Trick of the Flesh

Caleb: I try to stay out of his way. Miguel Veracruz is chaos with a grin, a predator I’ve learned to steer clear of. But tonight—Halloween night—he’s different. He’s stalking me, shadowing my every move, whispering words that make my blood thrum and my body yearn for him. I tell myself I hate him. I tell myself I can resist. But when he corners me in the dark, there’s no denying the heat curling through my veins, no stopping the panic that tastes like arousal.

Miguel: I see the way he shivers when I step too close. Caleb is mine to hunt, mine to break, mine to ruin. He hates it—oh, he hates it—but that only makes it sweeter. Every protest, every tremor, every gasp of fear is a confession I drag out, piece by filthy piece. Tonight, even though I hide behind this mask—I am the one thing he can’t escape. His stepbrother. And when he finally begs, I’ll remind him why you can’t trick what the flesh wants.