Semua Bab SEVEN NIGHTS WITH MY STEPFATHER: Bab 71 - Bab 80

I barely made it through the apartment door before the exhaustion hit me like a wave. My bag slipped from my shoulder and hit the floor with a dull thud. I kicked off my shoes, didn’t bother turning on the lights, and stumbled straight to the bedroom. The bed looked like salvation—cool sheets, soft pillows, no expectations. I collapsed face-first into it, the mattress swallowing me whole.I should have been getting ready.Cassian’s text from earlier was still glowing in my mind: My place. 8. Black dress. No panties. I need you tonight.I’d read it three times on the bus ride home, each pass making my stomach tighten in that familiar, conflicting way—want and dread twisting together until I couldn’t tell them apart. I knew what tonight would be: hours of his hands, his mouth, his voice calling me little girl while he fucked me slow and deep and told me he loved me. I knew I’d come apart under him again. I knew I’d whisper it back.And I knew I’d hate myself afterward.Because the tru

The afternoon sun slanted through the apartment windows, casting long golden shadows across the kitchen floor as I bustled around, trying to make everything perfect. The scent of garlic and fresh herbs filled the air—shrimp scampi bubbling on the stove, a simple salad chilling in the fridge, a bottle of white wine sweating on the counter. Noah had texted me earlier that day: Landed safe. Heading to your place. Can’t wait to see you. The words had made my heart race, a flutter of nervousness and excitement twisting in my stomach like I was a teenager waiting for her first date.I glanced at the clock. He’d be here soon—earlier than expected, but that was Noah. Always full of surprises, like showing up during the storm in Hawaii or sending me photos of the beach that made me miss the salt air and his touch all over again. I’d spent the morning cleaning the apartment, changing the sheets, lighting a few candles to make it feel cozy. And now, dinner was almost ready. It felt right—romanti

I sat across from Cassian at the small dining table, the dinner long gone cold, the wine untouched in my glass. The apartment felt smaller than usual, the walls pressing in like they were listening. The candle between us had burned down to a stub, wax pooling around the wick in uneven drips. I kept my eyes on it, watching the flame flicker, because looking at him hurt too much.He was still in the same black shirt he’d arrived in, sleeves rolled to the elbows, the top two buttons undone. His hair was messy from running his hands through it—something he only did when he was trying not to lose his temper. I could feel his gaze on me, steady, heavy, waiting. But I couldn’t meet it. Not yet.The silence stretched until it felt like a physical thing, tight across my chest. I kept thinking about Noah—about the way he’d looked when he left, the quiet hurt in his eyes, the way he’d said “I’m not going to be second choice” like it was the simplest truth in the world. I wanted to call him. I wa

The hotel room felt smaller now, the lamp on the bedside table throwing soft amber shadows across the walls. Rain tapped against the window in a steady, gentle rhythm—nothing like the violent storm from a few nights ago, just a quiet reminder that the world kept moving even when everything inside me felt stuck.Noah sat on the edge of the bed, elbows on his knees, hands clasped loosely in front of him. His shoulders were tense, but his face was calm—too calm, like he’d practiced this moment in his head a hundred times. I sat beside him, close enough that our thighs touched, but not touching. The space between us felt careful, deliberate. Like we were both afraid of breaking something fragile.He took a slow breath.“I really missed you,” he said quietly. “Not just for the sex. Not even mostly for that. I missed… this. Just sitting with you. Hearing you breathe. Knowing you’re here.”I felt my chest tighten. I reached for his hand, lacing my fingers through his. His palm was warm,

I shifted in his lap, straddling him properly now, knees on either side of his hips. His hands automatically settled on my waist—gentle, careful, the way he always touched me when he wasn’t sure what I wanted.“Ivy—” he started, voice soft, uncertain.I didn’t let him finish.I leaned in and kissed him—hard. Desperate. Like I was trying to pour everything I couldn’t say into his mouth. My tongue pushed past his lips, tasting the faint trace of beer and mint, tasting him. He groaned low in his throat, fingers flexing on my hips, but he didn’t push. He let me lead.I broke the kiss just long enough to grab the hem of his T-shirt and yank it over his head. He lifted his arms to help, eyes wide, pupils blown dark with surprise and want.“Ivy, wait—” he tried again, hands coming up to cup my face. “You don’t have to do this. I know your head’s full of him. I don’t want to be—”“Shh.” I pressed two fingers to his lips. “Don’t mention anyone else’s name. Not tonight. There’s only us here. Ju