Caught…

KAIUS ANDREI GAVRILOV

I shouldn’t have touched her.

That was the first thought that came to me the moment I stepped away from the counter.

The second was worse.

I wanted to do it again.

I left the kitchen not because she intimidated me—but because I did not trust myself to stay.

Lacey had a way of disrupting order simply by existing. By breathing in my space. By daring me with that reckless mouth and defiant stare.

Control had never been a problem for me before.

But it was now.

My bulge had twitched in my pants, and I needed to relieve myself.

I closed the door harder than necessary, the sharp sound echoing through the hallway like a warning—mostly to myself.

Lacey was everywhere—maybe not physically, but her presence had weight. I could feel it surrounding me like chaos.

I hated chaos.

Discipline. That was what Grandpa Gavrilov had drilled into me. ‘You do not indulge weakness. You dominate it.’

And yet my body refused to cooperate.

She’d walked into my house barefoot and sharp-tongued and reckless, like she’d been carved specifically to test me.

I reached for a glass, poured water, and drank it slowly. I needed something to ground me, something cold enough to remind my body who was in charge.

It didn’t work.

I cursed under my breath.

Her scent was still on my hands.

Not perfume. Not something delicate. Something warm. Familiar. Like skin after sleep.

I set the glass down and turned.

The bathroom. I grabbed my lubricant that was always on the top of my wardrobe, splattering the liquid over my palm.

The bathroom light flicked on. I braced my hands against the sink, staring at my reflection. Jaw tight. Eyes dark. Composed and on the surface.

I pulled down my pants from the waist, groaning as I released my cock from the restraining fabric.

It twitched before sprawling in my hands. I stroked my cock gently at first, shutting my eyes as the thoughts of her flooded my mind.

Red lacy lingerie.

Perfect thighs. Sea-blue eyes that melted into mine whenever she stared. Thin lips that were always moisturized. Oval-shaped face, curvy hips, and… her perfect, pointed nose.

Another heavy grunt slipped off.

I stroked harder, totally consumed by the imagination of her kneeling in front of me, lips wrapped around my cock.

She’d take it into her mouth slowly, gently, swirling her tongue around the cap to tease me.

And I’d grab a handful of her hair, pushing my cock down her throat while she gagged.

Fuck.

I couldn’t believe it. I was jerking to the thoughts of a girl I’d barely met for twenty-four hours.

Someone who was about to become my stepsister.

‘Fuck, Andrei. Of all the girls?’

I didn’t care. All I knew was she’d made me fucking hard just by inhaling her scent. Her body radiated with heat that made my muscles tense.

I felt it. I couldn't control it. Didn’t want to stop feeling the softness of her skin.

A sensation rushed through my body as my cock throbbed, a vein making it harder with each stroke and forbidden desire.

I wanted Lacey.

I wanted her everywhere and in every way possible. I could almost smell her in that room, her vanilla scent lingering in the air.

“Fuck this…” I growled softly, unable to control my spiraling thoughts.

A giggle caught my attention from behind, then a soft squeak, perhaps a slight gasp.

I turned around, knowing that wasn’t my imagination anymore. One turn and I saw her, eyes widened at me.

She was standing there.

Of course she was. Wide-eyed. Frozen. Like she hadn’t expected to find me either.

“What the—?” she started.

I moved fast, slamming the bathroom door shut before the moment could spiral further.

My heart pounded, not from embarrassment, but from fury.

I thought I’d locked the door? And what was she doing back in my room?

The sight of her made things worse for me, but I knew she hadn’t left. She had to be there—in the room.

I hissed, forcing myself to leave even when I wasn’t done. My hands guided my cock back into the boxers hanging on the rack before washing off the lubricant in my hands.

I was right when I said Lacey was still in my room. She was only a few feet away from the bed, arms crossed like she was waiting for me to return.

Her chin was lifted now, eyes burning with defiance she didn’t have the authority to carry. Her eyebrows were raised high on her forehead.

She looked smaller standing on the floor again, no longer perched on the counter, but the fire hadn’t dimmed. If anything, it had sharpened.

Most girls flinched when I raised my voice.

Lacey leaned into it.

“Are you done masturbating?” she snapped.

I arched a brow, realizing my cock was still hard, and her voice somehow made it grow again. “That shouldn’t even be your problem.”

“Well, it is now,” she shot back. “You just left me traumatized.”

Dangerous mouth. I gritted my teeth.

I took a step toward her, slow and deliberate. Not threatening. Measured.

She didn’t step back.

Interesting.

“You should learn something quickly,” I said calmly. “This house isn’t a playground. And I’m not one of your little club boys you can provoke for entertainment.”

Her lips curled. “You don’t know anything about me.”

I stopped an arm’s length away. Close enough to see the faint tremor in her fingers. Close enough to hear her breathing—not panicked, not calm. Controlled chaos.

“I know you woke up in my bed,” I said. “I know you tried to break a bottle over my head. And I know you have no sense of self-preservation. Neither can you keep your lousy mouth shut.”

Her eyes flashed. “You were in the wrong room.”

“No,” I corrected. “You were.”

Silence fell between us. Thick and heavy.

That was when it hit me.

She didn’t remember last night.

Not the way she should have.

Her gaze darted—quick and calculating, as if searching for missing pieces. Her bravado faltered for half a second before snapping back into place.

I filed it away.

“You really are an asshole,” she muttered.

A corner of my mouth twitched. Not a smile. Never that.

“You really are reckless,” I replied.

“Better than being a controlling bastard,” she hissed. “Or jerking off like a miserable, horny loser like you are.”

That did earn her a reaction.

I leaned in slightly. Not enough to touch. Enough to invade.

“You don’t know what control is,” I said quietly. “And would you rather have my cock buried within the walls of your pussy than what I was doing?”

The words slipped out before I could control them.

Her breath hitched.

There it was.

Fear.

Not the weak kind. The aware kind. The kind that recognized danger and danced toward it anyway.

“You’re a pervert,” her cheeks flushed. “Mind the words you say to me.”

“And stop trying to invade my privacy.”

“You think you scare me?” she asked.

I straightened. Stepped back. Gave her space again.

“No,” I said. “I think you scare yourself.”

That shut her up.

For a moment, neither of us spoke. Then footsteps echoed down the hall. Voices. Viktor’s laugh. Her mother’s lighter tone followed it.

Reality returned.

Lacey’s shoulders stiffened.

“Don’t talk to me like that again,” she said, quieter now. “You’re not my father. And I don’t wish to have whatever you think you have inside me.”

I met her gaze evenly. “Good.”

She frowned. “Good?”

“I don’t want to either,” I said, “because if I were, you wouldn’t still be standing here arguing.”

Her eyes widened—just slightly.

I turned away before she could respond.

“Breakfast is over,” I said. “Stay out of my room. Stay out of my business. And don’t test me again.”

“Or what?” she demanded.

I paused at the doorway.

Or what?

That was the problem.

I wasn’t sure yet.

I looked back at her over my shoulder. She was trying to look unimpressed. Trying—and failing—to hide the way her pulse jumped at her throat.

“Or you’ll learn,” I said simply, “that warnings are the kindest thing you’ll get from me.”

Her jaw tightened.

I walked out.

I didn’t look back again.