The apartment felt small with Sarah gone. She had left Friday evening for a three-day curate’s retreat in the hills, leaving Mia and Elias alone in the silence of the city. The tension that had been simmering beneath the surface of their shared meals and stolen glances had reached a boiling point. For Mia, the house no longer felt like a home; it felt like a hunting ground, and she was more than happy to be the prey.
Mia sat in the living room, her sketchbook open on her lap, but she hadn't drawn a single line in an hour. She was wearing a silk slip dress that barely skimmed her thighs, the thin fabric clinging to the heavy, aching curves of her breasts. The growth spurt hadn't slowed; if anything, it had accelerated, leaving her feeling permanently swollen and sensitive.
Elias entered
