Stepbrother's Lust: A Forbidden Mafia Romance

Rose’s POV

His mouth was still against mine.

For a second, I forgot how to breathe. The argument disappeared. The slap. The tears. The broken glass scattered across the floor. Even the reason I’d walked into his study in the first place seemed miles away. There was only him, his hand tangled in my hair, his other arm holding me close enough for me to feel his chest rise against mine.

My heart was pounding far too hard.

*What the hell am I doing?*

I should’ve pushed him away immediately. I knew that. I had every reason to. This was Reagan—the same infuriating man who had ignored me for weeks, scared the hell out of me at the club, and then told me to get out when I’d come here because I thought he’d hurt himself.

And now he was kissing me.

Again.

My fingers had somehow curled into his shirt. That realization snapped me out of it. I shoved him away and stumbled back, drawing in a breath that came out embarrassingly shaky.

Reagan didn’t move. He just looked at me.

I touched my lips without thinking. The second I realized what I’d done, I dropped my hand.

"What the hell was that?"

My voice came out sharper than I’d intended.

"What did it feel like?"

I stared at him. "Are you serious?"

That stupid smirk appeared.

"I never made a joke."

"Are you being fucking for real?"

My face was burning. I hated that he could make me nervous without even trying. His eyes moved over my face, lingering for just a second too long before dropping. My heart gave another stupid jump.

The smirk deepened.

"Don’t."

His eyebrow lifted. "Don’t what?"

"Don’t look at me like that."

"Like what?"

"Like you’re reading my damn soul."

He paused with a light smile before he answered

"That an offer?"

My stomach tightened. I glared at him.

"You’re unbelievable."

I turned toward the door. I needed to leave. Immediately. Before my heart did something even more humiliating. Before I forgot why I’d been angry. Before he kissed me again.

I made it two steps before his fingers closed around my hand.

"Let go."

He didn’t.

I turned around, ready to snap at him, but my eyes dropped to his hand. The bloodied cloth around his palm had shifted. A thin line of red ran between his fingers.

My anger faltered.

Only for a second.

"You’re bleeding."

He glanced down dismissively like it was a glass of red wine that had mistakenly spilled on his shirt not his own blood.

"I’m fine."

I eyed him with confused eyes.

I doubt your head is

"Yeah you definitely look fine and pristine", i said with an eye roll.

I tried pulling my hand away. He still didn’t let go.

"Reagan."

"It’s nothing."

"It’s blood."

He looked down at his palm as if he’d only just remembered the injury existed.

"I’ve had worse."

"As a child", He said immediately almost in the same breath

Weird

I scoffed. "That’s supposed to make me feel better?"

His eyes returned to mine. "What, Concerned?"

"I’m not."

"You are."

"I’m concerned about the carpet, one blood darkens it’ll be hard to wash off."

His eyes dropped toward the floor before raising it back to meet my face before giving a light smirk.

"Really?."

"Yes. Really."

I reached for the cloth around his hand. He let me take it. The moment I unwrapped it, I winced. The cut wasn’t deep, but it was ugly enough to make my stomach twist.

"What did you do?"

"Nothing."

I stared at him, then at the broken glass. "Did the glass just attack you?"

His mouth twitched.

I narrowed my eyes. "Don’t."

"Is that your only vocabulary?, You say that a lot."

"Because you annoy me a lot."

I grabbed a clean cloth from the desk and pressed it against his palm. He didn’t flinch. That irritated me.

"You should’ve cleaned this properly."

"I didn’t have time."

"You had time to break half the room."

"I was busy."

"Doing what?"

He didn’t answer.

I looked at him properly for the first time since I’d entered the room. His hair was slightly disheveled. His shirt was wrinkled. His knuckles were bruised, and there were tiny pieces of glass near his shoes.

He looked exhausted.

I hated that I noticed. I hated even more that I cared.

I tightened the cloth around his hand.

Maybe too tightly.

He looked down. "That’s uncomfortable."

"Oh yeah?."

His eyes lifted.

"You deserved worse."

For a moment, neither of us said anything. My fingers stayed around his wrist a second longer than they needed to. I noticed. So did he.

I let go immediately.

"There. Try not to punch any more walls tonight."

"Mmn."

"Don’t try. Just don’t."

He nodded.

"And stop with the super glued mouth hums"

Tsk

I stepped back and turned toward the door.

"Rose."

I stopped.

I closed my eyes. "What?"

He didn’t answer immediately.

I turned around. He was looking at me again.

"What?"

"Nothing."

I frowned. "Then why did you say my name?"

He didn’t answer.

I shook my head. "You’re impossible."

I turned away again, but I could feel his eyes following me.

It shouldn’t have bothered me but it did.

