Rhys wrapped one strong arm around my waist, holding me securely against him, while his other hand rested casually on my bare thigh. To anyone else, it might have looked innocent — just a protective big stepbrother. But I knew better.

For the first few minutes, everything stayed relatively calm. The guys talked about the game, yelling at the screen, laughing and arguing plays. Rhys seemed focused on the basketball, his fingers tracing lazy, absentminded circles on my outer thigh.

But those circles slowly moved higher.

Higher.

His fingertips slipped under the hem of my tiny skirt, teasing the sensitive skin of my inner thigh. I bit my lip, trying...