My Mum's Friend Awoke My Obsession For My Stepbrothers

Saraphina’ pov

My uncle’s broken leg was the best thing that ever happened to me. I felt guilty for the thought, but it was the truth. His accident sent my mother away. It left me alone in the house. Well, not completely alone. She called Cassian. The second she told me, a dangerous idea took root in my mind. This was not a week to be endured. It was a week to be seized. I was going to make him see me, not as a girl, as a woman.

Cassian was my mother’s friend. He had always been there, a steady presence in the background of my life. He helped with my homework. He fixed things around the house. He was like family, but he was not. And at some point, my view of him had shattered and reformed. I no longer saw the kind family friend. I saw the man. I noticed the way his black hair shone. I saw how his blue eyes could hold mine and make my breath catch. He was all solid strength, with shoulders that looked made for carrying burdens and arms I dreamed would hold me. The few silver threads in his hair did not make him seem old. They made him more real.

I had made a quiet, firm decision. He would be my first. This strange, perfect week was my only chance. All my playful touches, all my long looks, had been practice. And the heat I sometimes saw in his eyes told me he was not blind to it.

The house was too quiet after my mother’s car pulled away. The silence was a countdown. Then I heard it. The deep sound of his engine. Tires on the gravel. My heart began to race.

I looked out the window. He was here. He stepped out of his white car and my lungs felt empty.

He looked impossible. His simple black shirt was stretched across his solid chest. His old jeans sat low on his hips. He moved with an easy confidence that started a warm, heavy feeling deep inside me. It was new. It was terrifying. It was absolutely right.

He lifted his bag and walked toward the door. I could not move.

I had planned for this. I wore my smallest shorts. I had on a thin, soft shirt with nothing under it. I painted my toenails a shy, shell pink. My blonde hair was down in loose waves because he had once mentioned he liked it that way. I never forgot a thing he said.

The front door opened. The solid sound of his boots on the floor sent a shock through my whole body. This was it.

I pulled in a deep breath. I tossed my hair back. I let a smile touch my lips, one I hoped was both sweet and knowing. Then I flew down the stairs. My voice was breathless when I called his name. I was ready for the man who owned all my secret dreams.

“Cassian!” I called out as I ran down the stairs. I did not try to hide the hope in my voice. The moment he saw me, his whole body went still. I watched his eyes travel down. A slow, deliberate look over my bare legs, then back up to the thin fabric of my shirt. A grin spread across my face. Before he could speak, I threw myself at him.

My arms locked around his neck. My legs wrapped around his waist. I pressed my whole body against the solid wall of his chest. He was so warm. His scent, that clean cologne mixed with something that was just him, wrapped around me. I breathed him in deep. A low sound of surprise rumbled in his chest. His arms came up around me. He held me secure for one perfect, heart-stopping moment. Then he carefully put me down.

“Hey now,” he said, his voice a soft warning. He did not let go completely. His hands stayed on my shoulders, putting a careful inch of space between us.

I let out a groan. I gave him the same pout I had used since I was twelve to get my way.

“Hey,” he said again, his voice impossibly tender. He hooked a finger under my chin and lifted it until my eyes met his deep blue ones. “Are you not a little too old to be jumping on me like that, Saraphina?”

“Cassian!” I complained, pushing my lip out further. “Did you even miss me?”

That smile. The one that did crazy things to my insides. It broke across his face. The dimple in his cheek appeared. My heart stuttered. “Of course I missed you, little princess.”

Inside, I was screaming that I was not his little girl anymore. I was eighteen. A woman. But the old nickname, spoken in that voice, still sent a thousand butterflies loose in my stomach. The feeling only grew when his hand gave my arm a brief, warm squeeze before he turned to grab his bag.

He started toward the downstairs guest room, but I darted forward. My hand closed around his bare forearm. “Not there,” I said, my smile turning into a secret shared.

He looked at me, a question in his eyes. “No? Where, then?”

“My mom said you should take her room. She would feel awful making you sleep on that terrible futon all week.” The lie came so easily. It was a necessary part of my plan.

Before he could argue, I linked my arm with his and guided him up the stairs. I led him to the room right next to mine. I threw myself onto the big bed. I let my hand stroke the soft covers.

“See? So much better,” I said, looking up at him through my eyelashes. “I even put fresh sheets on for you.”

For just one heartbeat, I saw something new in his eyes. A dark, heated look. Then he turned away. The moment broke when he cleared his throat.

“The guest room is fine,” he said, his voice a little rough. “It is… better.”

“Absolutely not,” I replied. I rolled onto my stomach and kicked my feet in the air like the girl he remembered. “My mom was very clear. And besides,” I added, letting my voice drop to something more intimate, “I will sleep better knowing you are right here next door.”

He dragged a hand down his face. A long sigh escaped him. He looked like a man giving up a fight he knew he had already lost.

“All right,” he conceded. “I will stay here.”

“Perfect!” I chirped, bouncing off the bed. “I will start dinner.”

I was almost at the door when I stopped and spun around. I acted like a thought had just hit me. “Oh! I almost forgot. The hot water in this bathroom is being weird. So I guess you will just have to bathe with me.”

His eyes went wide. A flash of pure, unguarded shock crossed his face. It was more satisfying than I could have imagined. I let out a light, musical laugh.

“I mean, you will have to use my shower,” I corrected, my smile all innocence. “I hope that is alright.”

I did not wait for an answer. I turned with a little swing in my step. I felt the weight of his stare on my back all the way out the door. As I walked downstairs, a slow, deep smile spread across my face.

It was all going according to plan.