Sleep refused to come.

I tossed and turned in the narrow guest bed, the thin sheet tangled around my legs, the distant roar of the ocean doing nothing to quiet the storm inside my chest. Every time I closed my eyes, I saw Damien’s face in the firelight, his intense stare, the way his voice had dropped when he said my name like it was something precious and forbidden at the same time.

It was past midnight when I finally gave up. The house was silent except for the creak of old wood and the soft hum of the fridge downstairs. I slipped on a light hoodie over my tank top and shorts, grabbed a blanket, and crept out to the deck.

The beach stretched dark and endless below, the bonfire long reduced to glowing embers. I settled into one of the lounge chairs, pulling the blanket around me, and stared at the stars. The cool night air brushed my skin, but it did little to cool the heat still simmering under my surface.

A soft footstep behind me made me freeze.

“You should be in bed, little Ellis.”

Damien’s voice was low, rough from lack of sleep. He stepped onto the deck, wearing only gray sweatpants that hung low on his hips. No shirt. The moonlight carved shadows across the defined lines of his chest and abdomen, and I had to force my gaze back to his face.

“I couldn’t sleep,” I whispered, clutching the blanket tighter.

He didn’t ask why. Instead, he dropped into the chair beside mine, close enough that our arms nearly brushed. For a long moment, neither of us spoke. The silence felt charged, alive with everything we weren’t saying.

“You know this is dangerous, right?” he finally murmured, eyes fixed on the dark water. “You sitting out here with me. Alone. Looking like that.”

“Looking like what?” My voice came out smaller than I intended.

“Like you want something you’re not supposed to have.” He turned his head, and our eyes locked. “Like you’ve been thinking about me the same way I’ve been thinking about you.”

My breath hitched. Shyness warred with the bold rush of adrenaline his words triggered. “You… you think about me?”

Damien let out a short, humorless laugh. “More than I should. You’re Marcus’s sister. You’re only eighteen. I’m twenty-one. This could blow up everything.”

“I know,” I said softly. But I didn’t move away. “Yet here you are.”

He ran a hand through his messy hair, jaw clenched. “Yeah. Here I am. Fighting the urge to do what I’ve wanted to do since I saw you in that swimsuit today.”

Heat flooded my face and lower. I shifted in the chair, suddenly aware of how thin my shorts were, how little fabric separated us. “What did you want to do?”

Damien’s gaze darkened. He leaned closer, one hand gripping the arm of my chair. “Touch you. Kiss you until you forget every reason this is wrong. Hear what sounds you make when you’re not being so damn quiet and shy.”

The confession hung between us, raw and electric. My heart hammered so loudly I was sure he could hear it. I had never been kissed. Never been touched the way his words promised. And yet, with him, the idea didn’t scare me, it thrilled me.

“I’m not as shy as everyone thinks,” I whispered, surprising myself.

His lips curved into a slow, dangerous smile. “Prove it.”

The challenge lingered. For once, I didn’t overthink. I reached out with trembling fingers and traced the line of his jaw, feeling the rough stubble beneath my skin. Damien’s breath stuttered. His hand came up to cover mine, holding it against his face.

“Elena…” It was half warning, half plea.

Before I could lose my nerve, I leaned in and pressed my lips to his.

It was clumsy at first, my inexperience showing, but Damien took control instantly. He cupped the back of my head, tilting me just right, and deepened the kiss with a hunger that made my toes curl. His mouth was hot, demanding, tasting faintly of salt and the beer from earlier. I melted into him, a soft whimper escaping me as his tongue brushed mine.

He groaned against my lips, the sound vibrating through me. “Fuck, you taste even better than I imagined.”

We kissed like the world might end if we stopped, slow and exploratory one moment, urgent and breathless the next. His free hand slid down my side, stopping respectfully at my waist, but the heat of his palm burned through the thin fabric of my hoodie.

When we finally broke apart, both of us breathing hard, Damien rested his forehead against mine.

“This changes nothing,” he said hoarsely. “You’re still off limits. Marcus would kill me. Your parents would never forgive me.”

“I know,” I whispered, my fingers still tangled in his hair. “But I don’t want to stop.”

He pulled back just enough to look at me, eyes stormy with conflict and desire. “Then we keep this quiet. No one can know. Not yet. Maybe not ever.”

The secrecy should have frightened me. Instead, it sent a thrill racing through my veins.

