𝐒𝐡𝐚𝐫𝐞𝐝 𝐖𝐚𝐥𝐥𝐬

The echo of my footsteps followed me up the grand staircase, the house still smelling faintly of fresh paint and old wood. My mother and his father had gone out to celebrate the move, leaving the two of us alone in this vast estate that didn’t yet feel like home. Ash was supposed to be out — at least that’s what his father had said. Still, as I climbed the stairs, a nervous flutter stirred in my chest, the kind that always came when I thought of him. I’d met him a few times before our parents decided to move in together. He’d been polite, charming even, with those storm-gray eyes that seemed to read thoughts I hadn’t spoken. Tall, broad-shouldered, with dark brown hair that fell carelessly yet perfectly into place. And the tattoos vanishing beneath his collar had caught my attention more than once. The corridor upstairs was quiet. I turned the corner toward the bathroom that connected our rooms, my thoughts elsewhere, when I collided with something solid — someone solid. A startled gasp escaped me as I stumbled, but strong hands caught my hips before I could fall. “Careful,” a deep, amused voice murmured, close enough that I felt the warmth of his breath against my temple. My heart stuttered. Ash. He gently steadied me, his fingers firm yet careful, before pushing me back just enough that I could see him. My breath caught again — this time for an entirely different reason. He was shirtless, droplets of water sliding down his chest, tracing the lines of muscle before disappearing into the waistband of his jeans. The tattoo I’d only ever glimpsed now ran down his arm in bold black strokes. He tilted his head, his hand still lingering at my waist, and lifted my chin with the other until our eyes met. His lips curved into a teasing smile. “Welcome home,” he said with a small grin. “If I didn’t know better, I’d say you’re already a fan of the place — or maybe just the company.”