The bathroom air, thick with rising steam, choked me. Michael stood in the doorway, a solid, unmoving shadow. My blouse hung open, my skirt pooled at my ankles, my chest heaved with a sharp intake of breath. The heat flushing my face wasn't just the bath’s warmth. It was raw shame, stark recognition, and a terrifying, exhilarating pulse of desire that shot straight to my pussy.

His eyes, the color of gunmetal, moved over my naked body, a slow, deliberate sweep that stripped away any pretense of innocence I might have clung to.

He said nothing. He didn't have to. The silence screamed louder than any accusation. It crackled, heavy...