“Okay,” I agreed, heart soaring even as warning bells rang in the distance. “Our secret.”

Damien kissed me once more, soft this time, almost tender, before standing up. “Go back to bed, Elena. Before I forget every good reason I have to walk away right now.”

I nodded, legs shaky as I rose. As I slipped back into the house, I glanced over my shoulder. He was still watching me, hands clenched at his sides like it took everything in him not to follow.

That night, I fell asleep with the memory of his kiss branded on my lips and the terrifying, exhilarating knowledge that Damien Vale wanted me too.

Even if it was somehow forbidden.

The next morning, sunlight poured through the curtains like nothing had changed.

But everything had.

I woke with the ghost of Damien’s kiss still tingling on my lips and a nervous flutter in my stomach that made it impossible to eat breakfast. Mom kept asking if I felt okay. Marcus teased me for being “spacey.” I just smiled weakly and pushed my eggs around the plate, hyper-aware of Damien sitting across the table, calmly drinking coffee like he hadn’t turned my world upside down the night before.

Our eyes met once. Just once.

His gaze was dark, intense, and full of warning. *Act normal.*

I looked away first, cheeks burning.

The day dragged on with forced normalcy, beach walks, swimming, Marcus dragging Damien out for a surf session while I stayed under the umbrella with my book. Every laugh from the water made my chest tighten. Every time Damien emerged from the waves, water streaming down his chest and abs, I had to force myself to look somewhere else.

By late afternoon, the tension had become unbearable.

Marcus announced he was driving into town for supplies and would be gone for a couple of hours. Mom and Dad decided to join him for a quick grocery run, leaving the beach house unusually quiet.

Damien and I were alone.

The moment the car disappeared down the driveway, the air shifted. I was in the kitchen rinsing dishes when I felt him behind me. His presence was like heat at my back.

“Elena.”

His voice was low, rough. I turned slowly, drying my hands on a towel. He stood in the doorway, shirtless again, hair still damp from the ocean, looking every bit the forbidden temptation he was.

“We need to talk,” he said.

My heart raced. “About last night?”

He stepped closer, crowding me against the counter without touching me. “About how I can’t stop thinking about it. About how fucking wrong it is… and how much I still want more.”

I swallowed hard, my shyness warring with the bold rush his words created. “I want more too.”

Damien’s jaw clenched. He braced one hand on the counter beside me, leaning in until our faces were inches apart. “You’re eighteen now. Barely. Marcus trusts me. Your family trusts me. If anyone finds out…”

“I know,” I whispered. “But I don’t care right now.”

His control snapped.

He kissed me hard, backing me fully against the counter. This wasn’t the tentative first kiss from last night. This was hungry, desperate. His hands gripped my waist, pulling me flush against him as his tongue swept into my mouth. I moaned softly, fingers threading through his damp hair, tugging just enough to make him groan.

“God, you make the prettiest sounds,” he murmured against my lips, then trailed hot kisses down my neck. “Been driving me crazy all day.”

One of his hands slid under the hem of my tank top, palm warm against my bare skin. He didn’t go higher than my ribs, but the touch alone sent sparks shooting through me. I arched into him, shy but craving.

“Damien…” I breathed.

He pulled back just enough to look at me, eyes stormy with lust and restraint. “Tell me to stop and I will. Right now.”

I shook my head, biting my lip. “Don’t stop.”

That was all he needed.

He lifted me onto the counter in one smooth motion, stepping between my legs. His mouth claimed mine again while his hands explored, sliding up my thighs, gripping my hips, pulling me closer until I could feel exactly how much he wanted me. The hard press of him against my core made me gasp.

“Fuck, Elena,” he rasped, forehead pressed to mine. “You feel so good. So soft. Been imagining this for months.”

Heat flooded my face, but I didn’t pull away. Instead, I wrapped my legs around his waist, drawing him tighter. Our kisses turned frantic, hands roaming with growing confidence. His fingers slipped under my top, tracing the underside of my breast through my bra, and I whimpered at the new sensation.

We were both breathing hard when the distant sound of a car engine made us freeze.

Marcus. Back already.

Damien cursed under his breath and stepped back, helping me down from the counter. My legs felt like jelly. He smoothed my hair quickly, eyes wild.

“Act normal,” he whispered urgently. “This stays between us. Our secret. Understand?”

I nodded, heart still pounding. “Our secret.”

