6.

It had to be a dream.

Please tell me it’s a dream.

A nightmare.

How in the world did the guy I had the best sex with become my stepbrother?!

It was supposed to be a probability of zero, maybe even negative numbers, but here I was, sitting at a dining table so extravagant it looked like something out of a movie.

And there he was, Ryder, sitting across from me, his dark hair perfectly messy in a way that made me want to pull it, his lips curled into that same smirk I remembered all too well.

His eyes didn’t leave me, not for a second.

I tried my best not to blush. Not to give out the signal that we knew each other.

Or the fact that I had cleared at those muscles. Moaned and screamed his name as he pounded into me.

Okay stop it Evie.

Not cool.

“So,” he said, his voice smooth as he leaned back in his chair, clearly enjoying himself. “Who are you?”

I blinked, my brain short-circuiting under his gaze. “I’m… uh…um…”

“Evelyn,” my mum said quickly, cutting in before I embarrassed myself further.

“Evelyn,” Ryder repeated, his smirk growing. “And?”

I cleared my throat, sitting up straighter. “Everyone calls me Evie.”

“Evie,” he said slowly, like he was savoring the sound of it. “Nice to meet you… Again.”

Again? Did he know? Did he remember?

I mean he would right? But I just hope no one buys into that last statement.

“Where have you been?” Riley cut in, her sharp voice breaking the moment.

I glanced at her, taking in the contrast between her platinum blonde hair and Ryder’s dark, almost-black locks. They had the same bone structure, the same beautiful sharp eyes, but everything about their energy was different.

“Probably dyed,” I thought, staring at Riley’s hair before catching myself.

“I’ve been busy,” Ryder said, not even glancing at her. His eyes stayed locked on me, his smirk firmly in place.

Riley huffed, crossing her arms. “Of course. Busy being Ryder.”

He ignored her, standing and casually making his way around the table. To my absolute horror, he sat down beside me, his leg brushing against mine as he leaned back, looking completely at ease.

I was not at ease.

“Ryder,” my mum said, her voice overly cheerful as she tried to steer the conversation. “I’ve heard wonderful things about your football career.”

“Thank you,” he said, flashing her a polite smile before turning his attention back to me.

I avoided his gaze, focusing on the growing crowd of business associates filtering into the room. My mum gave me a pointed look, her eyes flicking toward my lap.

Napkin. Right.

I quickly unfolded the napkin and placed it on my thigh, feeling like I was under a spotlight.

Dinner was served, course after course of food that looked more like art than actual meals. I pushed it around my plate, my appetite completely gone.

Ryder, on the other hand, seemed completely at ease. He talked about football, and the men at the table hung on his every word.

“We’ve been working hard this season,” Ryder said, his voice confident and smooth. “The Ravencrest team is in top shape. Last game? Took us to the finals.”

A round of applause erupted, a few men clapping him on the back, and my mum practically beamed.

And then it happened.

I felt it.

His hand.

Warm and rough, it rested on my thigh, his fingers brushing lightly against the fabric of my dress.

My entire body went rigid, my fork clattering against my plate as I coughed sharply.

The room went silent, all eyes turning to me.

“Sorry,” I said quickly, reaching for my water glass, my cheeks burning. “Wrong pipe.”

My mum’s eyes narrowed, her lips pressed into a thin line. I could feel her disapproval radiating across the table.

I shot a glance at Ryder, who looked completely unbothered.

If anything, he seemed amused.

And his hand? It started to move.

Slowly, his fingers crept higher, brushing against my bare skin in a way that made my stomach tighten.

My pussy clenched involuntarily, and I bit my lip, willing myself not to react.

I placed my hand on his, stopping him from going any further.

He glanced at me, his smirk deepening as he flexed his fingers slightly under my palm.

The rest of dinner passed in a blur of forced smiles and awkward small talk. I barely registered the conversations around me, too focused on the heat of Ryder’s hand and the infuriating way he seemed completely unaffected.

He punched me before finally removing his hands from my thigh and I could finally breathe.

---

After dinner, the guests moved into the sitting room for coffee and drinks. I stayed near the edge of the room, trying to blend into the background and avoid Ryder’s gaze.

But, of course, he found me.

Without a word, he grabbed my hand, his grip firm but not harsh, and started leading me away from the group.

“Where are we going?” I hissed, but he didn’t answer.

He led me out onto the balcony, the cool night air hitting my skin as he shut the door behind us.

I turned to face him, my heart pounding in my chest.

He leaned against the door, his arms crossed, his smirk firmly in place.

“What…a coincidence,” he said, his voice low and teasing.

I stared at him, my mind racing, my words caught somewhere between panic and disbelief.

Ryder.

The hot one-night stand stranger.

My stepbrother.

This was going to be a disaster.