All Chapters of Steamy Encounters: Chapter 111 - Chapter 120

KAII locked the studio door after Layla left and stood there for a long moment with my hand still on the knob, replaying the exact second I had leaned in behind her and almost closed the last few inches between us. Her lips had looked so soft and pink under the studio lights, and the little startled sound she made when she realised how close I was had gone straight through me. I had been one second away from kissing her, and the only reason I stepped back was that I knew if I started I would not have stopped at just a kiss. She was a fast learner with the clay, quicker than most students I had taught in years, but that was not the only reason I kept thinking about her. I found her very attractive, more than I had admitted to myself until today, and the fact that she had accidentally liked that post of me out with friends had been cute as hell once I realised it was a mistake. I never brought it up because I could already picture the embarrassed look on her face, and the last thing

I woke before him the next morning, the soft light filtering through the half-closed blinds and painting pale stripes across his bare chest. Kai was still deeply asleep on his back, one arm thrown above his head, the sheet tangled low around his hips so that the thick length of his cock rested heavy and half-hard against his stomach. I watched him breathe for a long minute, remembering every filthy thing he had done to me the night before, and the want rolled through me again so strong that I didn’t even try to fight it.I slid down the bed carefully, settling between his spread thighs, and wrapped my fingers around the base of his cock. It twitched in my hand the second I touched it. I leaned in and dragged my tongue slowly from the root all the way up to the tip, tasting the faint salt of his skin, then opened my mouth and took the head between my lips. I sucked gently at first, just the swollen tip, swirling my tongue around it while my hand stroked the rest of him in long, twistin

The little bell above the door chimed while I was still trying to smooth my dress back down, and Kai was barely finished tucking himself away. Four familiar faces walked in, the same group of women from the schedule mix-up, already chatting and heading for the apron hooks like nothing unusual had just happened in the studio ten minutes earlier. Kai cleared his throat and said, “Afternoon, everyone. Wheels are ready. We’re working on lids and fitted rims today, so grab your previous pieces from the shelf and settle in.” I stayed near the window wheel, cheeks still flushed, and tried to look like I had arrived early to practice. Jenna noticed me first and walked over with a friendly smile. “You’re the private student, right? Layla? We saw you the other day when the schedules got messed up.” “Yeah,” I answered, managing a normal voice. “That’s me.” Mia joined her and added, “You’re really good for someone who’s only been coming a couple weeks. Your bowl from last time looked clean.

I came downstairs in an old tank top and shorts because I had forgotten he was there, and the second my bare feet hit the last step, I saw Ethan in the living room with his sleeves rolled up and a measuring tape held in his mouth as he marked the wall. He looked up, and his eyes dragged down my legs and stayed there half a second too long, and I felt it in my stomach before I could decide whether to turn around and change. “Morning,” he said around the tape, then pulled it free. “Didn’t think you’d be up yet.” “I live here,” I answered. “I can come downstairs in my own house.” “I didn’t say you couldn’t.” He glanced at my legs once more and then forced his attention back to the wall. “Coffee’s still hot if you want it. I used the maker in the kitchen.” “I didn’t ask you to make coffee.” “I know. I made it anyway.” I walked past him toward the kitchen, and our shoulders almost touched in the doorway, and both of us looked away first. All day we worked around each other like that.

We lasted three days.Three days of walking past each other in unfinished rooms and answering questions about grout and baseboards like the vanity had never happened, three days of me telling myself that one soaked, angry fuck in a flooded bathroom did not mean I was going to let him back into my body or my house or any version of the life I had already burned down. On the fourth night, I found him in the empty main bedroom on his knees, spreading a drop cloth over the subfloor, and I should have turned around and gone back to the guest room; instead, I stood in the doorway until he looked up. “You should be asleep,” he said. “So should you.” He sat back on his heels and wiped his hands on his jeans. “The floor in here needs to stay clean until the stain goes down. That is all this is.” “Is it?” He looked at me for a long time. “Come here.”I hated that I went. I crossed the room, and he pulled me down onto the cloth with him, and this time it was slower, his mouth on mine withou