I stopped with my hand inches from the door and slowly looked back.

He was still staring.

My skin prickled.

"Don’t look at me like that."

His mouth twitched. "Like what?"

"Like..."

I stopped. I didn’t even know how to explain it.

"Just don’t."

His eyes narrowed slightly.

"Nervous?."

"I’m not."

"Sure?."

"I’m literally not."

"Your actions says otherwise."

I opened my mouth.

Nothing came out.

Damn him.

I crossed my arms. "You’re imagining things."

"Am I?"

"Yes."

He didn’t say anything after that.

That somehow made it worse.

I looked away. The room was suddenly too quiet. I could hear the faint ticking of the clock, the distant hum of the air conditioner, even my own breathing.

I glanced at the broken glass, then the bloodstained whiskey, then him.

"This is ridiculous."

"What is?"

"Everything."

He stayed quiet.

I rubbed my arms. "I shouldn’t even be here."

"I didn’t conjure you here now did i?."

"You motherfu-, it’s because I heard something break."

"Could’ve just ignored it."

"And yet", i said with a tired sigh and gestured to myself.

That earned the smallest hint of amusement from him.

I pointed at him. "Don’t you dare find this funny"

His expression settled again.

"I mean.", He said with a lazy shrug, "it is funny."

"What?"

"Ignore it."

I frowned.

He glanced toward the broken glass. "I almost ignored the noise too."

I stared at him.

"You’re not making sense."

"Mmn."

Again with this tight lipped shit

I groaned internally my eyebrows twitching

I shook my head. "You’re impossible."

He looked at me.

"You’re a spoonful."

"Huh?"

He looked like he was holding himself back from laughing.

"Spit it out damn it!"

"You’re antics don’t measure up to a handful, just a little whistling kettle."

I don’t know if I’ve lost my mind or I’ve lost my mind because that should’ve made me angry but it... It didn’t.

Little whistling kettle. My heart skipped.

I immediately looked toward the door.

"I was checking your hand."

He raised up his bandaged hand.

"You already did."

"I was making sure you didn’t reopen it."

"It’s fine."

"Then I’m leaving."

I turned.

This time he didn’t stop me.

I reached the door and wrapped my fingers around the handle.

I should leave.

I needed to leave.

But something kept me standing there.

Maybe it was the silence. Maybe it was the fact that I knew I’d replay this night in my head the second I got back to my room.

Maybe it was the kiss.

I hated that I was already thinking about it again.

I looked back.

Reagan hadn’t moved.

He was watching me.

"What?"

"Nothing."

"Then stop looking at me."

He didn’t.

Heat crept up my neck.

"You’re doing it again."

"Doing what?"

"Staring."

"You’re still standing there."

I frowned. "Because you’re making it weird."

"You’re the one who stopped."

I opened my mouth.

Closed it.

He was right.

I hated that.

I turned toward him again. "You’re such a—"

I stopped.

He’d stepped closer.

Not enough to touch me.

Just enough to make me notice.

My heart started pounding again.

I hated that my body reacted before my mind could tell it not to.

His gaze dropped briefly to my lips, then back to my eyes.

I swallowed.

"Reagan..."

He didn’t answer.

"Stop."

"I didn’t do anything."

"You were about to."

"About to what?"

I couldn’t answer.

Because I didn’t know.

Maybe that was the problem.

I knew what I was afraid of.

I just didn’t know whether I was afraid of him doing it...

Or afraid that I wouldn’t stop him.

He took another step.

I held my breath.

Then he stopped.

The distance between us suddenly felt much smaller than it was.

I could smell the faint whiskey on him.

My eyes flicked toward his mouth before I could stop myself.

His eyes caught the movement.

Of course they did.

That damn smirk appeared.

I immediately looked away.

"You’re enjoying this."

"A little."

I scoffed. "You really are an asshole."

"So you’ve said."

I should’ve been angry.

I was.

But beneath the anger was something else. Something warm and frightening. Something I didn’t want to name.

He lifted his hand.

I froze.

His fingers moved toward my face.

For one second, I thought he was going to kiss me again.

Instead, his fingertips brushed a loose strand of hair away from my cheek.

I didn’t move.

He tucked it gently behind my ear.

The gesture was so simple that it shouldn’t have affected me.

It did.

My breath caught.

His fingers lingered near my cheek for a moment before slowly falling away.

I stared at him.

He stared back.

My heart was still pounding.

I wanted to say something. Anything.

A sarcastic comment would’ve been easy. A complaint. An insult. Something to put the distance back between us.

Nothing came.

His eyes stayed on mine.

And for once, neither of us looked away.

Visit and read more novel to help us update chapter quickly. Thank you so much!