All Chapters of Ruin Me Step Daddy: Forbidden Cravings : Chapter 21 - Chapter 30

I spent the afternoon locked in the spare room I’d turned into a makeshift studio, fan whirring against the thick heat, charcoal dust smudged across my fingers. The art showcase was three weeks away, and my portfolio still felt half-finished—raw sketches of tangled bodies and shadowed secrets that hit way too close to home now. Every curve I drew reminded me of Damien’s hands. Every dark line, his tattoos. I needed to focus. Needed to pretend the ache between my legs was from yesterday’s workout and not from getting railed on the kitchen counter like some desperate housewife in a bad porno. The door creaked open behind me. I didn’t turn around. “I’m working, Damien.” “Looks intense.” His voice was closer than I expected. He stopped just behind my stool, looking over my shoulder at the half-shaded drawing of intertwined limbs. “That supposed to be us?” “Dream on.” I closed the sketchbook too quickly. “It’s for the showcase. Abstract figures. Nothing to do with… whatever this is.”

The morning light felt too honest. I woke up tangled in sheets that still smelled like Damien—woodsy cologne mixed with sweat and that raw, unmistakable scent of us. My body ached in the best-worst way, a deep soreness between my legs that made me press my thighs together just to feel it again. Last night had been different. Not just the sex, though that had wrecked me twice over. The way he’d held me after, voice rough as he admitted all those months of fighting it… it cracked something open I wasn’t ready to look at. I avoided the mirror while I threw on a tank and shorts. Tyler was coming over later to go over the final showcase pieces, and I needed my head straight. Not swimming with memories of Damien buried inside me, whispering how I was his. Downstairs, the house felt charged, like it knew what we’d done in almost every room already. Damien was in the kitchen, coffee in hand, wearing that black tank that showed off the fresh marks my nails had left on his shoulder. His storm-

The next few days settled into a dangerous kind of rhythm. Mornings I’d wake up reaching for him before I caught myself, my body already trained to crave the weight of him pressing me into the mattress. Afternoons I’d bury myself in the studio, trying to make my showcase pieces feel like art instead of confessions. Evenings we’d circle each other like we were starving but pretending we weren’t—until one of us cracked and we ended up tangled somewhere in the house again, breathless and whispering things we had no business saying. My phone kept lighting up with Tyler’s texts about meeting for coffee to “finalize the big canvas.” Each one made my stomach twist. Not because I wanted anything with him, but because ignoring them felt like admitting how deep I was already in this mess with Damien. Damien noticed every notification. He didn’t say much, but the way his jaw ticked and his hands got rougher when he pulled me close later told me everything. One sticky afternoon, the kind where t

The fight hung in the air like smoke after a fire. I couldn’t look at him. Not after those words — *I fuck every pussy I see* — even if he’d tried to walk them back with that half-assed confession about Sophia being nothing. My chest felt tight, the kind of ache that went deeper than jealousy. It touched every old scar my dad left when he walked out, every fear that I was just temporary to people who were supposed to stay. I shoved past him, grabbing my sketchbook like it could shield me. “I need air. Don’t follow me.” Of course he did. I made it as far as the backyard before his hand caught my wrist, spinning me around under the fading evening light. The pool glowed behind us, mocking me with memories of nights when it felt like we were the only two people in the world. “Lila, stop.” His voice was rough, that storm-gray gaze searching my face like he was drowning and I was the only air left. “Sophia was a mistake. A pathetic attempt to convince myself I could still control this. B

My hands wouldn’t stop shaking on the steering wheel. I drove for what felt like hours, circling the neighborhood, then heading out toward the quieter roads near the river where the summer traffic thinned out. Sophia’s face kept flashing in my mind — the rage in her eyes, the way her nails had scraped my car window like she wanted to claw through it and into me. *I promise you, I won’t spare you.* The words sat heavy in my stomach, mixing with the guilt that had been festering since Damien first kissed me in the foyer. What the hell was I doing? This wasn’t some harmless summer fling. This was my mother’s marriage. My family. The only stable thing I had left after my dad bailed when I was twelve. And here I was, risking it all for stolen moments with the one person who was supposed to be off-limits. I finally pulled into the parking lot of a small park overlooking the water, killed the engine, and just sat there with the AC blowing cold against my clammy skin. My phone kept buzzing —