BROOKE.

His name was Nolan.

Nolan Harlow.
Thirty-one. Same last name as the one I would never take.
The stepbrother who had moved into my mother’s house the summer I turned sixteen and looked at me across the dinner table like he already knew what my mouth would look like around his cock.

I had spent years pretending the way my stomach dropped whenever he walked into a room was just teenage confusion. I had spent years telling myself the night I caught him watching me in the pool had meant nothing. Then I left for college, he moved to the opposite coast, and the dangerous, feverish thing between us...