The stepbrother I shouldn't want

Chapter 16: Chapter 16: Doctor’s Orders

I woke to the smell of coffee and salt.

The cabin bedroom was flooded with thin, gold morning light, the kind that turned dust motes into floating sparks. Lucian was already awake, propped on one elbow, watching me with an intensity that made my skin feel too tight for my body.

"Stop staring," I mumbled into the pillow.

"I’m observing," he said. "There’s a difference."

"You’re creepy."

"I’m thorough." His hand traced the curve of my spine under the sheet, slow and deliberate. "Like a certain medical student I know."

I rolled over, pulling the linen to my chest. "I’m not a doctor yet."

"You examined me pretty thoroughly last night." His smirk was devastating in the daylight. "I’d say you earned the title."

"That wasn’t an examination."

"Then what was it?"

I felt my cheeks warm. "Research."

"Ah." He leaned in, his breath hot against my jaw. "Then maybe you should check my vitals. Make sure I survived the night."

⸻

Ten minutes later, I was straddling his hips, my hair still wild from sleep, wearing nothing but his discarded shirt from the night before. The buttons gaped open. He didn’t seem to mind.

"Pulse first," I said, pressing two fingers to the artery in his neck.

His heartbeat was strong. Fast. Too fast for someone lying still.

"Elevated," I noted, trying to sound clinical.

"You’re sitting on me wearing my shirt. I’d be concerned if it weren’t."

"Pupils," I said, leaning down close enough that our noses brushed. His eyes were dark, blown wide, fixed on my mouth instead of my eyes. "Dilated."

"Also your fault."

I ran my hands down his ribs, counting the scars I’d felt in the dark but hadn’t seen. A thin line below his left pec. A star shaped knot near his hip. A bruise, faint but fresh, blooming yellow across his ribs.

"What about this one?" I asked, my thumb hovering over the bruise.

His stomach tightened. "Old injury."

"It’s not old."

"Eliora." He caught my wrist, bringing my palm to his mouth. He kissed the center, his eyes never leaving mine. "You’re supposed to be examining me, not interrogating me."

"Maybe I want to know what I’m touching."

"Maybe I want you to touch me without asking questions."

He tugged me down by the collar of his shirt. Our mouths collided, coffee and mint and something darker, and I forgot about the bruise. I forgot about everything except the heat of him beneath me, the way his hands slid under the shirt to grip my waist, the low sound he made in his throat when I bit his lower lip.

"Reflexes," I breathed against his mouth.

"Check them," he challenged.

I didn’t get the chance.

His phone screamed from the nightstand.

We both froze. The ringtone was sharp, corporate, nothing like the lazy morning we’d built. Lucian’s hand tightened on my hip for one fraction of a second, then he reached over and silenced it without looking.

"Ignore it," he said, pulling me back down.

It rang again.

And again.

The fourth time, he swore under his breath and grabbed it.

His body went rigid beneath me as he stared at the screen.

I saw the name.

James.

"Yes," Lucian answered. His voice was flat. Empty. A stranger’s voice. "I know what time it is... No, I’m not at the apartment... I’ll be there by noon."

He hung up.

The silence that followed was heavier than the sheets.

⸻

"I have to go," he said, not looking at me.

"Lucian..."

"Office emergency." He was already moving, sliding out from under me and reaching for his pants. The man who’d been laughing two minutes ago vanished behind a wall of muscle and tension. He buttoned his shirt with sharp, efficient movements. His jaw was clenched so tight I could see the tendon jump. "My father needs me at the company."

I sat on the bed, clutching the sheet to my chest, watching him transform into someone I didn’t recognize.

The playful patient was gone.

In his place stood the company heir, armored in linen and lies.

He kissed me at the door, but it was different, urgent, desperate, like he was trying to memorize the taste of me before marching into a war zone.

"I’ll call you," he said.

Then he was gone.

⸻

I stood in the empty cabin, the coffee still steaming on the counter, the bed still warm where he’d lain.

My phone buzzed from the kitchen table where I’d left it charging.

I picked it up.

Mom: "James came by the apartment looking for Lucian this morning. He was furious about money missing from the company. He kept asking if I knew where Lucian was this weekend. He thinks Lucian was with someone."

My stomach dropped through the floorboards.

I looked out the window. Lucian’s Jeep was already disappearing down the coastal road, kicking up dust in its wake.

And I realized, with a clarity that turned my blood cold, that the man I’d just spent the night loving was driving straight back into a life that was falling apart, and he hadn’t told me a single truth about why.

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