Craving My Stepson

"Why aren't you saying anything?" Mr. Scott asked. 

But before I could speak, Ace rushed down the stairs and walked toward us. 

"Oh my goodness," he said softly. "I am so sorry, Sabrina." 

"What are you apologizing for?" Mr. Scott asked. "What have you done this time?" 

"I spilled my yoghurt on her by mistake," he answered. "I didn't know I did at first, but hearing you ask what the stain on her dress was, I just knew it was the yoghurt." 

"Oh really?" Mr. Scot asked, but I wasn't sure he was convinced yet. So, I jumped in. 

"Don't worry about it, Ace. It's alright. I know you didn't mean to." I smiled. 

"Really?" Ace asked, his eyes were soft, it was impossible not to fall for his lie. 

"Yes, sure," I nodded softly, smiling. 

Ace turned and left again. As I was about to walk out as well, Mr. Scott grabbed hold of me gently. 

"Did Ace do anything to you while you both went out?" he asked in a firm tone. 

I froze. "No... not at all. The only thing he did was spill yoghurt on me, which he did by accident." 

He nodded his head. "That's alright then. I'll be going out right now. I was supposed to leave, but I waited for you to return first. So, take care of yourself. Feel free to explore the estate. I'll see you when I get back." 

"Sure, of course." After replying, I turned to walk away, thinking the conversation was over. But he grabbed me by my wrist and pulled me closer to him. 

"Leaving without giving me a kiss?" he smirked. 

"Uhm..." I swallowed. My body trembled as he wrapped his hands around my waist, holding me tighter to his body. His face got closer to mine as he spoke in a soft tone. 

"Well, can I at least kiss you?" 

I swallowed hard. My lips parted, but no words came out. But then, without hesitating, Mr. Scott leaned toward me and kissed me on the lips softly. His lips were as soft as Ace's, but there was something in his kiss that I didn't feel when Ace and I kissed. Maybe it was because I actually liked Ace. 

He pulled away gently. "Okay, then. I'll see you later," he smiled as he walked out of the house. 

I turned to walk up the stairs, but on seeing Mary standing with her eyes locked on me, I froze. 

"Are you okay? Mary?" I called out gently. 

She exhaled softly. "Of course, Sabrina. I'm alright. I saw the bags in your room, so I'm guessing you had a blast, right?" 

"Yes," I smiled. "I have never been to so many stores in my life. It was hard deciding on what to buy and what not to buy." 

She chuckled. "Guess, you'll get used to it someday." 

"I hope so," I smiled and then rushed up to my room. 

I remained locked in my room for a long time. I didn't know what else to do, and the realization that Ace, someone I've been dreaming of being with, f*ck*d me in his friends' place. It was so thrilling. I loved every minute of it. But I know I can't make it a habit, because it was wrong. If Mr. Scott, my husband, should find out about what happened, I might be in serious trouble. And he might hurt my mom because of it. 

I knew I had to control my urge around Ace and get myself together. If anything, I should try to get to know Mr. Scott. That way, I'll distract myself from Ace. 

But for how long? 

* * * 

A few hours later, a sharp knock on the door woke me up from a sleep I didn't  

know I had fallen deep into.  

"Who is it?" I called, rubbing my eyes softly.  

"It's Mary."  

I got off the bed and opened the door. Mary walked in. "You need to get dressed immediately. Mr. Scott has asked that you join him at the Crescent Restaurant. The driver is already waiting for you."  

"Right now?'  

"Yes. Right now." She left the room right after answering.  

Well, if I were going to get to know Mr. Scott better, this seems like a good opportunity. So, I went to get changed.  

* * *  

The driver pulled into the valet circle of the restaurant. My heart kicked up as the door was opened for me, and I stepped out. Inside, the restaurant was dimly lit. The place felt intimate and smelled faintly of rose and wine. But then I saw him.  

