Chapter 3 She needs a Therapist

Loretta didn't sleep well.

She'd tossed and turned all night, her pillow growing hotter under her cheek the longer the noises kept coming-low, breathy moans through the paper-thin walls.

Seriously?

Day three. That's all it took for her adopted brother to turn their house into a brothel.

Why her mother adopted that devil, she'd never know. But she did know-deep in her bones-that she hated Martin.

Very much.

Morning sunlight mocked her through the blinds. Loretta shuffled into the kitchen wearing an oversized sleep shirt and a frown, her coffee mug gripped like a weapon.

And of course-there he was.

Martin. Bare-chested. Gray sweats slung low. Flipping pancakes like he hadn't just ruined her night. Humming.

He didn't even glance back when he said, "You good?"

Her jaw tightened. "Are you serious right now?"

He looked over his shoulder, unfazed. "Wow. Drama already? What did I do this time?"

"Don't play dumb."

"I'm not." He plated a pancake, then leaned against the counter, arms crossed-abs obnoxiously on display.

"You had someone over."

"Yep."

"You had sex. In this house."

"Technically, my part of the house. And yes, welcome to adulthood."

She stared. "Do you have no self-control?"

Martin smirked. "Self-control's a myth."

Loretta set her mug on the table with a loud thunk. "You're disgusting."

"Thanks. She didn't think so."

Her face heated. Not from the coffee. "You think this is funny?"

"I think you're funny," he said. "Storming in here like I ruined your life."

"You ruined my sleep."

"You'll live."

"You're unbelievable."

He tilted his head, still maddeningly calm. "Why does it bother you so much?"

"It doesn't," she snapped.

"Right." His grin said he didn't believe her. "Totally explains why you're five seconds from launching that mug at my face."

She folded her arms. "It's rude."

"It's natural."

"It's my house."

"Our house," he corrected. "I love your mom, remember?"

Loretta's fists clenched. "You're not even family."

His smile didn't waver. "Too bad the paperwork disagrees."

She stepped forward. "Do you do this just to piss me off?"

He paused. Smiled wider. "Is it working?"

She didn't answer.

Martin's gaze didn't waver. "Tell me something. When you heard us last night... were you thinking about us? Or are you still pretending that night never happened?"

Her breath caught.

And then, slap.

His head turned with the impact, but the smile didn't fade.

"There she is."

"You're a bastard."

"I've been called worse."

"I mean it."

"I know."

Her eyes burned. Her hands were shaking. From rage. From something she didn't want to name.

Martin's gaze softened-not kind, but curious. Studying her like a puzzle he couldn't quite solve.

"I'll make your life hell if you keep pushing me."

He shrugged. "You already do. Weirdly, I don't hate it."

"You're insufferable."

"And yet you're still here."

She turned to leave, mug forgotten.

"Love you too, sister."

She should hire an assassin.

***

Flashback

She had to stop looking.

She really had to stop.

She turned away, grabbed a cup of something orange and too sweet. But the second she looked back, his eyes were there.

On her.

She froze.

He raised his beer like a toast. "You stalking me or what sister?"

She rolled her eyes. "You wish."

He walked over, slow and loose, like he owned the floor. "I do, actually," he said, voice low. "Wouldn't mind being your little obsession."

"Gross," she snapped, too fast.

He grinned wider. "That blush says otherwise."

She nearly choked on her drink. "I'm not blushing."

"You always do when I talk to you."

"I don't."

"You do. It's cute."

She crossed her arms, heart hammering. "Are you drunk?"

He shrugged. "Buzzed. Are you?"

"Maybe."

"Then stop looking at me like you wanna kiss me."

Her whole face flamed. "I'm not..."

Martin stepped closer. His eyes dropped to her mouth. "You sure about that?"

Oh no.

This wasn't happening.

He couldn't know. Couldn't know she'd been obsessing over him since. That she wrote about him in her Notes app like some pathetic Wattpad cliché.

He smelled like beer and soap and something distinctly boyish. Her knees wobbled.

Her brain went fuzzy.

