Giving in to the taboo.

Clara’s POV

The door clicked shut behind Ethan, and the silence that followed felt heavier than the music still thumping downstairs.

I stayed exactly where I was—costume pooled at my ankles, breasts bare, thighs still slightly open. Cool air brushed over my skin and made my nipples harden further. I should have covered myself. Instead, I stood frozen, heart slamming against my ribs, watching the man in the doorway.

My stepfather didn’t speak at first. The black half-mask still covered the upper part of his face, but I could see the hard line of his jaw and the way his throat moved when he swallowed. His eyes traveled over me in one slow, deliberate sweep—from my face down to my chest, over the curve of my waist, then lower, lingering where I was still exposed and wet. The look lasted long enough that heat crawled up my neck and settled low in my stomach. The scent of my own arousal hung in the air between us, unmistakable.

When his gaze finally returned to mine, something in the air shifted.

He stepped fully into the room and closed the door behind him with a soft, final click. The lock turned. The sound was quiet and yet loud.

My pulse quickened in both fear and arousal.

He removed his own mask and set it on the dresser without looking away from me. Without it, he looked even more intense—dark eyes, the familiar strong features, the controlled expression that usually made me feel safe and now made me feel anything but.

“Do you have any idea what you were about to do?” he asked.

I swallowed. “It’s a party. People… do things at parties.”

“In my house. With the door unlocked. While your mother is downstairs. With someone you have barely seen in the last few years.”

The way he said it was calm, yet I felt the tension underneath. He took a step closer. I backed up until the edge of the bed brushed the back of my knees.

“I wasn’t thinking about that,” I said. My voice came out thinner than I wanted.

“No. You weren’t.” Another step. “You were going to let him fuck you while fifty people drank and laughed one floor below. While I was in the same house.”

The way he said “I” made something twist low in my belly. I hated that my body still reacted to him—even now, even like this. The ache between my legs hadn’t faded. If anything, the confrontation while I was barely dressed made it worse. I could feel how wet I still was, the slickness on my inner thighs, and I feared he could see or smell it and know how much of a perverted slut I was.

I still hadn’t made any move to cover myself because I was too frozen to move.

Daniel stopped directly in front of me. Close enough that I had to tilt my head back to meet his eyes. Close enough that I could smell the faint trace of his cologne mixed with the heat of his skin.

“Look at me,” he ordered.

I did.

“Is that what you needed tonight?” he asked, quieter now. “Someone to take the edge off?”

The directness of the question stole the air from my lungs. There was nothing fatherly about the way he asked that question. I could have lied. I should have lied. Instead, the truth slipped out before I could stop it.

“Yes.”

Something dark moved behind his eyes. He reached up and, very slowly, slid my cat-ear headband and mask off. Cool air touched my face. Without the mask I felt completely exposed in a different way.

His thumb brushed once across my lower lip. My breath hitched.

“You’re shaking,” he observed.

“I’m embarrassed.”

“Are you?” His voice dropped lower. “Or are you still wet from him… or does it perhaps have anything to do with the fact that I’m here?”

The crude honesty of the question made my thighs press together. I didn’t answer. I didn’t need to. The truth was written all over my face and in the way my body leaned a fraction closer to him involuntarily.

Daniel’s hand traced from my mouth to the side of my neck, fingers warm and firm. He didn’t squeeze. He just held me there, thumb resting against my pulse possessively.

“I know I’m your father, but I’ve watched you avoid me for months,” he began. “At first, I had thought it’s because you simply didn’t like me and were wary of me, but then I looked closer…”

“I’ve seen the way you look at me when you think I’m not paying attention. And tonight I watched you invite another man up to your room because you thought it would make the wanting stop.”

My face burned. “You don’t know what you’re talking about.”

“Don’t you?”

His other hand settled on my waist, large and steady, then slid lower. The heat of his palm burned against my bare hip. I should have pushed him away. Every logical part of me screamed to end this before it went any further. He was my mother’s husband, and this was twisted and plain wrong. Instead I stood there and let him touch me, pulse racing and my pussy throbbing painfully even though he hadn’t touched me there.

“Tell me to leave,” he said, voice rough now. “Tell me to walk out of this room and we’ll pretend this never happened.”

I opened my mouth.

No words came out.

Daniel’s eyes searched mine for another long moment. Then he exhaled slowly, as if coming to a decision he had been fighting.

“Also,” he said quietly, leaning in until his mouth was close to my ear, “don’t you think it’s high time we finish the conversation you started the day you let that towel fall?”