MADISON

My body is nestled into the passenger side of the car, my hair cascading over my shoulder. I release a deep breath, unaware that it would be the last moment of calm before the storm, freezing as Caden leans in closer.

His eyes lock onto my lips, his warm breath caressing my skin. The intensity in his hazel gaze ignites a spark deep within me, raising the hairs on my neck in anticipation.

My mouth goes dry, and despite swallowing, my nerves persist. Panic sets in.

Clutching the fabric of my gown nervously, I brace myself as he leans in even further. Our foreheads touch, and for a fleeting second, I allow myself to imagine what I can't have. But reality crashes in, reminding me of his past rejection.

The click of the seat belt shatters the moment, and I watch as he retreats, shutting the car door with a soft thud.

"Keep humiliating yourself, Maddie. It's a good lesson," a mocking voice echoes within me. I concede to its truth, my protests silenced as Caden drives us away.

During the ride, I remain silent, lost in thought until a red stain on my sky-blue dress catches my eye.

"Maybe you should stop by a pharmacy and clean up," I suggest, avoiding his gaze.

"I'll take a shower," he replies.

"But a shower can't fix everything. It only cleans the surface," I explain gently.

"You did tell me to get cleaned up," he counters.

Must he always be so direct?

Briefly glancing at the irritated man beside me, I clarify, "I meant you might need a doctor. Your nose is bleeding." I quickly look away, staring at the cab ahead. "I can't help but wonder what kind of trouble you've gotten into this time. I thought you were here to disrupt my plans and sabotage my future."

"Real funny," he mutters dryly.

Luck is on our side as I spot a drugstore ahead. "Just pull over at that pharmacy," I gesture, hoping he'll listen this time.

To my dismay, he ignores my plea and continues driving. Frustration bubbles up, and I can't help but react. "Seriously, stop!" I grasp the wheel, attempting to halt the car. "Don't just drive away." I push his shoulder determinedly and wrestle with the wheel.

Suddenly, the car veers, blaring horns piercing the air. Panic courses through me.

"Oh no, not this!" I plead inwardly.

"What's wrong with you? You're going to get us killed!" Caden shouts, pushing me back into my seat with his shoulder.

"Stop the damn car!" I cry out, my frustration reaching its peak as I continue to strike his shoulder.

His single hand attempts to restrain me, but this time, I refuse to relent. "Cut it out, Mad," he warns, his voice tinged with anger. "What the fuck is going on with you?"

Without warning, he sharply turns into an empty alley, bringing the car to a halt.

"What's your problem? Why do you insist on meddling in things that don't concern you?" He demands, his eyes burning with fury.

"I could ask you the same thing. You practically coerced me into leaving my therapy session for your own satisfaction."

"I didn't coerce you. I presented you with a choice. You chose to keep our little secret just between us, like always," he retorts, a harsh edge to his voice.

"We don't have any secrets to hide," I respond, my frustration evident.

"Are you sure? Because last time I checked, cumming all over in your brother's dick is pretty damn scandalous," he smirks maliciously.

"Stepbrother," I correct firmly, biting my inner cheek to stave off the tears threatening to spill.

"Does it really matter?" he taunts.

"You're sick," I mutter, turning my gaze away and blinking rapidly.

"Is that what turns you on? Sick? That's why you took advantage of me while I was barely conscious?" His words cut deep, and I can't bear the torment any longer.

"Fuck you, Caden. I'll walk home." I fling the car door open, stepping out into the chilly air. I leave my backpack behind, just as I did with my bicycle earlier, opting for a frigid walk over enduring Caden's hurtful remarks.

The alley is shrouded in mist, its eerie silence far preferable to the cruel words Caden has hurled at me.

I hear the car door open and close behind me, followed by hurried footsteps. I quicken my pace, hoping to evade him, but his grip on my wrist is unrelenting, stopping me in my tracks.

"Don't touch me, you asshole," I explode in frustration, my trembling hand slapping his chest repeatedly.

"Enough, Mad. Stop it," he warns firmly.

And what if I don't?

"Are you going to hit me? That's the only thing you haven't done to me yet. So why not just get it over with? Beat me," I challenge, delivering a punch to his solid stomach, though it hardly fazes him. "Retaliate, Caden. Do your worst. That's your typical approach," I shout in the dimly lit surroundings.

Caden seizes both of my wrists in his strong hand, pushing me until my back meets the wall.

"Don't touch me," I groan, wriggling in an attempt to break free.

He leans in, our foreheads touching, his voice a low whisper. "Relax." I comply, my struggles subsiding as if I were a well-trained pet.

Though I don't look up, I sense his intense gaze on me, likely focused on my trembling lips.

"I hate you," I confess, my breath catching in my throat.

It's all I can think of, as everything loses its meaning, and the forbidden desire for what I shouldn't want envelops me.

He inhales deeply through his injured nose, and his response is laced with bitterness: "I hate you even more."

Meeting his gaze. His thick voice. His half-closed eyes and soothing touch contradicted his words.

