Semua Bab His Naughty Girls: Bab 1 - Bab 5

LIVI shouldn’t be this wet.It wasn’t just an ache. It was soaked-through-my-panties, swollen-and-throbbing, clench-my-thighs-and-breathe-through-it kind of wet. The kind that makes you hate yourself a little, then touch anyway.And I knew exactly who did it to me. Caleb fucking Thorne.Not my dad. Not my anything. Just the man who raised my sister, paid the mortgage on this too-quiet house, and let me move in after they zipped my mother into a body bag.He didn’t ask questions. Just looked me over once — hoodie, suitcase, busted mascara — and stepped aside like letting me in wasn’t going to fuck everything up.I’d only been here four days. I hadn’t even unpacked my second bag.But I’d memorized his footsteps. The way the hardwood creaked outside my room when he passed. The deep, tired sigh he gave when the front door locked. The way his hand flexed around the edge of the kitchen table when I bent over to grab something I “dropped.”He was trying so hard to be good. That’s what ma

LIVShe turned away before I could see the rest of her face.But her robe slipped off her shoulder — just a little.Just enough to make me wonder if she knew I was watching too.Tch. Fuck you Liv. It wasn’t even sunrise and you’re already soaked?This wasn’t the average, sleepy kind of wet. Not the ohmaybeI’llfantasize— kind.This is immediate. Heat between my legs, nipples tight against my tank top like I’d been dreaming of his voice in my ear again.Fuck.Why does this keep happening?It’s not like he touched me.He hasn’t said more than five words in two days. He walks past like I’m invisible. Like the memory of me moaning his name in the dark isn’t still etched into the drywall.But I know it is.Because I see it in his eyes when I walk into the room — that flicker. That hesitation. Like he’s seconds away from pinning me against the wall and swallowing the words back down my throat.He doesn’t, he won’t.That’s what makes me wetter.I don’t bother changing before I walk down the

LIV “Do you think he wants you?” Her voice came from the dark. Flat and quietly. I didn’t turn or utter anything. Not because I didn’t have an answer — but because yes. Yes, I thought he wanted me. Not just thought — felt it. Every time his eyes dropped to my legs. Every time his hand twitched when I passed. Every time he said my name like it left a taste he wasn’t sure he hated. But I didn’t say any of that, I just let the silence sit. Let her fill in the rest. Behind me, I heard the mattress shift. Her knees uncurled. The weight of her breath thickened. She wasn’t asking because she didn’t know, she was asking because she did. Because she felt it too. And she couldn’t stand that maybe—just maybe—he wanted me more. I went to bed soaked, not from him. From this. From being wanted and hated at the same time. From knowing her eyes followed me when his didn’t. From knowing she was more obsessed than jealous. From knowing she was fucking breaking. And the next day?