He pressed one last quick, fierce kiss to my forehead before moving to the living room, grabbing a random magazine like nothing had happened.

I busied myself with the dishes again, cheeks flushed, lips swollen, body still humming with unmet desire.

When Marcus walked in moments later, complaining about traffic, he found us both looking perfectly innocent.

But the spark between Damien and me had officially ignited.

And neither of us wanted to put it out.

The rest of the week became a delicious kind of torture.

By day, we played the perfect roles: Marcus’s quiet little sister and his laid-back best friend. We laughed at the same jokes, helped with chores, and sat through family dinners like nothing had changed. But under the table, Damien’s foot would brush mine. In the hallway, his fingers would graze my waist as he passed. Every stolen touch sent electricity racing across my skin and left me aching for more.

By night, the real fire began.

On the fifth night, after everyone had gone to bed, I slipped out to the beach again. The moon hung low and silver over the water. I spread my blanket on the sand and waited, heart hammering with anticipation and nerves.

He didn’t make me wait long.

Damien appeared like a shadow, barefoot and wearing only loose shorts. The moment he saw me, he crossed the distance in long strides and pulled me into his arms. Our kiss was immediate, deep, urgent, weeks of pent-up longing pouring out in the crash of waves around us.

“You’re driving me insane,” he growled against my mouth, hands sliding down my back to grip my hips. “Every time I look at you during the day, all I can think about is this.”

I shivered, pressing closer. My shyness melted a little more each time we were alone. “Then stop thinking and show me.”

He groaned, a raw sound that made heat pool low in my belly. He lowered me onto the blanket, covering my body with his. The weight of him felt perfect, solid, warm, overwhelming in the best way. His mouth moved from my lips to my neck, sucking lightly at the sensitive spot below my ear until I gasped.

“Quiet, baby,” he whispered, smiling against my skin. “Can’t have Marcus hearing those pretty sounds you make for me.”

His hand slipped under my thin tank top, pushing it up slowly. This time he didn’t stop at my ribs. His palm cupped my breast, thumb brushing over the lace of my bra. I arched into his touch, a soft whimper escaping before I could stop it.

“Fuck, you’re so responsive,” he murmured, kissing lower, pushing the fabric higher. “Been dreaming about tasting you.”

When his mouth closed over my nipple through the lace, pleasure shot through me like lightning. I bit my lip hard to stay quiet, fingers tangling in his dark hair. He took his time, switching sides, teasing until I was squirming beneath him.

“Damien…” I breathed, voice shaky.

He lifted his head, eyes dark with lust. “Tell me what you want, Elena. I need to hear it.”

My cheeks burned, but the words slipped out anyway. “Touch me… more.”

That was all the permission he needed.

His hand slid down my stomach, slipping beneath the waistband of my shorts. He paused, giving me one last chance to stop him. When I didn’t, his fingers dipped lower, finding me already wet and aching.

“Shit,” he hissed, forehead dropping to my shoulder. “You’re soaked for me. All this time pretending to be shy… and you’re this ready?”

I could only moan softly as he stroked me with slow, deliberate circles. The pleasure built fast and intense, my hips rocking against his hand instinctively. He kissed me again, swallowing every sound, his own breathing ragged.

“That’s it,” he whispered against my lips. “Let go for me. Come on my fingers, baby.”

The words, combined with the skilled pressure of his touch, pushed me over the edge. I came with a muffled cry against his neck, body trembling as waves of pleasure crashed through me.

Damien held me through it, murmuring soft praises“Good girl… so beautiful… mine”until I floated back down.

When I finally caught my breath, I reached for him, wanting to return the favor. My hand brushed the hard length straining against his shorts, but he gently caught my wrist.

“Not tonight,” he said, voice strained. “This was for you. We have time… as long as we’re careful.”

He kissed me softly, almost tenderly, then helped me straighten my clothes. We lay tangled together on the blanket for a while longer, listening to the waves, his fingers tracing lazy patterns on my arm.

“You know this can’t last forever like this,” he said quietly into the darkness. “The secrecy. The hiding.”

“I know,” I whispered, pressing closer. “But I don’t want to think about that yet.”

Damien sighed, pulling me tighter against his chest. “Neither do I. Not when you feel this right in my arms.”

As we finally slipped back into the house separately, him first, then me a few minutes later, I couldn’t shake the mix of euphoria and fear swirling inside me.

We were playing with fire.

And neither of us wanted to stop.