"No, Liam... we can’t," Abigail whispered, her voice trembling with a mix of arousal and guilt, as his hand slid up her thigh, higher than it ever had before. The room was dimly lit, the glow from the TV casting shadows over the couch where they sat. The wineglass in her hand trembled, the red liquid sloshing dangerously close to the rim. Her heart pounded in her chest, a frantic rhythm that matched the confusion swirling...