Lahat ng Kabanata ng SEVEN NIGHTS WITH MY STEPFATHER: Kabanata 51 - Kabanata 60

It was only the third day in Hawaii, and Cassian was already gone again.I woke up to an empty bed, the sheets cool where his body had been pressed against mine all night. The villa was silent except for the distant rhythm of waves rolling onto the private beach outside. I lay there for a long minute, staring at the ceiling fan turning slowly overhead, trying to convince myself I wasn’t disappointed. But the truth was sharper than that. I was. Deeply.He’d kissed me awake just before dawn, slow and lazy, whispering that he had another client meeting—“something urgent, won’t take long”—and that he’d be back by late afternoon. I’d nodded, said nothing, let him kiss me again—deeper this time, tongue sliding against mine, hand cupping my breast through the thin sheet—before he slipped out of bed. I’d watched him dress in the soft gray light: black linen shirt, sleeves rolled, dark jeans that hugged his thighs, the camera bag slung over one shoulder like always. He’d leaned down, kissed m

The music pulsed through the sand like a heartbeat, heavy bass vibrating up my legs and into my chest. Noah’s hands were on my hips, firm but not possessive, guiding me in slow circles that matched the rhythm. I could feel the heat of his palms through the thin sarong, the way his fingers flexed every time I rolled my hips against him. His eyes never left my face—dark, hungry, completely captivated. I let myself enjoy it: the way he looked at me like I was the only woman on the beach, the way his thumbs brushed the bare skin just above my waistband, the way his breath caught when I arched my back and pressed closer.I was tipsy on rum and moonlight, and for the first time in weeks, I wasn’t thinking about Cassian. Not really. Or maybe I was thinking about him too much, without any explanation, about how I’d spent the afternoon touching myself in the shower remembering his mouth on me while he was probably on a plane to Claire.Noah’s hand slid lower, cupping the curve of my ass throug

The afternoon sun poured through the villa windows in thick golden bars, warming the tile floors and making the white curtains glow. I stepped out of the shower, skin still pink from the hot water, hair dripping down my back. I wrapped a towel around myself, tucked another around my head, and padded into the bedroom. The place was still too quiet, too empty. Cassian’s absence felt like a hole in the air—something I kept expecting to fill when I turned a corner or opened a door. My phone rang on the nightstand. His name lit up the screen. I answered on the second ring, sitting on the edge of the bed, towel slipping a little. “Hey,” I said, trying to sound casual. “Hey, beautiful.” His voice was warm, tired around the edges. “You okay? Having fun without me?” I laughed softly, even though it didn’t feel funny. “The villa’s perfect. I’m… managing. You?” A pause. “I’m sorry about cutting the week short. Claire’s family thing turned into a bigger deal than I expected.” My chest ti

I opened my eyes to the unfamiliar weight of an arm slung across my waist, warm and heavy, pinning me gently to the mattress. For a heartbeat everything was soft confusion—the cotton sheets tangled around my bare legs, the faint smell of salt and sunscreen clinging to my skin, the slow rise and fall of someone breathing against the back of my neck.Then memory slammed into me like cold water.Noah.The bar.The way I’d let him kiss me deeper than I meant to.The way I’d followed him here, to his small staff bungalow only a short walk from the resort path.The way I’d let him peel the bikini off me, piece by piece, his hands shaking with want as he whispered how beautiful I was, how he’d been thinking about touching me since the first night he saw me dance.The way I’d moaned when he sucked my nipples into his mouth, when his fingers slid inside me, when he’d finally pushed into me on that narrow bed and fucked me slow at first, then harder, whispering filthy praise in my ear until I c

I woke to the soft brush of fingertips tracing my cheekbone, slow and gentle, like someone afraid of startling me. My eyelids fluttered open, heavy with sleep and the kind of bone-deep exhaustion that comes after crying and coming and crying again. The first thing I saw was Noah’s face hovering above mine—tousled hair, morning stubble, eyes soft in the pale blue light pouring through the living-room windows.He hadn’t left.He was still here.Curled beside me on the thick rug in front of the fireplace, one arm tucked under his head, the thin blanket we’d dragged over ourselves pooled around our waists. His other hand was still touching my face, thumb stroking the arch of my cheek like he was memorizing it.“Hey,” he whispered, voice gravelly from sleep. “You okay?”I blinked, disoriented, and turned my head toward the windows. Outside, the sky was a perfect, endless blue—no trace of last night’s fury. The ocean glittered like shattered glass under the morning sun. Birds called somewhe