Chapter 6

I woke up again at half past eleven at night.

I stared at the time on my phone.

This shouldn't be happening.

There was no way I had been awake for more than three hours today.

Most importantly, my body ached as if it had been run over by a truck.

It was sore and painful, yet with a strange sense of satisfaction.

A burning pain throbbed between my legs.

Gritting my teeth against the soreness, I looked down.

How could it be so red and swollen?

I was utterly baffled.

The exhaustion washing over me made me wonder if some succubus had drained my energy.

I slowly moved to the wardrobe to get clothes.

The full-length mirror beside it made my hair stand on end.

My buttocks were covered densely with hickeys!

There was only one explanation for this.

I had been taken.

But the only other person in this house was Ethan Lowell.

I slapped my forehead in frustration.

That dream might not have been a dream at all.

My stepbrother had made his move on me.

I laughed in angry disbelief.

Was he only brave enough to leave marks where I wouldn't easily see?

Covering my flushed cheeks, I cursed Ethan under my breath.

Really, did he have to use such underhanded methods?

Couldn't he just ask for my consent?

But if he had asked, would I have agreed?

I think I would have.

Ethan fulfilled all my fantasies about men.

He filled the void left by my absent father.

Since he didn't dare face me directly, I would play along and catch him in the act.

Maybe then he would find the courage to confront our relationship.

After all, we weren't related by blood.

Mom and William Lowell wouldn't be back anytime soon.

As these thoughts swirled, waves of exhaustion washed over me.

I fell asleep filled with determination.

The next morning, there was the usual glass of juice.

Remembering yesterday's events, I knew drinking this would leave me at his mercy.

With nervous hands, I poured the juice into my room's potted plant.

I was grateful for my habit of keeping plants in my bedroom.

Ethan came in and saw the empty glass.

He nodded with satisfaction.

"Seeing it empty makes you happy?" I teased.

He stiffened briefly but quickly recovered.

"Yes. I squeezed it myself. You drinking it all means it tasted good."

I rolled my eyes internally but kept my expression neutral.

I nodded, pretending to believe him.

"Okay then."

He hurried out, his steps unsteady.

It was clearly a frantic escape.

I couldn't help a muffled laugh, quickly covering my mouth.

Lying in bed, I stared at the ceiling.

I waited boredly for him to make his move.

The door opened softly.

Suddenly I felt nervous.

As his familiar footsteps drew closer, my heartbeat spiraled out of control.

Perhaps because my eyes were closed, my hearing seemed amplified.

Listening to his increasingly ragged breathing, I swallowed nervously.

He seemed to be assessing my state.

I tried to relax my face, but my heart raced uncontrollably.

The room fell silent, making my pounding heart deafening.

Just as I grew accustomed to his gaze and less tense, he finally moved.

Cool air brushed my skin as my pajamas were removed.

He pulled me into his embrace, warming me with his heated body.

I knew what was coming next.

My best friend had described this scenario to me many times.

I couldn't help feeling excited.

Ethan's unique scent filled my nostrils.

His masculine hormones seemed to rush into my body.

Soon, I felt like a small boat adrift on Ethan's vast ocean.

Rising and falling with the tides, I forgot all about exposing him.

I was intoxicated by Ethan from the very beginning.

Slowly, I lost consciousness.