Chapter 1
The house was quiet, the kind of silence that felt too heavy, too expectant. Lila had always hated the way it pressed in on her at night, making the walls feel closer, the air thicker. But tonight, it wasn’t the house making her restless. It was him.
Nathan Blackwood.
Her mother’s husband.
Her stepfather.
He’d moved in a year ago, bringing with him an air of quiet authority, the kind that made people sit up straighter in his presence. He wasn’t loud, wasn’t overly strict, but something about him demanded respect. Maybe it was the way he carried himself—broad shoulders, a strong jaw, eyes that always seemed to see through her. Like he knew every thought, every secret, before she even had a chance to voice them.
And God, did she have secrets.
Lila exhaled slowly, standing barefoot at the top of the stairs. She knew she shouldn’t be awake, shouldn’t be watching. But when she heard the low clink of ice against glass from the kitchen, she couldn’t help herself.
The glow from the under-cabinet lights cast long shadows, and there he was—Nathan, standing at the kitchen counter, pouring himself a drink. He was wearing nothing but sweatpants, the waistband slung low on his hips, his muscles shifting as he brought the glass to his lips.
She swallowed hard.
He was too much—too controlled, too perfect, too forbidden.
But she wasn’t a little girl anymore. She was nineteen now, an adult, and she was tired of pretending she didn’t feel the weight of his gaze every time they were alone. Tired of acting like she didn’t notice the way he lingered just a little too long when he passed by her in the hallway.
And tonight… tonight, she wanted to see how far she could push him.
She stepped forward, letting the old wood creak beneath her foot. His head turned instantly, sharp blue eyes locking onto her in the dim light.
“Lila,” his voice was rough, low. “What are you doing up?”
She tilted her head, pretending innocence. “Couldn’t sleep.”
Nathan’s jaw tightened as he set his glass down, watching her as she moved toward him, barefoot on the cool tile. His gaze flickered downward—just for a second—taking in the oversized shirt that barely brushed the tops of her thighs. One of his shirts.
He exhaled through his nose, a muscle ticking in his jaw. “Go back to bed.”
She ignored the warning in his tone. Instead, she leaned against the counter, too close, watching him like he was hers to play with.
“What if I don’t want to?”
His grip tightened around the glass. “Lila.”
The way he said her name sent a shiver down her spine. It was a warning, a final line drawn between them. But she could see it—the heat in his eyes, the crack in his resolve.
And God help her… she wanted to break him.
