Mom’s voice was still in the hallway, low and professional, phone pressed to her ear. She hadn’t gone far. Just far enough that the kitchen felt dangerous.
David hadn’t moved. He still stood on the other side of the island, eyes dark, jaw tight, the same hungry look he had given my chest only moments ago. The air between us felt thick enough to choke on.
I set the glass down and didn’t step back.
“She’s right there,” he said, voice low.
“I know.”
He came around the island in three slow steps. One hand gripped the edge of the counter beside my hip. The other lifted and brushed the hem of my shirt, pushing it higher until cool air touched bare skin. His fingers traced the soft curve of my waist, then higher, until his palm covered my breast and his thumb dragged over the hard peak of my
