SEVEN NIGHTS WITH MY STEPFATHER novel Chapter 10

Chapter 10

The studio had turned into a furnace.

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Cassian had moved Elena and Marcus from playful newlywed sweetness to something rawer. They were on the wide leather ottoman now, Elena on her back, legs wrapped high around Marcus’s hips while he moved inside her with slow, deliberate strokes. Cassian circled them like a predator, camera low, catching every slick slide, every shudder, every broken gasp that left Elena’s lips.

“Beautiful,” he murmured. “Marcus, tilt her hips-yes, exactly like that. Let me see how deep you are.”

Marcus groaned and obeyed, lifting Elena so the angle changed and she cried out, nails raking down his back. The sound went straight between my legs.

I was supposed to be holding a light meter, but my arm had gone slack ten minutes ago. I couldn’t look away. Their bodies gleamed with sweat under the strobes, skin sliding on skin, breath ragged. Elena’s head fell back, exposing the long line of her throat, and Marcus bent to bite it, marking her while Cassian caught every second.

Heat coiled low in my belly, tight and unbearable. My breasts felt heavy, aching. Without thinking, without permission, my free hand drifted up, cupping one through my sweater, thumb brushing the hard peak of my nipple. A tiny squeeze sent sparks shooting down my spine. I bit my lip to stay quiet, but a soft exhale slipped out anyway.

Cassian’s head turned a fraction. The camera lifted, pointed away from the couple for three

silent frames.

At me.

I didn’t notice. I was too lost in the sight of Marcus driving harder now, Elena’s back arching off the ottoman, both of them chasing the edge Cassian refused to let them cross yet.

I squeezed again, harder, hips shifting on the stool, thighs pressed so tight together it hurt.

I needed out.

I dropped the light meter with a clatter that made everyone glance over. Heat flooded my face.

“Bathroom,” I mumbled, already moving. “Sorry-be right back.”

I fled.

The hallway was cold after the studio’s inferno. I shoved into the small powder room, slammed the door, and turned the faucet on full blast. Ice-cold water hit my wrists, my cheeks, my neck. I stared at my reflection: pupils blown, lips swollen, guilty flush riding high on my chest.

Two days, maybe three, he had said.

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Chapter 10

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It had barely been twenty-four hours and I was already touching myself in front of strangers while watching them fuck.

I pressed my forehead to the cool mirror and tried to breathe.

Cassian’s voice echoed in my skull, velvet and cruel: You’ll be right there, begging me to tie you down…

A soft knock. Then the door opened before I could answer.

He filled the doorway, camera hanging from his neck, eyes dark and unreadable.

I opened my mouth to tell him to get out, but he stepped inside, shut the door with his heel, and locked it.

Two strides and he was on me.

His mouth crashed into mine without warning, hard, claiming, tasting like coffee and danger. One hand fisted in my hair, the other gripped my hip and yanked me flush against him. I felt the rigid line of him through his jeans, felt my own body respond instantly, traitorously, arching into the kiss before my brain caught up.

For one stunned heartbeat I was lost in it-the heat of his tongue sliding against mine, the scrape of his stubble, the way he growled low in his throat like he’d been starving for this

exact moment.

Then reality slammed back.

I shoved at his chest with both hands, breaking the kiss. My palm cracked across his cheek so

hard the sound echoed off tile.

“You bastard!” I screamed, voice breaking.

His head snapped to the side, a red mark already blooming on his cheekbone. For a second he didn’t move, just breathed hard, eyes locked on mine, wild and furious and something else I couldn’t name.

Tears burned hot down my face. I couldn’t stop them.

“Don’t you ever touch me again,” I whispered, shaking from head to toe.

I pushed past him, yanked the door open, and ran

Up the stairs, down the hall, into the bedroom he’d given me. I slammed the door, turned the lock, and backed away until my shoulders hit the wall.

My lips still tingled. My skin still burned where his hands had been.

I could taste him.

I slid down the wall until I was sitting on the floor, arms wrapped around my knees, tears

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Chooter 10

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dripping onto my sweater.

Downstairs I could hear the low murmur of voices, the shoot continuing without us.

He had broken the only rule I thought we had.

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