Dirty and Sinful Collection

　　Lena's POV

　　I didn't expect the house to be this clean. Or this quiet. It had the kind of silence that made you feel like your shoes were too loud, like you needed to whisper even if you were alone.

　　Not that I cared.

　　I dragged my suitcase inside and let the door slam behind me. On purpose.

　　"Watch the door," came a voice from somewhere deep in the house. Deep and sharp and male. Jack. Of course.

　　I didn't reply. I just rolled my eyes and kicked off my shoes right there in the entryway. My mother had married him while I was at school; some destination wedding in Belize I had no intention of attending. She sent me a photo of her in a beach dress, barefoot, holding a bouquet of seashells. He was in linen pants, smiling like he didn't know what he'd signed up for. I remember thinking: he'll learn.

　　Now, here I was. Suspended from college and sentenced to "a quiet summer at home," which really meant being dumped on my new stepfather while my mom took a yoga retreat in Bali. Her solution to everything was "space" and "detoxing your energy." Mine was vodka and bad decisions.

　　Jack stepped into view from the hallway, wiping his hands on a dish towel. He looked exactly like the photo, but more…solid. Bigger. Tan. Square jaw. Frown lines already forming even though I'd been here less than a minute.

　　"You're late," he said.

　　"Nice to see you too," I replied, dragging my suitcase past him and pretending not to notice how he looked at me.

　　Or maybe I didn't pretend that hard.

　　I was wearing a white crop top, no bra, and cutoff denim shorts that barely covered my ass. I hadn't dressed for him, but I wasn't changing for him either. If he wanted to play daddy, he'd have to learn how to deal with his little girl misbehaving.

　　He followed me Into the living room. "We had an agreement. You'd be here by noon."

　　"It's barely one."

　　"It's one forty-seven."

　　I flopped onto the couch and stretched my legs out. "Oh no. Ground me."

　　Jack didn't laugh. His arms crossed, and that frown deepened. "We need to go over some rules."

　　"Do we?" I tilted my head. "I thought I was here to 'cool off' or whatever."

　　"You're here because your mother asked me to keep you out of trouble," he said. "Which means I'm in charge. And if you're going to live under my roof, you're going to follow my rules."

　　"Wow," I said. "You sound like a movie stepdad. Let me guess. Curfew at ten? No boys allowed?"

　　"Curfew at nine," he said. "No drugs. No drinking. No guests. You cook twice a week, you clean up after yourself, and you show basic respect."

　　I stared at him. "Are you for real?"

　　"Dead serious."

　　"You want me to cook?"

　　"You want to eat?"

　　I snorted. "You're hilarious."

　　Jack stepped forward, and I noticed something shift. His body wasn't just big, it was built. Broad chest, arms like stone. And when he looked at me like that, like I was a problem he already knew how to solve, it made my stomach do something it really shouldn't have.

　　"I don't care if you like me," he said. "I care that you listen."

　　"Do you practice your speeches in the mirror?"

　　"I'm not your friend, Lena. I'm not here to coddle you. If you pull any of the stunts you did at school, you'll learn fast that I don't play games."

　　My thighs pressed together without thinking. I hated him a little for talking to me like that. I hated myself more for liking it.

　　"I'll think about it," I said, standing up.

　　"Not optional."

　　I smiled sweetly. "I'll still think about it."

　　And then I walked past him, again on purpose.

　　My room was upstairs. It looked exactly like it did when I left for college. Neat. Beige. Boring. Jack probably vacuumed the floor before I arrived. I dumped my suitcase in the corner and opened the window to let some air in.

　　By dinner, we hadn't said more than five words to each other. He grilled chicken. I made instant noodles. We didn't eat at the same time.

　　I went to bed late. Around midnight. I was wearing one of my oversized t-shirts, no panties. The kind of thing that clung when you moved and flashed skin when you didn't mean to. I brushed my teeth, tied my hair up, and padded down the hallway to get a glass of water.

　　That's when I heard the shower.

　　His door was cracked open. The light was on. Steam curled out like a hand inviting me in.

　　I should've kept walking. I know that, but I didn't.

　　I stopped, tilted my head and looked.

　　Jack was standing in front of the bathroom mirror, towel slung low on his hips. His chest was wet, droplets sliding over the ridges of his abs. His hair was darker when wet, messy and curling slightly at the ends. He rubbed a towel over his face, then reached for something on the counter.

　　And then he looked up, straight at me.

　　He didn't move. Neither did I.

　　My breath caught. My heart thudded. I felt heat start in my neck and slide down to my chest, then lower. He didn't say anything. He didn't even cover himself. Just stared.

　　I should've said sorry. Or laughed it off. Or left, but I didn't.

　　I stood there, barefoot in his t-shirt, eyes locked with his, my thighs tightening, nipples stiffening under cotton.

　　He slowly picked up the towel and dried his arms.

　　I licked my lips.

　　His eyes dropped for the briefest second, to my mouth, to my chest, then back to my face.

　　And then he turned and walked away. The bathroom door closed with a click.

　　I stood there another minute before going back to my room, the glass of water forgotten.

　　I shut my door, locked it and turned off the light.

　　My body was buzzing. My skin felt stretched. My heartbeat lived between my legs now, and it throbbed, slow and steady.

　　I slid into bed, covers kicked off immediately. The air was warm, or maybe I was. My shirt rode up to my hips.

　　I let it.

　　I pressed my hand between my thighs, already wet, like my body had made the decision before my brain had caught up.

　　I didn't hesitate.

　　I put one finger, then two, sliding over my slit. My breath hitched.

　　Jack's face filled my head. The way he looked at me. The heat behind his eyes. The fact that he didn't stop me.

　　He saw me. He saw me.

　　My fingers moved faster.

　　I imagined him grabbing me by the throat, pressing me against the wall like earlier but this time with his mouth on mine, his hands under my shirt, his voice in my ear saying "you want this, don't you?"