Semua Bab Dirty and Sinful Collection (erotica) : Bab 171 - Bab 180

7CalliaSalt air clung to my skin. Not the heavy wetness of the sea below, but something lighter and a bit dry. Stone warmed by sun pressed beneath my feet. There were pale cliffts, and the scent of rosemary, olive wood and distant fires wafted through my nose. My breath caught.Thalassara.My city, rising golden against the horizon. I looked around, my eyes taking in the tide-marked streets, the lattice of the merchant stalls, the high arches of the temple of Thalor and, gods, the laughter. The children were racing past with salt-stiff ribbons. Women balancing baskets of glinting fish. My people were alive. Without me.I turned slowly, my heart thudding. The breeze teased loose strands from my braif and the weight of my ceremonial collar was gone. I was wearing linen again. I could see the sky again. I was not underwater. I was not anyone’s bride.“Callia?”That voice sounded familiar. They could see me. My heart skipped. I looked up and saw him. Dorian. He was looking taller than I

1Lena. I didn’t expect Micheal to be home when I arrived.The key turned easily, the door swung open, and there he was, leaning against the kitchen counter like someone posing for an understated cologne ad. He was on button-down shirt, sleeves rolled to the elbows, bare feet on the wood floor. He as calm and focused in that quiet, adult-man-who-knows-too-much kind of way.“Hi,” I said, voice scraping the bottom of my throat. I was suddenly aware of the fact that my bra strap was slipping off my shoulder. This was the second time meeting my mother’s new husband. I didn’t really know what exactly to expect.He didn’t smile. He nodded. “You’re early.”“I didn’t realize traffic would be so forgiving.”He nodded again. He was always like this. Efficient. Controlled. Unreadable. The first time I met him, on their wedding day, I remember thinking that this man has secrets. I just didn’t think I’d be unpacking my things under his roof one day.Mom had done the arranging. “Just a few months,”

3Lena. The shower always cleared my head. At least, it used to.Now it just steamed it up.The moment I turned off the water, I stood there in the silence, heart ticking too fast again, thinking about last night. About Michael’s hands on my hips. His mouth on mine, and the way he’d kissed me like he was starved, and then stopped like it killed him.We hadn’t spoken about it, not one word.He’d been gone this morning before I even made it to the kitchen. He had left a note on the counter that said: Meeting downtown. Back late. Left you coffee.Classic Michael. Half-warm, half-untouchable.I wrapped myself in a towel, too lazy to dig for clean clothes, and padded down the hall toward my room, dripping a little trail behind me.And that’s when I walked into him.Literally.He came out of the side room just as I turned the corner, and I smacked straight into a wall of chest and heat and him.“Shit,” I gasped, stumbling.Michael’s hands caught my arms instantly, steadying me. We both froz

5Lena. Michael was the one who asked me to come. That surprised me.“Groceries,” he said, like the word explained everything. “I’ll need help carrying.”I didn’t argue or joke. I nodded casually, even though the thought of being in public with him made my stomach coil in ways I didn’t expect. I wore jeans that hugged, a tank that dipped, and a denim jacket just for the illusion of modesty. When I walked into the living room, he looked up from where he stood by the door, and for a second, his eyes stayed on me a little too long.But, as always, he said nothing.He drove with one hand on the wheel, eyes fixed on the road and silence between us. It should’ve felt awkward. It didn’t.At the store, we moved easily like we’d done this a hundred times, a strange kind of domestic. I tossed things into the cart, he caught them without looking. He read labels, I made jokes. We didn’t touch, but we kept bumping into each other in small, stupid ways. His elbow brushing mine at the dairy aisle.

7Lena. I woke up alone.His bed was still warm, the sheets crumpled beside me, the scent of him thick in the air. I reached across the mattress anyway, hand grazing the empty space where he’d been just hours ago. It was stupid, I know. But I did it anyway.I stayed there for a while, lying on my back, staring at the ceiling, wondering what the hell had just happened.I’d wanted him. For weeks. Hell, maybe longer. And last night… it happened. Finally. Completely.Except now it felt like it was already unraveling.The clock read 9:47 AM. I could hear movement downstairs of faint clinks, footsteps, the familiar opening and closing of the fridge. So he hadn’t gone far. Just… gone from me.I debated staying upstairs and hiding out all day like a coward, but I’d never been good at pretending nothing happened. And I hated silence more than awkwardness.Still, when I walked down the stairs, barefoot in his oversized hoodie and nothing else, the tension in the air was brutal. Thick and quiet