My husband has been on a business trip in London for two days, but the house hasn't been empty for a single second.I stood in the kitchen in a paper-thin, silk pink robe, stirring a cup of hot chamomile tea while thunder shook the glass windows. My body was built for dangerous thoughts—full round breasts, a tiny waist, and wide hips that made every tight outfit look like a confession. Being thirty-two and married to an older businessman was comfortable, sure, but comfort is boring.I craved friction.The front door suddenly slammed open. Rain-soaked footsteps echoed through the hardwood hallway, accompanied by laughter."I told you the storm was going to hit before we finished our run, bro," Julian's deep voice called out.Julian, my twenty-year-old step-son, rounded the corner into the kitchen, dripping wet. His dark hair was plastered to his forehead, his grey workout shirt clinging so tight to his chest it left zero to the imagination. Right behind him was Leo—his best friend sinc
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