Tous les chapitres de : Chapitre 21 - Chapitre 30

SOPHIE POVDinner was the longest hour of my life.I sat across from Mia at the table, wearing one of her old cardigans over a soft dress, thighs pressed together, hyper-aware that I had nothing on underneath. Nathan sat at the head of the table, calm and polite, asking his daughter about her day like he hadn’t spent the afternoon buried inside me. Every time his eyes met mine, the look in them was pure heat. I could still feel him leaking out of me in slow, sticky reminders.Mia talked about her plans for the weekend. I nodded and smiled and somehow managed to swallow food. Under the table, Nathan’s foot brushed once against my bare ankle. Just once. It was enough to make my pulse spike.When the plates were cleared, Mia announced she was exhausted and going to bed early. The second her bedroom door closed upstairs, the air in the house changed.Nathan didn’t speak. He simply stood, took my hand, and led me down the hall to his room. The door shut behind us with a soft click. The loc

SOPHIE POVDinner was the longest hour of my life.I sat across from Mia at the table, wearing one of her old cardigans over a soft dress, thighs pressed together, hyper-aware that I had nothing on underneath. Nathan sat at the head of the table, calm and polite, asking his daughter about her day like he hadn’t spent the afternoon buried inside me. Every time his eyes met mine, the look in them was pure heat. I could still feel him leaking out of me in slow, sticky reminders.Mia talked about her plans for the weekend. I nodded and smiled and somehow managed to swallow food. Under the table, Nathan’s foot brushed once against my bare ankle. Just once. It was enough to make my pulse spike.When the plates were cleared, Mia announced she was exhausted and going to bed early. The second her bedroom door closed upstairs, the air in the house changed.Nathan didn’t speak. He simply stood, took my hand, and led me down the hall to his room. The door shut behind us with a soft click. The loc

NINA POVI lasted exactly four hours before I had to leave my room.The house felt too small with him in it. Every sound carried. The shower running. The low thump of his bedroom door. The creak of the floorboards when he moved around downstairs. I tried to focus on my phone, on mindless scrolling, on anything that wasn’t the memory of his hand wrapped around my wrist in the kitchen. It didn’t work. My skin still felt hot where he had touched me.By ten-thirty I was restless and irritated and stupidly aware of how quiet everything had become. I needed water. That was the only reason I went back downstairs. Nothing else.The kitchen was dark except for the light above the stove. I didn’t bother turning on more. I just wanted to grab a bottle and get out. I should have known better.Logan was already there.He stood at the island, shirtless, wearing only low black sweatpants, drinking directly from a carton of orange juice like an animal. The dim light caught the lines of his chest and

NINA POVI woke up sore and furious.Sunlight cut through the blinds in thin, accusing stripes across my bed. My body ached in places that had nothing to do with cheer practice. Between my legs I was still sensitive, still marked by everything that had happened on the living room couch. The memory hit me in a hot, sick rush — his hands, his mouth, the way he had fucked me like he was trying to punish us both.I hated him for it.I hated myself more.I stayed in my room as long as I could. Showered until the water ran cold. Put on the most unattractive clothes I owned — oversized hoodie, baggy sweatpants — like armor. When I finally forced myself downstairs, the house was quiet. For a second I thought maybe he had left.Then I saw him in the kitchen.Logan stood at the counter in dark joggers and a white T-shirt that clung to his chest, pouring coffee like it was any other morning. His hair was still damp. There was a faint red scratch on the side of his neck that I knew had come from

NINA POVI lasted until midnight.I told myself I wouldn’t go. I sat on my bed with the lights off, knees pulled to my chest, staring at the dark outline of my door like it might open on its own. Every minute that passed made the ache worse. My body still carried the memory of the bathroom — the way he had lifted me onto the counter, the rough thrusts, the filthy words, the heat of him coming inside me. I hated how much I wanted more of it. I hated that the hatred itself had become part of the addiction.At 12:07 I stood up.I didn’t bother with anything more than an oversized T-shirt. No bra. No underwear. My bare feet were silent on the hallway carpet. His door was closed. I didn’t knock. I just turned the handle and stepped inside.Logan was sitting on the edge of his bed in the dark, elbows on his knees, waiting. The only light came from the streetlamp outside, cutting a pale stripe across the floor. He looked up when I entered. He didn’t smile. He didn’t speak. He just watched me