She’s not his stepmother, but she’s close enough that every kiss feels like betrayal. She’s close enough that every time he pulls away, he ends up right back in her bed the next night. They tell themselves it’s just once. Then twice. Then they stop counting. “She’d always teased him mercilessly — “When are you gonna grow up until the day he finally answered by pinning her against the laundry room door. Now the teasing hasn’t stopped… it just sounds different when she’s whispering it against his throat.” “She used to tuck him in as a boy. Now, at twenty-two, he’s the one pinning her wrists above her head on the guest bedroom mattress while her stepsister downstairs.