He Saw Me Naked

~Ava

I wiggled my ass a little extra as I stormed toward the front door, the short skirt riding up just enough to feel rebellious.

The alarm's chime still echoed in my ears, but Adrian’s whisper, "Guess my wife's home" had lit a fire under my skin.

Teaser. Tormentor. I yanked the door open with more force than necessary, plastering on a smile for Mom.

She stood there, keys jingling, her nurse scrubs rumpled from a long shift, curly hair tied back in a messy ponytail.

Same old Elena Thompson, but her eyes sparkled with that new married glow.

"Ava! Baby!" She pulled me into a hug, but I kept it stiff, unpleasant, arms loose around her shoulders, body language screaming what the hell.

She pulled back, frowning, her hands on my arms. "What's wrong? You look like I ran over your favorite sneakers."

I crossed my arms, the crop top shifting uncomfortably. "Oh, nothing. Just, you know, surprise move into a freaking mansion with your secret husband. The one you mentioned in passing as hot guy from work. Would've been nice to get a heads up before the kidnapping vibes hit."

Mom winced, genuine apology flooding her face.

She stepped inside, kicking off her shoes in the foyer, the door clicking shut behind her. Adrian lingered in the background by the dining table, all casual observer, but I felt his eyes on me.

“I'm so sorry, sweetie. The house sale happened fast, our old place went under contract last week. I wanted to tell you in person, make it special. Adrian's been dying to meet you properly. This is our fresh start."

"It's fine," I muttered, waving it off even though my gut twisted.

Fresh start? More like plunged into a den of temptation. The old apartment's creaky floors and tiny kitchen felt like a lifetime ago, cozy, predictable.

This palace? A glittering trap.

She brightened, looping her arm through mine, leading me toward the living area. "How's school? Grades out yet? Spill."

I hesitated, the F in Calculus burning like acid. No way was I admitting total failure in front of Mr. Sinful over there.

“Eight A's and one F. But get this, Professor Harlan probably botched the marking. I'm not a math whiz, calculations aren't my forte, but an F? Nah, at least a C. I'm hitting him up next week to fix it."

Mom nodded sympathetically, squeezing my hand. "That's my girl, advocate for yourself. You'll sort it out." Out of the corner of my eye, Damien smiled through the whole exchange, that infuriating curve of his lips, like he knew secrets I didn't.

Leaning against the wall, arms crossed over his broad chest, he watched us with amusement. Bastard.

Then, as if on cue, Mom turned, gesturing grandly. "Oh! Ava, meet Adrian Blackwood, your new stepdad. Adrian, this is my brilliant daughter, Ava. She's the one who keeps me on my toes."

He pushed off the wall, extending a hand like we were strangers at a cocktail party. "Pleasure to meet you, Ava."

His grip was firm, warm, thumb brushing the back of my hand in a way that sent sparks shooting up my arm.

As if he hadn't just pressed his erection against me minutes ago. As if he hadn't stared into my boobs by the TV.

I frowned, yanking my hand back a tad too sharply. "Yeah, sure." The pretense grated, playing first meet when he'd already hauled me here like property.

Mom didn't notice, chattering about dinner remnants, but I shot him a glare. He just smirked, unfazed.

He greeted my mum well and with an annoying kiss that took forever.

I spun on my heel and bolted upstairs to my room, slamming the door harder than intended. Safe. For now.

My bathroom called like a sanctuary. I stripped down, peeling off the crop top and skirt, letting them pool on the tile.

Hot water cascaded over me in the rainfall shower, steam fogging the glass. I scrubbed away the day's chaos, the failed grade, the magnetic pull of Adrian, Mom's oblivious joy.

Naked felt right, freeing. I hated clothes when alone, they were prisons, constricting the raw me.

Back in the old apartment, I'd roam bare after showers, dancing to music or just breathing free. Mom knew, she'd laugh, toss a robe my way, but never judged. "Your body, your rules," she'd say.

Toweled dry, I didn't bother dressing. The room's AC hummed softly, cool air kissing my skin, nipples pebbling.

I paced, mind racing. Adrian's touch, his scent, that bulge of his trouser, God, the memory alone made a heat pool between my thighs.

Stepdaughter taboo? Whatever, I don't care. He was fire, and I was dry tinder.

The door creaked open. No knock. Instinct screamed cover up! But I froze, heart slamming.

Something told me to dive for the bed, snatch the duvet. Too late. Mom knows my quirks, sure, but the face peering in wasn't hers. Adrian.

Those gray eyes widened a bit, then darkened, raking over my naked form shamelessly. From my flushed cheeks down the curve of my breasts, over my hips, to the apex of my thighs.

He didn't flinch, didn't avert. Just stared, bold as brass.

I snatched the duvet finally, clutching it to my chest, but not before he got an eyeful. "What the, get out!" I hissed, voice shaky.

He leaned against the doorframe, casual, like walking in on nudity was Tuesday. "Your mom said to tell you to go to bed early. Workout tomorrow, gym's waiting. Don't be late." His voice was even, but laced with that rumble.

Then he turned to leave.

I breathed heavy, relief mixing with fury, the duvet slipping slightly as my arms trembled. But the door opened again, creaked and he poked his head back in, eyes gleaming wicked. "Nice shape, Ava." Whispered, like a dirty secret.

Then gone.

I bolted up, naked feet slapping marble as I twisted the lock with fumbling fingers. Click.

Heart pounding, I slumped against the door, breath ragged. The audacity to stare at his stepdaughter, naked, in his own house, and not bat an eye.

No shock, no apology. Just hunger in those eyes. Mom's husband. Taboo didn't begin to cover it. Society's rules? Screw them. I wanted him.

I craved the burn of his hands, the press of his body, the sin his body promised. He was forbidden fruit, and I was starving.

Sliding down to the floor, duvet forgotten, I looked down. My thighs glistened, wet with arousal. Just from his stare? From the memory of his voice, his presence invading my space?

My fingers trembled as I touched myself lightly, a gasp escaping. Wet. Achingly so. The man had unraveled me without a single touch. I rocked back, head thumping the door, fighting the urge to chase the high right there.

No. Not yet. Tomorrow's workout loomed, more proximity, more temptation.

Sleep came fitful, dreams filled with gray eyes and muscular arms.