Mum decided to work from home that night.
She came into the living room carrying her laptop and a stack of files, muttering something about a “tight deadline” and “needing the big screen.”
Amelia and I exchanged one quick, frustrated glance across the room. The heat between us was still crackling from earlier, but now it had nowhere to go.
Dinner was pure, agonizing torture.
Amelia sat directly across from me at the dining table, looking effortlessly elegant in a silky black robe she’d changed into after “freshening up.” The robe was tied loosely, and every time she moved, it parted just enough to tease the smooth skin of her thighs and the curve of her full breasts.
Under the table, her bare foot slowly slid up my leg.
It started innocently — her toes brushing my ankle. Then higher
