It became a drug. Him. Us. This twisted thing between us that I couldn't quit.
Three days after their conversation in the study, Elara realized she was in trouble.
Not the obvious kind—the kind where consequences were clear and avoidable. The insidious kind. The kind that crept up slowly until you were drowning and couldn't remember when you'd stopped being able to breathe.
It started with small things.
A brush of hands when passing Leo between them. Fingers lingering just a second too long. Eyes meeting across the kitchen with heat that made her stomach clench.
Then it escalated.
A kiss in the hallway when Leo was occupied with toys. Kairos pressing her against the wall, his mouth on hers, one hand tangled in her hair while the other gripped her hip like he was afraid she'd disappear.
"We shouldn't," she gasped against his mouth.
"I know." But he didn't stop. Neither did she.