"You've had, like, ten girlfriends," she muttered.

"Jealous?"

"No."

He cocked his head. "You're cute when you lie."

"I'm not lying."

He leaned in like he could smell the truth on her skin. "You wanna find out what it's like?"

"What what's like?"

He smiled like sin. "Kissing me."

She swallowed. Hard. "That's... you're insane."

"Could be," he murmured, "but you're still not walking away."

Her mouth opened. Closed. They were useless but not for long.

His fingers brushed her hip. Barely. But it sent a jolt of heat down her spine.

She didn't move.

"Say the word," he said.

"Martin, we can't..."

"Can't or won't?"

He kissed her.

Mouth on hers soft but hungry. Her fingers grabbed his hoodie like they had a mind of their own. His hands slid around her waist.

Her body turned to static. She'd kissed one guy before and it wasn't like this. It hadn't melted her. It hadn't made her feel like her bones were smoke and her soul was escaping her skin.

His hand tangled in her hair. Her body curved into his like it belonged there.

Like she'd been waiting for this since forever.

Because maybe she had.

"Tell me to stop," he whispered against her lips. "Tell me to back off. I will."

She didn't.

Instead-her hand curled into his shirt. Her mouth found his. Or maybe it was his mouth that found hers. Who cared?

His lips were rough and hot and messy and right. Her back hit the fridge.

"Still hate me?" he rasped.

She moaned. "Shut up."

"Thought you'd never ask."

Clothes hit the floor.

They barely made it up the stairs. He pulled her into a room-his room. Bedroom door slamming shut. Mouths still locked.

She should've stopped it.

They were practically family.

Adopted siblings. Shared a damn house. It was wrong, it was dangerous, it was something that would wreck them.

But she didn't stop it.

He peeled her dress down her body like it was made of silk and secrets. Her skin burned under his touch.

"God," he whispered, eyes drinking her in. "You're driving me crazy, Lo."

He kissed down her throat, over her collarbone, lower.

She moaned his name, her head tilting back.

He sucked gently where her neck met her shoulder and she knew it'd leave a mark.

She didn't care.

Her fingers shook as she reached for his jeans. "Off."

"Bossy," he teased again, breathless now.

"I mean it."

He stepped out of them, eyes never leaving hers.

She knew what this was.

She wasn't stupid.

She was nineteen. Drunk. Horny. Obsessed with a boy who wasn't really hers but somehow always had been.

"You're sure?" he asked, hands pausing at the hem of her underwear.

And for a second, she was scared.

"I've never done this before," she admitted.

His expression froze.

"You've never...?"

She shook her head. "You'll be the first."

Martin stared at her like she'd just dropped a live grenade between them.

"Lo..." he said softly, the cocky grin gone. "You don't have to. We don't have to..."

"I want to," she said, voice firm this time. "I want it to be you."

Even if it broke the rules.

Even if they were never supposed to cross that line.

Because she'd wanted him.

Since day one.

Adopted brother or not.

He exhaled like that knocked the wind out of him. "Fuck."

Then he kissed her again, gentler now. Like he understood what she was giving him.

And he didn't rush.

Not once.

He touched her like she was something breakable. Guided her, coaxed her, made her laugh between gasps, and called her beautiful like he meant it.

When he pushed inside her, her breath hitched. His hands cradled her face.

"Eyes on me," he said. "I've got you."

She arched against him, nails in his back, body trembling. It felt like everything.

His name spilled from her lips like a prayer and a curse.

"God, Lo," he groaned into her mouth. "You're gonna ruin me."

You already ruined me, she wanted to scream.

She didn't. She kissed him instead.

Loretta gasped awake, chest rising and falling like she'd run a marathon. Her heart thudded in her ears, and her thighs still tingled like the dream.

She rubbed her eyes and sat up, trying to shake the image of his mouth on her skin, the sound of his voice in her ear, the way her body had opened for him like he still belonged there.

Him thrusting into her...

God. What the hell!

She hadn't dreamed about that night in years.

"Sweet Mom, what did I do to deserve to be paired with my past mistakes?"