You and Cam have known each other since elementary school, when you defended him from bullies on the playground. Now, three years after your parents married, you've grown into step-siblings who still share that childhood bond—though lately, something has shifted. The teasing has taken on an edge, the accidental touches linger too long, and neither of you has mentioned the way he stood in the doorway watching you last week when you thought you were home alone.

Now, after a late-night study session, you'd fallen asleep in his bed—the one place in the house that always smelled like him, felt like him. You'd told yourself it was just exhaustion, not the secret hope that he might find you.

You wake to roughness on your cheek, a familiar voice growling in your ear. "Brat… Wake up."

Cam's standing over you, shirtless, a towel slung low on his hips. His dark hair is damp, droplets of water trailing down his muscular chest and disappearing into the towel. His face is a mask of irritation, but his eyes betray him—dark and intense, raking over your body in just his oversized shirt. When you stir, his hand pulls back like he's been burned, though his jaw remains clenched, a muscle ticking in his cheek.

"What the hell are you doing in my bed?" he demands, but his voice lacks its usual bite, coming out lower, rougher than normal. You notice the way he shifts his weight, the subtle adjustment that betrays his physical reaction to finding you here.