Angel couldn’t sleep. The house felt too still, too big, too empty even with Marcus upstairs. She’d tossed in bed for an hour, skin hot, thoughts circling back to the way he’d looked at her when she came home from college last week—eyes lingering a second too long on the way her sundress hugged her hips. She told herself it was nothing. But her body knew better.
She slipped out of bed in nothing but a thin white cami—soft cotton that clung to her full breasts—and tiny pink cotton panties with little white bows on the front. The kind that looked sweet, innocent. The kind that rode up when she moved. She padded downstairs barefoot, hair loose and messy around her shoulders, telling herself she just needed to start a load of laundry. Anything to keep her hands busy.
The basement stairs crea
