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I’m sharing a bed with my stepfather, and it’s awakening something dangerous. His hands find me in the dark, his breath hot on my neck. “Show Daddy your titties,” he whispers, and I’m losing control. How long until my mother discovers our secret? --- Chapter 1 I slump in the back of my stepfather’s SUV as we wind our way toward the lakeside cabin my aunt booked for Thanksgiving. The single silver lining is that it’s on a lake. I adore the water. Swimming is my absolute favorite thing. But we’re in Northern California, so the lake is mostly for admiring, especially with Thanksgiving here and winter approaching. No snow, but the water will be frigid, probably in the low fifties. If I’d stayed home like I wanted, I could have spent the whole weekend with my friends, swimming every single day. “It’s not a tragedy,” Mom says after I sigh for what feels like the hundredth time. “I’m eighteen. I could have stayed by myself.” “Not on Thanksgiving.” I roll my eyes, then catch my stepfather, Benjamin, watching me in the rearview. He gives a slight smirk. Neither of us is thrilled about this trip. My aunt Chloe is… unpredictable. She and Mom clash constantly. There’s a deep undercurrent of jealousy between them. I don’t know all the history, but they’ve been fighting their whole lives. It got so bad that for years, my grandmother has split holidays between the two families. Thanksgiving with one, Christmas with the other. Then Grandma had a minor stroke in September. What Gran wanted for the holidays was for everyone to be together. So we got a last-minute invitation to share the cabin Aunt Chloe and Uncle William rented. We were also put in charge of bringing all the dessert ingredients and every bread item—rolls, dried bread for stuffing, cornbread for the dressing. That made sense, since Chloe had probably already bought a turkey big enough for extra guests. Benjamin said once we get back, we can make our own Thanksgiving feast since we left our turkey in the deep freeze. I’m looking forward to that quiet meal way more than whatever drama unfolds with Mom’s family. “This is our chance to move past old grievances,” Mom insists. I sigh again. As much as my mother wants a close bond with her sister, she’s just as much a part of the problem as Aunt Chloe. “I’ll be on my best behavior for Gran, but I’ll probably hide in my room and read most of the time.” “Same,” Benjamin says. “You too?” Mom asks him. “William is always pushing me to invest in one of his schemes. I wouldn’t give that man a single cent.” Mom swats his arm. “Don’t say things like that this weekend.” “The best way to keep me quiet is to let me hide in our bedroom and pretend to work.” Mom snorts, and I roll my eyes. We all know he won’t be pretending. He’ll actually be working. That’s why he brought his laptop. I don’t blame him. He’s probably only met Uncle William a handful of times since he and Mom started dating and then married. Benjamin had William figured out from the start. I remember Benjamin telling my uncle he only invests in real estate and stocks. William scoffed and said he’d never get rich without taking risks. But William has never seen Benjamin’s house or the Aspen condo he rents out most of the year. And I’m certain my stepfather’s stock portfolio is doing just fine. Not long after that, Gran had to bail William and Chloe out because they nearly lost their house over one of William’s investments. My aunt, who always prided herself on being a stay-at-home mom, had to return to work because eventually, Gran had to stop helping. The truth is, Mom told Gran that if she kept rescuing William and Chloe, she’d have to go live with them since she’d be paying their mortgage. I think that’s a big part of the bad blood between the sisters. I understand Mom’s point. If Gran drains her savings to cover Chloe’s mortgage and then has to live with us, we’d essentially be supporting William and Chloe without agreeing to it. Gran values her independence. She’s lively and active in her seventies. She doesn’t want to live with either daughter right now. I don’t blame her. Benjamin turns off the main road when the GPS instructs him to. We bounce along a rough dirt path full of potholes before stopping in front of a rustic-looking cabin that seems awfully small for nine people. After he parks, Benjamin looks at Mom. “Should we book a hotel?” he asks, echoing my thoughts. “No. They said there’s space. I’m sure there’s room. Maybe it extends farther in the back.” I’m not convinced Mom believes her own words. I certainly don’t, and Benjamin’s expression is pure skepticism. Chapter 2 "One bedroom," Benjamin mutters under his breath as we drag our luggage into the single room assigned to the three of us. "Everyone else is sharing," Mom points out. "Except William and Chloe. They have their own private room." "They're the ones who booked the place," Mom replies. Benjamin scoffs. "William already approached me about chipping in because we're forcing Liam & Noah to share." Mom's eyes dart to his. "What did you say?" "I told him I'd gladly pay a quarter since we're occupying one of the four bedrooms." Mom winces but can't dispute it. It's reasonable. "They gave us the only other room with a private bathroom," Mom says. "It's not like they can expand the house. We arrived at the last minute." "Because they invited us at the last minute," Benjamin reminds her. "What did William say?" "He mentioned that your mother is using a