STEP LOVE Loving My Wife's Daughter
His touch was warm, grounding—and infuriating.
“Let go,” I whispered.
“Not until you listen to me.”
“There’s nothing left to listen to!”
“Yes, there is,” he said, voice cracking now. “You think I didn’t know? You think I didn’t read those journals after she died? I did, Liza. I read them all.”
That silenced me.
He took another step closer, our faces inches apart.
“And you know what I learned?” he continued, voice low, raw, and trembling. “That love can twist anyone. Even the ones we thought were innocent.”
Bab Populer