Mr. Scott stood near a reserved corner table, one hand tucked into his pocket, the other lifting a glass of wine. I almost faltered in my steps. But then, he smiled softly. 

"Beautiful," he murmured as I approached. He pulled out the chair beside him. "I was wondering how long you'd keep me waiting." 

"I came as fast as I could," I replied, sliding into the seat. "Mary insisted I change into something appropriate." 

His gaze trailed down my figure, then flicked back up to my face. "Remind me to thank Mary later." 

I swallowed, trying to hide how warm his words made me feel. 

The waiter arrived almost instantly, pouring me a glass of red wine and presenting the menu. But Mr. Scott waved it off. "No menu tonight. I've taken the liberty of ordering for both of us. I hope you don't mind." 

I raised a brow. "So, I don't get a choice?" 

"You'll find I have excellent judgment," he said, his lips curving in a smirk. "Besides, I want you to enjoy the night without having to think too much. Just... indulge me." 

I settled back into my chair. "Alright then. Surprise me." 

"Good girl," he said softly, almost under his breath. 

The waiter disappeared, leaving us in the warm cocoon of music. Mr. Scott turned his body toward me, resting an elbow on the table, his other hand brushing lightly over me. 

'So, Sabrina," he said. "Tell me something I don't know about you." 

I laughed nervously, twisting the stem of my glass. "First of all, I've never drunk alcohol." 

"Well, you don't have to if you don't want to. You're of legal age and you can drink, but still... that's up to you." 

I smiled. "So, what then do you want to know about me?" 

"What makes you laugh until your stomach hurts. Or what you dreamed about when you were little. Or what you'd do if the whole world was yours for a day." 

I blinked. I hadn't expected him to ask something so... gently. 

"Well..." I paused, sipping my wine. "When I was little, I always wanted to be a dancer. I'd sneak into my mom's room and spin around until I fell." 

He chuckled. "A dancer. I can see it. The way you carry yourself. You've got grace. Even when you're nervous." 

"I'm not nervous," I said quickly. 

His thumb stroked the back of my hand again. "You are. Your pulse gives you away." 

Heat crept up my neck, but I couldn't look away from his eyes. 

"What about you?" I asked, hoping to shift the focus. "What did you dream of being as a child?" 

He leaned back, smiling faintly. "A pilot," he confessed. "I wanted to fly planes. But my father had other plans." 

I tilted my head. "And you listened?" 

"I did," he admitted. "If I hadn't, I might not have ended up here, with you." 

I looked down, flustered, only for him to tilt my chin back up gently with two fingers. 

"Don't look away when I'm speaking to you," he said softly. 

Our food arrived. Steaming plates of roasted duck with wild mushrooms and creamy risotto. Mr. Scott slicked into his meal, then cut a small piece and held it toward me with his fork. 

"Try it," he said. 

I hesitated, then leaned forward, tasting it directly from his hand. 

"Well?" 

I smiled. "Okay. You were right. Excellent judgment." 

"Always," he teased, his hand brushing my knee beneath the table. Just a soft touch, enough to make me shift in my seat. 

We ate slowly. I found myself leaning closer without realizing it, his hand now resting more on mine, thumb tracing circles on my skin. 

"You're not what I expected," I admitted quietly. 

"What did you expect?" 

"A controlling husband who wouldn't bother to ask me what I wanted. Someone cold and detached." 

"And what am I instead?" 

"Someone..." I hesitated. "Someone soft." 

He said nothing for a few seconds, then he leaned in, his lips brushing my ear as he whispered. "That's just for you." 

I shivered, goosebumps racing down my arms. I met his gaze, heart pounding, and for a moment, I felt like we were alone in the world. 

After dessert, the bill came. It was handled discreetly. He rose and offered me his hand. I took it, and he helped me to my feet. As we walked out together, his palm lingered against the small of my back. For a moment, it worked. I was distracted from my feelings for Ace. 

But looking into Mr. Scott's eyes, I knew I wanted to know more.