter melted into something thicker. He stilled, turning toward her slowly, his muscles shifting beneath his skin like a warning.
“Do you actually want to know?” His voice was low now. Dangerous.
She nodded, stepping closer until the edge of the counter pressed against her back.
His breath deepened. His shoulders filled the kitchen, and the hunger in his gaze made her stomach tighten. “I should keep my mouth shut so you can still look me in the eye tomorrow.”
“I want to know,” she whispered.
His eyes dropped to her lips like they were already his. “I was thinking about your mouth.”
The air snapped between them. Her breath hitched.
“My… my mouth?” she managed.
He nodded once, his jaw clenching as though he was fighting himself. “Yeah. Your mouth.”
She felt it then, heat sliding low in her stomach, a dangerous pull she couldn’t name. The man she wasn’t supposed to want had just confessed what he fantasized about. And it wasn’t vague. It was her.
Luke’s voice dropped to a sinful whisper. “You have no idea how hard it is not to touch you right now.”
