Lingerie and Lies🥵💦💦

The late afternoon sun slanted through the open window, painting golden streaks over the white brick wall. Soft fabric slipped through Lilia’s fingers as she hung the last of the laundry, the scent of vanilla detergent laced with something heavier in the air. The kind of scent that clung to secrets.

She wasn’t alone.

She could feel his presence before she even turned around—the slow drag of his gaze, a heat prickling against her skin. It was the same way he always watched her, like a wolf in the shadows, waiting for her to make the wrong move.

Lilia smiled to herself as she reached for a pair of lace panties adorned with strawberries. Cute. Innocent. The exact opposite of the thoughts swirling in her mind. She draped them over the drying rack, letting the moment stretch, teasing the silence between them.

“You’re early,” she finally said, turning her head just enough to catch him in her periphery.

Matteo leaned against the doorframe, arms crossed over his chest, his dark eyes hooded. He had a way of looking at her—slow, unhurried, like he had all the time in the world to take her apart.

“You left the door open,” he said, voice smooth as aged whiskey. “Almost like you were expecting me.”

Lilia let out a soft laugh, reaching for another piece of clothing. “Maybe I was.”

A slow smirk curled at the corner of his lips, but his eyes stayed sharp. Dangerous. “You’re playing a risky game.”

“And you like dangerous women.” She met his gaze now, bold and unafraid.

Matteo stepped forward, his movements fluid, predatory. He was close now—close enough that she could feel the faint heat of his body. His fingers trailed lightly over the drying fabric, stopping at the delicate lace, his touch almost reverent.

“Is this for me?” he asked, lifting the red-edged fabric with two fingers.

Lilia tilted her head, her lips curving. “Maybe.”

His eyes darkened. “You’re going to get yourself into trouble.”

She reached out, brushing the tips of her fingers over the back of his hand, just a whisper of contact, but it was enough. A current crackled between them, a silent challenge in the air.

“I think you like trouble,” she murmured.

Matteo exhaled sharply, his fingers tightening around the lace before he let it slip from his grasp. “You have no idea what I like.”

Lilia turned fully now, pressing her back against the drying rack, letting the tension simmer between them. “Then maybe you should show me.”

A muscle ticked in his jaw. He was fighting it—fighting her. But they both knew how this game would end.

With slow deliberation, he reached out, his fingers skimming up the side of her thigh, his touch leaving a burning trail in its wake.

“You think this is a game, Lilia?” he whispered, his voice a low, dangerous thing.

She smiled, leaning in just enough that her lips brushed against his ear as she spoke.

“No, Matteo. I think this is foreplay.”

And just like that, the game was over.