Lahat ng Kabanata ng RED HOT STORIES (A COLLECTION OF ST*AMY STORIES): Kabanata 201 - Kabanata 210

LILA'S POVI never thought a morning jog would change so much for me.At first, running was just my escape a way to clear my head, to keep my body moving when my mind felt too heavy. But lately, it had become more than that. It had become a chance to see her. Naya.Every time I caught sight of her on the street, standing awkwardly in her running shoes, I felt my chest warm. She didn’t even know how much she’d started to mean to me.The day I stopped her from falling, when she stumbled into my arms, something inside me shifted. It wasn’t just instinct to hold her it was need. I felt her against me, her weight, the heat of her skin, and it left a mark I couldn’t shake.Since then, I had been watching her more closely. Not in a way that would scare her, but in a way I couldn’t help. Her laugh, her nervous fidgets, the way her eyes darted away whenever I caught her looking at me it was all so painfully sweet.And the way she blushed when I touched her wrist? That told me more than words e

LILA'S POVI had been holding it in for too long.Every look, every touch, every smile naya gave me it all stayed with me long after she walked away. She didn’t know how much she had started to mean to me.how important she was starting to get to me.She didn’t know that her nervous glances and soft laughter kept me awake at night.And yet, I could see it now the way she looked at me had changed. There was something in her eyes. Something questioning. Something wanting.a desire that yet can't be explained.I just didn’t know if she was ready.That evening, I found her sitting on her porch, hugging her knees, her hair falling in loose strands around her face. The sun was dipping low, painting the sky in shades of orange and pink.“Hey,” I said softly, stepping closer.She looked up, startled at first, then smiled faintly. “Hey, Lila.”I sat beside her, close enough that our shoulders almost touched. The air between us was thick, buzzing with the same energy that had been building for wee

Clara’s POVThe night after everything, I couldn’t stop smiling.Every time I thought of her lips on mine, of her hands exploring me, of the way she whispered my name, my body flushed all over again. But more than the heat, it was the safety I felt like I had finally found a place where I belonged.right there I knew I wasn't confused again as to who I am what my preferences were.i knew I liked girls and not just girls but Lila.I lay awake in my bed, staring at the ceiling, wishing I was in her arms instead. By midnight, I couldn’t take it anymore. I pulled on a hoodie, slipped out of the house, and walked quietly across the street to her home.hoping no one saw me cause if they did my journey was so far cancelled.everywhere was dark, everyone was sure asleep already.My heart raced as I knocked on her window. She appeared moments later, her hair messy, her eyes sleepy. When she saw me, she smiled like I was the only person in the world that mattered so much to her.“naya,” she whisper

Jason's pov The following afternoon, I was sprawled across my leather sofa with a cigar smoldering between my fingers when the sound of the elevator doors opening carried down the hall. I wasn’t expecting company, and my “companions” had already been dismissed hours ago. The footsteps were light but purposeful, not the clack of stiletto heels, not the shuffle of Daniel’s heavier steps.I sat up.And then I saw her.Luca.She walked into my penthouse like she owned the air in it. A tall glass container of fresh herbs cradled in her arms, her hair tied back in a messy bun that somehow looked deliberate, strands falling around her face. She wasn’t dressed for seduction no short skirt, no plunging neckline, no heels. Just jeans, sneakers, and a plain white T-shirt that hugged her curves without trying.she already looked so beautiful without a try.She didn’t even look at me. She strode straight into the kitchen, set down the herbs, and began unpacking knives and ingredients like she’d be

Jason's pov The kitchen had never been my territory. It was Daniel’s domain pots clanging, steam rising, knives flashing under his control. I only walked in for food, a drink, or sometimes a casual flirtation with whichever maid I had my eye on.But since Luca arrived, I couldn’t keep out of it.Every morning I found myself there, leaning on the counter like a man starved, watching her hands move over vegetables, meat, dough whatever she touched turned into art. She moved with efficiency, but also with grace, as though her body knew the rhythm of the kitchen better than it knew the rhythm of rest.And I? I was obsessed with the rhythm of her.The way her hair slipped from its tie, the way her shirt stretched when she reached for a pot, the subtle roll of her hips when she shifted from counter to stove. I caught myself staring at the arch of her back, the curve of her waist, the way flour clung to her skin.I’d had women in every pose, every angle, every level of desperation. But with