He holds me tenderly in his warm embrace, his free hand tracing a path along my exposed stomach where the gown has ripped.

In our close proximity, the line between right and wrong blurs. Our noses brush, our breaths sync, and his intoxicating scent fill my senses.

Anticipation and excitement surge within me, igniting sluggish nerves. The desire for him intensifies, undeniable, and overwhelming.

"I hate you more than you can imagine," I murmur, my eyes locked on his parted lips.

Unable to resist, I watch as his tongue glides over his lips, his voice dropping to an undertone. "I hate you more than is legally acceptable." Our lips brush in the process, reigniting the forbidden temptation that had been simmering in me for wanting him.

My breathing quickens, becoming ragged.

"I hate you more than infinity," I sigh, our lips colliding once again. His eyes flutter shut, desire evident in his expression. A pleasant sound escapes his throat, fanning the flames of my arousal.

Heat surges between my legs, a desperate ache building at my core.

"Madison Thaddeus," he purrs, his voice thick with desire. Our lips meet once again, and this time, neither of us pulls away. We remain locked in this intimate embrace, our connection unbroken, and I silently thank my fortunate stars for keeping me in this moment.

With my eyes closed and my breath ragged, I find myself uttering a bewildering question, barely above a whisper, "Are we kissing?"

His head shakes ever so slightly, a playful tilt as he responds, "We're arguing, Mad." His voice is laced with a mixture of provocation and lust, and he captures my bottom lip between his teeth, sending a shiver down my spine.

The sensual foreplay has ignited all the desire and excitement he's been stoking within me for the past twenty minutes.

I'm not sure how my hands find their way around his neck, pulling him closer. They become entangled, and I'm caught in his spell, unable to resist the intoxicating blend of his unique taste mixed with a hint of iron that leaves me craving more ecstasy with every passing second.

I devour his essence, savoring each kiss, as his smooth and soft lips press against mine. He presses his body against mine, the arousal between us palpable through the fabric that separates us.

His teasing touch on my clothed arms only intensifies our hunger, and we kiss with an unrestrained fervor, our lips battling like two wild animals.

His kisses are deep like a device meticulously designed for this exact purpose. It's no surprise that every girl desires him. I'm no exception.

His warm tongue explores every corner of my mouth, tracing every secret contour. His hands find their way to the small of my back, their journey continuing to the back of my hips, where they loop around my thighs, lifting me effortlessly, and wrapping my legs around his waist.

Our lips remain locked, and he guides us back to his car. I feel the cold metal of the hood against my back as he gently lays me down. His lips journey down my neck, eliciting a moan that escapes before I can contain it.

His warm, skilled lips mark their territory, leaving an indelible trace of our encounter for tomorrow.

As his lips catch my hardened nipple through the fabric, I surrender to the sensation, pushing against him, reuniting our lips in a passionate frenzy. Our eyes are shut tight, breaths ragged, as I unzip his pants with eagerness. When he enters me, a sense of awkwardness ensues, but it is so good, my walls clenches around his dick not letting go.

I cry out as unfamiliar sensations ripple through my lower body.

"Fuck," he breathed.

"Caden, are we fucking?" I begin, my voice trailing off, my breath hitching as he thrusts deeply, making his presence known in every fiber of my being.

"No, we're fighting, Mad." he groans into my neck, his movements growing faster and more urgent. I moan in response, the rhythm of the connection pushing us both to the edge.

There's a slight twinge of discomfort for the second time, but it subsides. I learn that. Mostly when the person I did it with, isn't the romantic type and all he wants is to get done with it.

***

"Get in," he commands, zipping up his pants and composing himself.

On the hood of the car, I slowly reorient myself from the intoxicating haze of ecstasy that had consumed me. I embrace a new wave of sorrow, the heaviness settling in as we drive back home in silence.

The next day unfolded just as I anticipated. Caden acts as though I don't exist, avoiding any interaction. He focuses on everything but me. The only time he addresses me is a reminder to take the pill – not that I need it, given I have no desire for a miniature version of him.

He enters class late, allowing me an opportunity to slip away and use the bathroom. He orders food but refrains from using the kitchen, ensuring our paths don't cross.

As the day progresses, an unease begins to gnaw at me. I struggle to concentrate in class and at work, the tension growing harder to ignore.

Thankfully, Asher came to my rescue last night, recovering my bicycle from the lot and bringing it to school today. At least that's one less worry on my plate.

I don't need any more turmoil in my life.

Sitting at my desk, I mentally compile a list of things to discuss with Caden before he can confront me. However, my preoccupations are disrupted when I make the mistake of inviting another issue into my world. I invite the person behind a knock on my office door to come in.

To my surprise, it's Celeb, his signature shirt paired with blue jeans. His red hair is in disarray, a purple bruise marring his temple. Despite the injury, he remains stunning, as always. In his hand, he holds an envelope.

"What are you doing here?" I ask, direct, and forward.