Chapter 1 : The Sensitive Girl

The summer night in the Hamptons was thick with humidity and secrets. Evelyn Summers sat in the passenger seat of Alexander Grant''s sleek black Mercedes, the engine purring softly like a contented cat. Through the tinted windows, she could see the imposing silhouette of the Thompson mansion-er new home since her mother''s remarriage three months ago.

Her gaze drifted upward to the third floor, where a single window glowed with soft light.

Marcus was home.

Just the thought of her stepbrother made her jaw tighten. That arrogant, infuriatingly handsome face flashed in her mind, along with the memory of his smug smile when he''d first demanded she call him "brother." They were only ten days apart in age, for God''s sake.

She was so lost in her irritation that she didn''t notice Alexander''s hand sliding around her waist until his warm palm settled on the curve of her hip.

"Evie?" His voice was low, intimate.

She turned, her nose brushing against his. Moonlight filtered through the windshield, casting his handsome features in silver and shadow. His eyes, usually warm and gentle, now held a darker intensity that made her breath catch.

"Don''t," she murmured, but the protest lacked conviction.

Alexander chuckled, the sound vibrating through his chest as he pulled her closer. "You say that," he whispered against her ear, his breath warm and tinged with the faint scent of mint, "but your body tells a different story."

His lips found the sensitive skin just below her ear, and Evelyn shivered. She''d always been particularly responsive there, and Alexander knew it. He''d learned all her sensitive spots over their six months together.

"We passed a five-star hotel on the way here," he murmured between kisses that trailed down her neck. "You''re eighteen now. Spending the night with your boyfriend is perfectly normal."

His hand slid upward from her waist, over the thin silk of her summer dress, until his palm cupped the full curve of her breast. She never wore heavy bras, preferring the freedom of bralettes or nothing at all beneath her clothes. Tonight, she''d chosen the former, and now she regretted it as his fingers found the hardened peak through the delicate fabric.

"Alexander..." Her protest dissolved into a gasp as he pinched gently, then rolled the sensitive bud between his thumb and forefinger.

"Shh," he soothed, his other hand slipping beneath the hem of her dress. "Just relax, baby."

His fingers traced a path up her inner thigh, and Evelyn''s breath hitched. She knew where this was going, had imagined it countless times in the privacy of her bedroom. But here, in the shadow of her new home, with Marcus just a few hundred feet away...

"Your skin is so soft," Alexander breathed, his lips finding hers in a deep, claiming kiss.

Evelyn''s resistance melted. Her hands came up to tangle in his dark hair as she kissed him back, her body arching into his touch. When his fingers found the edge of her panties and slipped beneath, she didn''t stop him. When they brushed against her damp heat, she actually moaned into his mouth.

"You''re so wet already," he murmured against her lips, a note of masculine pride in his voice. "So sensitive, my Evie."

His middle finger slid inside her, and Evelyn gasped, her hips bucking involuntarily. It felt so good, so much better than when she touched herself. Alexander knew exactly how to move, how to curl his finger just right to make her see stars.

"That''s it," he encouraged, adding a second finger. "Let me make you feel good."

Evelyn was lost in the sensation, in the building pressure low in her belly, when?

*Tap. Tap. Tap.*

The sound was sharp, intrusive, cutting through the haze of pleasure like a knife.

Evelyn jerked upright, nearly hitting her head on the roof of the car. Alexander moved quickly, shielding her with his body as he pulled her dress back into place.

The window rolled down with a soft hum.

Outside, silhouetted against the night, stood Marcus.

He was tall-lways had been, even when they were teenagers-nd now he seemed to loom over the car, his expression unreadable in the darkness. But Evelyn could feel his eyes on her, tracing the flush on her cheeks, the swollen state of her lips, the rapid rise and fall of her chest.

"Mom and Dad are taking their evening walk," Marcus said, his voice cool and detached. "They''ll be back in about two minutes."

His gaze shifted from Alexander to Evelyn, lingering on the disheveled state of her hair, the way her dress was still slightly askew. A faint, mocking smile touched his lips.

"Or you could just bring him inside. The rooms are soundproofed. Better than getting caught out here, don''t you think?"

Heat flooded Evelyn''s cheeks, a mixture of shame and fury. "Marcus, you asshole!"

She shoved the car door open and stumbled out, not bothering to look back at Alexander. Her heels clicked sharply against the pavement as she stormed toward the mansion''s grand entrance.

Marcus fell into step beside her, his longer legs easily matching her frantic pace. "Not even going to check on your boyfriend?" he asked conversationally as they reached the brightly lit foyer. "Might want to make sure he didn''t get scared impotent. Would be a shame for you later."

"Marcus!" Evelyn whirled to face him, all five-foot-four of her trembling with rage. "Is your brain just permanently stuck in the gutter? Can you think about anything besides sex?"

He bent to untie his shoes, not looking at her. "Says the girl who was about to get fucked in a car outside her parents'' house."

The words were so crude, so deliberately offensive, that for a moment Evelyn could only stare at him, speechless.

Then she acted on pure instinct.

Her foot came down hard on his, the pointed heel digging into the leather of his loafers with satisfying force.

"Go to hell!" she spat, the words tearing from her throat.

Without waiting for a response, she turned and fled up the sweeping staircase, her footsteps echoing through the silent mansion like gunshots.

Marcus remained in the foyer, watching her disappear around the corner. Slowly, he looked down at his shoe, at the fresh scuff mark her heel had left.

For a long moment, he just stared at it.

Then, so softly it was almost inaudible, he murmured, "Childish."

But the ghost of a smile played at the corners of his mouth as he said it.