Velvet Sin

He walked into my mother's life like he belonged there.

A tall man with a calm voice and unreadable eyes. He smelled like clean soap and sin, like whiskey sipped under expensive chandeliers. When he smiled at my mother, I noticed how his dimple only dipped on one side. When he looked at me, he hesitated-just a second too long for it to be innocent.

That was when I knew I was in trouble.

I was seventeen, old enough to know better, but young enough to feel everything all at once. He was thirty-eight, a respected architect who spoke in quiet words and made grown men listen. My mother called him her fresh start.

But I couldn't stop staring.

At dinner, I watched the veins in his hand as he held his wine glass. I memorized the way his lips curved around words like darling and sweetheart. My mother thought he was saying it to her. I let her believe that.

But I knew.

That first night, when he helped me carry the dishes, our hands brushed. He didn't pull away.

And I didn't breathe.

That was the night I fell in love with my stepfather.