room." I roll my eyes. What a jerk. "If we hadn't come, your mother would still be occupying a room," Benjamin states. "But Violet would be in this room," Mom argues. "Exactly. Now their daughter is sharing with your mother, yet he expects us to pay for that room because your mother is in it." Mom gives Benjamin a pleading look. He narrows his eyes slightly. "I know you want to make this easier for your mother, but we're the ones being inconvenienced. We got a last-minute invitation. We changed our plans, bought extra food, packed the car, and drove all the way here. And now I'm starting to think the invitation was partly because your sister and her husband can't afford this lake house they rented." "But we'll get to host Christmas," Mom reminds him. "If Violet ends up in my room, I'm staying at Natalie's place," I announce. My eight-year-old cousin is the most spoiled brat imaginable. Just look at the cabin layout. Did they give Gran the only other room with its own bathroom? No, they gave it to Violet while her two brothers already share a room and the hallway bathroom that Gran also has to use. "Who names a kid Violet?" Benjamin asks. "Seriously. It's a clothing brand. It's like naming your child Hollister or Banana Republic." I can't help but laugh. Even Mom cracks a smile. My name is a bit unusual too, but it's because Evelyn was Gran's maiden name. It has significance. "So, are we all sharing one bed?" I ask. That makes both my parents actually examine the room. I swear I can see steam rising from my stepdad's ears. Mom grimaces. She's probably trying to spin this as a positive development. Before anyone can say another word, there's a knock at the door. Benjamin is closest, so he answers. Uncle William stands in the doorway. "Chloe asked me to bring down this cot we brought in case there weren't enough beds." Now steam is definitely coming from Benjamin's ears. "You were worried there wouldn't be enough beds for your family, yet you told us there was plenty of room for ours?" "There is. Because we brought the cots. Otherwise, one of you would be sleeping on the floor." William shakes his head as if we're the clueless ones, sets down two bags with handles, and walks away. After he closes the door, my stepdad turns to my mother and grits his teeth. "I'm not paying a cent more than twenty-five percent, and I want to see the paid invoice before I do." Mom opens her mouth to argue, but he cuts her off. "And you're the one sleeping on the cot," he declares. "Me?" Mom asks, placing a hand on her chest. "Yes. You. I didn't want to come, and neither did Ev. We told you to wait until Christmas to mend fences, but you wouldn't take no for an answer. Now you're dealing with a cot for your troubles." "I'm not sure that's appropriate," Mom says. "We're all in the same room, just like we would be if Ev or I took the cot. But we're not going to be the ones on it." "Fine," Mom says. "I'm going to unpack the groceries." She turns on her heel and leaves the room. With a sigh, Benjamin picks up a suitcase. "Let's get settled. Once we're unpacked, you can help me set up the cot. I have a feeling that if we don't do it, there will be three of us trying to share a queen-size bed." I nod, unable to speak. I understand where Benjamin is coming from. And believe me, I don't want to sleep on a cot for four nights. But sharing a bed with my incredibly attractive stepdad, when I'd give almost anything for him to touch me in all the forbidden ways I've fantasized about. That's probably more inappropriate than either of my parents realizes. Chapter 3 My stepfather is a cuddler in his sleep. I never would have predicted that. But all through the night, it felt like he was seeking me out. This is the third time I’ve woken up with damp underwear and a hard length pressing against my backside. The first time, I shifted away. The second time, I’ll confess, I arched back into his erection before turning over. This time is different. Because now my stepfather has his hand clamped around my waist. His hips rock into me, making me shiver. I stay perfectly still, scared to move because I don’t want him to stop. With a low groan, he pushes against me again. His fingers drift lower, to the top of my thighs. When they brush over my clit, I bury my face in the pillow to stifle a gasp. More than anything, I want to squeeze my legs together. I want to trap his hand between my thighs and grind against his palm until I shatter. I breathe as quietly as possible when he cups my whole pussy, almost daring me to act. But then I don’t have to do a thing. His hips do all the work. Every time he thrusts his erection forward, the heel of his hand presses right against my clit. I bite my lip as his pace quickens. Pleasure ripples through me until my eyes roll back and I turn into the pillow again to muffle the sounds I can’t contain. Against my rear, I feel his thick cock pulse and throb. Did he finish? I don’t have much experience, but I think he did. He’s probably dreaming about my mother. That thought douses the heat flooding through me. I slump back onto the mattress, defeated. Now I just feel ashamed. I should have rolled away, even though he was holding me. I should have woken him. I throw the covers off and sit on the edge of the bed. When I glance over my shoulder at my stepfather, he’s still sound asleep. His cock is soft inside his pajama bottoms, but I see a damp patch. “You awake?” Mom whispers. I jump, then snap my head toward her. “Did I wake you?” I