Cursed To Crave My Foster Brothers Lustful Touch

Aria hesitated outside the door to Lucien's chambers, her palms sweaty as she clutched the cleaning supplies.

The weight of the maid's words lingered in her mind, and the knot of dread in her stomach tightened with every second. Lucien hated her, always had, and any interaction with him usually ended in humiliation or scorn. Besides she couldn't fathom being in the same room, with her adopted brother who was known for his teasing and indulging in sexual desires.

But she had no choice. Taking a deep breath, she pushed open the door and stepped inside.

The room was dimly lit, the heavy curtains drawn shut, letting only slivers of light seep through. It was immaculate, yet there were small traces of use—a damp towel draped over the chair, boots discarded near the bed.

The faint scent of cedarwood and soap hung in the air, evidence that he had recently been here. She exhaled slowly, hoping that he had left or wouldn't return while she worked.

Carefully, she began her task, dusting the furniture and arranging items back into place. Her movements were quiet and efficient, her goal to finish quickly and leave unnoticed. She was midway through cleaning the desk when she heard the sound of a door opening behind her.

Her body froze, every muscle tensing as soft footsteps padded into the room. She turned slowly, her breath catching in her throat.

Lucien stood there, a towel wrapped loosely around his waist, droplets of water sliding down his toned chest and arms. His damp hair clung to his forehead, giving him an uncharacteristically disheveled appearance. His sharp, piercing gaze locked onto her, and the air between them grew heavy with tension.

"Well, then," he drawled, a grin curling on his lips. Accompanied by a frown "Look who's decided to invade my private space."

Aria's cheeks flushed, and she quickly lowered her gaze, gripping the cleaning rag tightly in her hands. "I-I was sent to clean your room," she stammered, her voice barely above a whisper.

Lucien chuckled, a low, mocking sound that made her skin prickle. "Of course you were. I forgot that you're currently a maid, But I don't recall asking for your services."

"I didn't have a choice," she said quietly, trying to keep her voice steady. "Please, I'll just finish and leave."

"Finish and leave?" he repeated, taking a step closer. "How bold of you to assume you can do anything in my room without my permission."

Aria flinched, her fingers trembling as she resumed dusting. "I won't take long."

Lucien crossed his arms, leaning casually against the bedpost as he watched her. There was a glint of amusement in his eyes, but also something darker, something that made her pulse quicken with unease.

"You're quite brave," he said, his voice laced with sarcasm. "Walking into my space like you belong here."

"I don't—"

"Enough," he interrupted, his tone sharp. "I'm not interested in your excuses."

Aria bit her lip, her heart hammering in her chest. She forced herself to focus on her task, but his presence was overwhelming, his gaze like a weight pressing down on her.

Lucien let the silence stretch, his grin widening as he noted her discomfort. Finally, he moved to sit on the edge of the bed, the towel riding low on his hips. He leaned back slightly, his posture relaxed but his eyes fixed intently on her.

"Come here," he said suddenly, his voice low and commanding.

Aria froze, her hands clutching the rag tightly. "W-What?"

"You heard me," he said, tilting his head slightly. "Come here."

She hesitated, her instincts screaming at her to refuse, but the look in his eyes left no room for argument. Reluctantly, she set down the rag and approached him, her steps slow and uncertain.

"Faster," he said, a hint of impatience in his tone.

Her heart pounded as she stopped a few steps away from him, unsure of what he wanted.

Lucien gestured lazily. "Closer."

She stepped forward, her knees almost brushing against his.

"Good," he said, his voice softer now, almost a purr. "You're not completely useless."

Aria swallowed hard, her gaze fixed on the floor.

"Look at me," he said, his tone leaving no room for refusal.

She raised her eyes reluctantly, meeting his sharp gaze.

"Massage my shoulders," he said, his grin returning. "Since you're already here, you might as well make yourself useful."

Aria blinked, her lips parting in shock. "I... I don't think—"

"Did I ask for your opinion?" he interrupted, arching a brow. "Do it."

Her hands trembled as she stepped closer, her fingertips brushing against his damp skin. Aria's hands trembled as they hovered above Lucien's shoulders. She hesitated, but his voice, low and rough, cut through the quiet.

"Don't stop now," he murmured without turning, the tension in his words unmistakable.

Her breath hitched, and she pressed her palms against his skin. The heat of him was startling, his muscles taut and hard under her hesitant touch. As her fingers began to knead, she felt him exhale sharply, his broad shoulders shifting slightly.

Lucien remained silent, but his body betrayed him. The way his muscles flexed and released under her touch, the faint shudder in his breath, and the way his head tilted forward—it all told her she wasn't imagining the heat crackling between them.

"Am I doing it right?" Aria whispered, unsure if she was asking about the massage or something far deeper.

Lucien chuckled low, the sound rumbling through his chest. "If you have to ask, then it seems you're not paying attention." With that he turned slightly to look at her his eyes gleaming with desire.