One week had passed since that dangerous family dinner, and the tension in the house had only grown thicker. Ryan and I barely spoke in front of Mom, but every stolen glance, every brush of his hand when she wasn’t looking, reminded me how badly I craved him.
I still felt guilty every morning when I saw Mom smiling at both of us, but the ache between my legs always won.
Tonight was my best friend’s birthday party at a loud, upscale club downtown. Mom had already given me permission. “Go have fun, Mia! You’re twenty now — just be safe,” she said, kissing my cheek before heading out for her own girls’ night.
I stood in front of the mirror and slipped into a brand-new red dress — shorter and tighter than the last one. This one was backless, with thin straps that barely held my full breast
