Chapter 1: The Bunny Trap
The Easter weekend at the family cabin was supposed to be a quaint, pastel-colored affair—egg hunts, chocolate bunnies, and forced smiles for the sake of tradition. But when I, Lila, strutted through the door in my tight jeans and leather jacket, I could feel the air shift. My stepbrother, Ethan, was already there, lounging on the couch with a beer in hand, his sharp green eyes flicking over me like I was the damn Easter prize.
'Well, damn, Lila, didn’t expect you to show up looking like you’re hunting more than eggs,' he drawled, a smirk tugging at his lips as he took a slow sip, never breaking eye contact.
I tossed my bag on the floor and crossed my arms, pushing my chest out just enough to make him notice. 'And I didn’t expect you to still be the same cocky asshole, Ethan. Thought you’d grow out of it by now.' My voice was sharp, but the heat in my belly was undeniable. We’d danced this dance before—snarky jabs hiding a tension so thick you could cut it with a knife.
He stood, all six feet of lean muscle, and sauntered over, stopping just close enough that I could smell the faint musk of his cologne. 'Oh, I’ve grown, sis. In all the right places.' His grin was pure sin, and I hated how it made my thighs clench.
'Keep dreaming, pretty boy. I’m not here for your bullshit,' I shot back, but my eyes betrayed me, lingering on the way his shirt clung to his chest. I turned toward the kitchen, needing space, but he followed, his presence a persistent heat at my back.
'Come on, Lila. You can’t tell me you didn’t wear that outfit knowing I’d be here. You’re playing dirty.' His voice dropped low, teasing, as he leaned against the counter, watching me grab a glass of water with a predator’s patience.
I spun around, water sloshing, and stepped right into his space, our faces inches apart. 'If I’m playing dirty, Ethan, you’re the one who’s gonna get burned. I don’t play games I can’t win.' My words were a challenge, and the way his jaw tightened told me he felt it—hard.
His hand shot out, gripping the counter behind me, caging me in. 'Careful, Lila. Keep talking like that, and I might just have to show you how I win.' His breath was hot against my ear, and I could feel my pulse racing, my body traitorously aching for more.
I tilted my chin up, meeting his gaze with fire. 'Try me, stepbro. I dare you.' My voice was a purr, and I saw the moment his control snapped—his eyes darkening with raw, hungry need. He closed the gap, his lips crashing into mine, rough and demanding, and I kissed him back just as fierce, my hands fisting in his shirt. Our tongues clashed, a battle of wills, and I felt the hard press of him against my hip, undeniable proof of how much he wanted this.
We stumbled back, my ass hitting the counter as his hands roamed, gripping my hips, pulling me closer. I could feel myself getting wet, the heat between us unbearable, and I knew we were seconds away from tearing each other’s clothes off right there in the kitchen. His fingers dipped under my shirt, brushing my skin, and I gasped, already dripping with anticipation for what was coming next.
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