All Chapters of Shared Desires: Chapter 21 - Chapter 30

I touch the coffee maker like it’s some sacred relic, even though it still holds the crusty remains of the last tragic attempt at caffeine—three days ago. The apartment reeks of extinguished candles, stale perfume, and crumbs from cold pizza that should’ve been thrown out yesterday… or maybe last week. I’m in pajamas—or what’s left of them—when the doorbell rings like a scream.Once.Twice.Three times.“Caaaat! Open up, come on!” a familiar voice yells through the door.My stomach drops to the soles of my feet.Lucía. My dear, eternally sunny older sister. And from the high-pitched squeals that follow her voice, she’s not alone.I rush to the door as if I could clean up my mess in three seconds flat. Too late. Way too late.“Surprise, surprise!” she beams, standing there like a domestic goddess, holding a backpack in one hand and little Martín in the other.Behind her, Lola storms in wearing a glitter-covered T-shirt and waving around a decapitated doll like a war trophy. She throws

Returning to the living room feels like stepping into an entirely different reality. One where the lights are bright, the TV hums with cartoons in the background, and my nephews’ bare feet leave cookie crumbs all over the couch. There’s my sister, sitting with a mug of tea in hand, one leg crossed, eyes already sharp and ready to dissect me.John walks in behind me—shirt wrinkled, but smile perfectly intact. He always knows how to land on his feet.“Hi,” he says, with that innate charm that makes him irresistible to mothers, grandmothers, and personal assistants alike. “I’m John. Cat’s boyfriend.”Cat’s boyfriend.I suddenly want to both laugh and cry. My sister raises her eyebrows with record-breaking speed.“The boyfriend?” she repeats, looking from him to me with that crooked smile she used to wear whenever she caught me hiding cigarettes as a teenager.“Yes,” he answers, like it’s the most obvious thing in the world. As if we’d spent the last few days sending each other dog memes

I’m crazy.I’m fucking crazy.I arrive ten minutes early, wearing dark sunglasses and a black dress far too tight to be casual.He’s already there, leaning against the wall like time stopped just to look at him.White shirt, sunglasses, that crooked smile of someone who knows he’s going to break something today.“Hello, witch,” he says, taking off his glasses.His gaze cuts through me.We sit.The darkest table, the most hidden.And for a while, we play the game of “just talking.”“How are you?” he asks, elbow resting on the table like he doesn’t already know the answer.“Fine,” I lie.My voice sounds tense. My body, worse.He laughs low.“Don’t look at me like that, Demon.”“Like what?”“Like you know me.”“Cat… I don’t know you.But I smell you.I read you.And last night, when I closed my eyes, I knew you weren’t alone.”I say nothing.I can’t.Because that’s his superpower: making me feel naked, even with my clothes on.His knee brushes against mine.Once.Twice.Then it stays the

I wait for him in the same place as always.A silly excuse got me out of the house.A simple message was enough to ignite the fire now burning in my chest.Damon is leaning against his bike, that sideways smile not just looking at me… but devouring me.“You’re late,” he says, though he doesn’t sound annoyed.He’s used to being feared.I walk toward him. I don’t reply. I have no words—only want, doubt, fear, desire. All at once.He knows.His large, rough, confident hands wrap around my waist and pull me into him.His mouth brushes against mine, but he doesn’t kiss me.He tempts me.He punishes me.“Still playing this little game?” he murmurs against my lips, his breath hot, his tone cocky. “John can’t give you what I do. You know it. You feel it. You need it.”My heart pounds like it's screaming for me to run.But my body curves toward him on instinct.It’s madness.It’s Damon.He kisses me with fury, like a man marked by a need darker than sex.His hands squeeze my thighs, my back, m

I don’t even know what excuse I make this time.I just know my steps lead me to him.As if my body has taken over, as if guilt alone is no longer enough to stop the fire burning between my thighs.This time it’s not about doubt.It’s need.I find him waiting for me at the same run-down motel.Red lights, heavy curtains, the promise of a night that shouldn’t happen again...But it does.Over and over.Damon is lying on the bed, shirtless, arms behind his head, and that damn glint in his eyes burns me from across the room.When he sees me walk in, he smiles.But it’s not a kind smile.It’s hunger.“I knew you’d come back,” he says, without moving.He doesn’t even sit up.He waits.I close the door behind me.Swallow hard.My hands tremble.Not from fear.From anticipation.From desire.“Don’t say anything,” I whisper, even though I know it’s useless.He never shuts up.“Are you wet for him… or for me?” he asks, already standing in front of me, pressing his body against mine like a delic