ask. Mom shrugs. “Something did, I guess.” “I’m going to shower before everyone uses up the hot water,” I say. When I stand, Mom does too. As I shuffle into the bathroom, she takes my spot on the bed. It takes a minute for the water to heat up. Then, as I wash away all evidence that I came with my stepfather’s hand between my legs, I hear Mom enter the bathroom. The shower curtain moves. I turn and suck in a sharp breath when I see my stepfather standing there. His eyes are as wide as mine must be. “I thought you were your mom,” he says. He swallows, his gaze trailing down my body. “Why…” He clears his throat. “Why is your mom in the bed?” “She moved there when I came in here.” This is surreal. We’re having an ordinary conversation while I’m naked in the shower and he’s only in his boxers—boxers with a wet spot in front. Boxers that are now tenting. Finally, he shakes his head and steps back. “Sorry,” he says. “I didn’t mean to…” With another head shake, he turns away. When the curtain falls back into place, my stomach drops. My stepfather and I have been close since he started dating Mom. He always included me from the start. Often, the two of us would hang out because we like so many of the same things. I’ve worked hard to hide my crush from him and my mom. Now, I’m afraid everything is ruined. I rush through my shower and dress in the clothes I brought in. Normally, I’d stay in our room as long as possible. The cot my uncle gave us is probably meant for Liam & Noah, since it converts from a bunk to a sofa. I’d thought it would be a good spot to sit and read while avoiding the family. I’d actually imagined myself on one end and him on the other. But now that seems incredibly awkward. Instead, I head to the kitchen. The house is still quiet as I walk down the hall. Not wanting to bump into anyone, I pull on a sweater and go outside for a walk. Once outside, I take a deep breath and head toward the lake. The house my aunt and uncle rented isn’t far from the water. Not that I’m surprised. They always have to have the best, whether they can afford it or not. I find a wide, flat rock with a dip in the middle and wish I’d brought my book. Instead, I pull out my phone to check my reading app. Just as I’ve picked something to read, I hear a twig snap behind me. I look over and see my stepfather standing there. Chapter 4 "Can we talk?" he asks. I nod, my voice trapped in my throat. He settles on the edge of the rock. For a moment, we both stare at the water, avoiding each other's eyes. He draws a deep breath and forces the words out. "I'm sorry for barging in on you in the shower." "It's fine," I say quickly. "Let's just act like it never happened." He lets out a short, humorless laugh and mutters, "As if that's an option." "It isn't?" I ask. "Is everything going to be awkward between us now?" He takes another slow breath, his gaze fixed on the lake. He bends, picks up a smooth, flat stone, and sends it skimming across the surface. It hops four times before disappearing with a soft plunk. "Maybe your mother had a point. The two of us sharing a bed might not be the smartest idea." My shoulders sag. "So, I get the cot?" "No. I'll take it." "No. Please don't. Mom will never learn her lesson if we cave." "Ev, this isn't a good idea." "Why not? We can pretend this morning never occurred." "We can't. Or at least, I can't." "Why?" I press. "I don't get it. You've seen women naked before. Probably plenty of them. Don't they all just... blur together?" His mouth quirks into that half-smile I adore. "It's not that straightforward," he says. "Why not?" "It wasn't just the shower. It's more than that." Now I'm almost certain he wasn't asleep when we were grinding against each other this morning. Maybe he holds me responsible. I turn away, my eyes stinging with humiliated tears. "It's because of me, isn't it?" Before I can say another word, he's there, kneeling before me. Benjamin reaches up and brushes away the tears clinging to my lower lashes. "It is because of you, but not in the way you're thinking." I try to wait patiently for his explanation. Seconds stretch out. The only sound is the distant call of a bird. He exhales a heavy sigh. "With you in that bed, I'm having some... intense dreams. I'm not your father, and I'm not sure you'd be comfortable sleeping next to me if you knew what I was dreaming about." "I would be," I say instantly. His eyes snap up to meet mine. "You... kept reaching for me in your sleep. I liked feeling you against me." He shakes his head. "My body wants more than just cuddling." "So does mine," I whisper. "You made me come this morning. That's why I was in the shower to begin with." "Fuck," he breathes out. "And here I thought the worst part was knowing I'd never forget that your nipples are the exact same shade of pink as your lips. Now I'm imagining you falling apart in my arms." "It was the best feeling I've ever had. Your... your hand was between my legs, but I wanted so much more. I wanted you to kiss me. I wanted you to touch me under my clothes." "Ev," he groans. "You're making it incredibly difficult to do the right thing." "What if I asked you not to do the right thing? I know you're not my father. But what if I wanted you to be my daddy when we're alone?" He licks his lips, his gaze dropping to my chest. I hold my breath, waiting for his answer. He glances over my shoulder, then his eyes dart around our surroundings. "Show Daddy your titties," he whispers, his voice rough. "I need to taste you."