Chapter 2 : Brother''s Help

The door slammed shut behind her with a satisfying finality.

Evelyn leaned against the cool wood, her breath coming in ragged gasps. The confrontation with Marcus had left her trembling- mixture of fury, humiliation, and something else she couldn''t quite name. Something that made her skin feel too tight, her blood too hot.

After a moment, she pushed away from the door and walked to the window. Alexander''s Mercedes was still parked in the driveway, a dark silhouette against the night. She could see the faint glow of his phone screen illuminating his face as he sat behind the wheel.

She raised a hand, waving him off. *Go home*, she mouthed, though she knew he couldn''t see her.

Her phone buzzed almost immediately.

**Alexander:** You okay?

**Evelyn:** Fine. Just go. I''ll see you Saturday.

**Alexander:** All day? Anything I want?

Her fingers hovered over the screen. The memory of his hands on her body, his fingers inside her, sent a fresh wave of heat through her. She typed quickly, her cheeks burning.

**Evelyn:** Yes.

**Alexander:** I want you so bad, Evie.

She stared at the words, her throat tightening. *I want you too*, she started to type, then deleted it. Too desperate. Too revealing.

Instead, she tossed the phone onto her bed and headed for the bathroom.

The shower was a relief. Hot water sluiced over her skin, washing away the sweat and tension of the evening. But it couldn''t wash away the memory of Marcus''s mocking smile, or the way his eyes had raked over her disheveled state. Nor could it wash away the lingering ache between her thighs-he ache Alexander had started and left unfinished.

By ten o''clock, she was out of the shower, wrapped in a soft towel, her hair damp against her shoulders. She sat at her vanity, staring at her reflection without really seeing it.

The house was quiet. Too quiet.

Her mother had left for her business trip that morning- two-week stint in Paris for a fashion show. Richard was probably still at the office, buried in whatever multi-million dollar deal required his attention tonight. And Marcus...

Marcus was in his room, no doubt plotting new ways to torment her.

Evelyn''s gaze drifted to the bottom drawer of her dresser.

A strange restlessness had taken hold of her, a buzzing under her skin that refused to be ignored. It had started in the car with Alexander, that building pressure low in her belly, and it hadn''t gone away. If anything, it had grown stronger, fed by the adrenaline of her confrontation with Marcus.

She stood up, the towel slipping slightly as she crossed the room. Her fingers found the drawer pull, hesitated, then pulled it open.

At the very back, hidden beneath a stack of winter sweaters, was a small wooden box. She lifted it out, the wood smooth and cool against her palms. Inside, nestled in a bed of velvet, was the vibrator she''d bought on a whim six months ago- discreet, rose-gold bullet she''d told herself was an act of feminist self-care.

Her fingers closed around it. The metal was cool at first, but quickly warmed to her touch.

Evelyn returned to her bed, slipping beneath the covers. The house was silent except for the distant hum of the air conditioning. Moonlight streamed through the window, painting silver stripes across her floor.

She took a deep breath, then let her hand slide beneath the waistband of her panties.

The first touch was electric. Her body was already sensitized from earlier, and the gentle vibration against her clit made her gasp. She closed her eyes, letting the sensation wash over her.

It wasn''t enough.

She increased the intensity, the buzz becoming a steady thrum that matched the pounding of her heart. Her hips began to move of their own accord, rocking against her hand, seeking more pressure, more friction.

In her mind, she tried to conjure Alexander-is handsome face, his warm hands, the way he''d kissed her. But the image kept slipping, replaced by another: Marcus standing in the driveway, tall and imposing, his eyes dark with something that wasn''t quite anger.

*You look like you need to be fucked.*

The words echoed in her head, crude and shocking. And instead of repelling her, they sent a fresh jolt of heat straight to her core.

Evelyn''s breath hitched. Her fingers moved faster, the vibrator pressed firmly against her clit. She was close, so close, the tension coiling tight in her belly?

The door opened.

Evelyn''s eyes flew open. For a moment, she thought she was imagining things, that the pleasure had conjured a hallucination.

But no.

Marcus stood in the doorway, leaning casually against the frame. He''d changed out of his dinner clothes and now wore simple gray sweatpants and a white t-shirt that stretched across his broad shoulders. His hands were tucked into his pockets, and he was watching her with an expression she couldn''t read.

How long had he been standing there?

Her heart hammered against her ribs. She yanked the covers up to her chin, but it was too late. He''d seen everything-he flush on her cheeks, the rapid rise and fall of her chest, the way her body had been arching into her own touch.

"Get out," she managed, her voice trembling.

"I knocked. Twice." Marcus''s voice was calm, almost conversational. "You were... preoccupied."

He took a step into the room, then another. The door swung shut behind him with a soft click.

Evelyn''s grip on the covers tightened. "What do you want?"

"To deliver a message." He stopped at the foot of her bed, looking down at her. "Mom''s trip has been extended. Could be a month."

"So?" The word came out sharper than she intended.

"Dad''s working on the Singapore acquisition. He''ll be at the office most nights." Marcus took another step forward, his shadow falling across her. "Which means for the foreseeable future, it''s just you and me in this house."

He leaned down, bracing his hands on either side of her hips. "So, little sister... be nice to me."

Evelyn''s breath caught. He was so close she could smell the clean scent of his soap, see the faint stubble along his jaw. "I know. Now get out."

"You don''t look well." His voice dropped, taking on a false note of concern. "Are you feverish?"

He reached out, his hand moving toward her forehead.

"Don''t touch me!" She batted his hand away, the movement jerky and panicked.

In her haste, the covers slipped.

They pooled around her waist, leaving her upper body completely exposed. The cool air hit her skin, making her nipples tighten instantly. She was still holding the vibrator, the rose-gold metal gleaming in the moonlight.

For a long moment, neither of them moved.

Then Marcus''s eyes darkened. "I told you," he said, his voice rough. "You don''t look well."

Before she could react, he grabbed the edge of the comforter and yanked it down.

The sheet followed.

Evelyn lay completely naked before him, her legs splayed, the vibrator still pressed against her swollen clit. She was wet-o wet the evidence glistened on her inner thighs.

The air left her lungs in a rush. Shame, anger, and a terrifying, undeniable thrill warred within her.

Marcus''s gaze traveled slowly down her body, taking in every detail. When his eyes returned to hers, they were black with something primal. "My little sister," he murmured, the words barely audible. "So lonely."

The vibrator was still buzzing, a faint, insistent hum in the silent room.

Evelyn''s mind went blank. She should scream. She should throw something at him. She should do anything but lie here, exposed and vulnerable.

"Get out," she whispered, the threat sounding pathetic even to her own ears. "Or I''ll scream."

Marcus didn''t move. Instead, he reached down and plucked the vibrator from her trembling fingers. He turned it off, the sudden silence deafening.

Then he pressed the cool metal tip against her clit.

Evelyn jerked, a gasp tearing from her throat.

"That''s not enough," he said, his voice low and rough. "Let me help you."

His other hand came down, his fingers sliding through her wetness before pushing inside her with a single, smooth stroke.

Evelyn''s back arched off the bed, her mouth falling open in a soundless cry. His fingers were thicker than the vibrator, longer, and they filled her in a way that was both shocking and unbearably good.

"See?" Marcus murmured, his breath warm against her ear as he leaned closer. "I can help."

He began to move his fingers, a slow, deliberate rhythm that had her clutching at the sheets, her hips rising to meet each thrust.

And in that moment, with his fingers inside her and his eyes watching her every reaction, Evelyn knew she was in trouble.

Deep, dangerous trouble.