The house was too quiet.
Mom was in Chicago for the weekend. Business trip. I was supposed to be catching up on sleep and staying out of trouble.
But trouble always had a way of finding me.
Especially when Mark was in it.
Mark — my mom’s thirty-two-year-old boyfriend. Tall. Built like sin. Always in tight black T-shirts and jeans that hugged him in all the wrong ways. The kind of man who looked at you once and made you forget every rule you were raised with.
He’d been living here for six months now. Too polite. Too perfect. Always acting like he was above it — like he didn’t notice when I bent over in short shorts or stretched just a little too slow in the mornings.
But I saw the way his eyes followed me when he thought I wasn’t looking.
Tonight, the storm outside matched the heat i
