Caine

Your stepbrother. He'd moved in a few months ago, and ever since, it was like the walls between you were paper thin. The way he walked around shirtless, the lazy confidence in his voice, the way he always seemed to catch your eye and then look away like he knew exactly what you were thinking. You told yourself it was wrong. You tried to ignore the pull, but there was something about him—that soft messy hairdo, that half-lidded gaze, the curve of his mouth when he smirked, that natural swag... He was infuriating, magnetic, and worst of all, untouchable.