You’ll feel something touching your p***y at the dining table and don’t feel worried...it’s your stepfather playing a trick on you after you had mistakenly kissed him.
Or maybe not so mistakenly.
You had leaned in, your lips brushing his, tasting the faint salt and the residual heat of the whiskey he’d been sipping, those sexy and delicious lips that had always looked too full, too soft for a man who worked with his hands.
The kiss had lasted a second too long, your tongue flicking once against the seam of his mouth before you pulled back with a nervous laugh, blaming the wine.
Drew had gone still. His dark eyes had locked on yours, and something in them shifted, recognition, hunger, a red flag he decided not to ignore.
From that moment he has not let you rest.
It started small.
