BOOK 3: Chapter 21: A Dangerous Addiction

BOOK 3: Chapter 21: A Dangerous Addiction

She returns back to her room with a guilt-ridden heart. Her steps are uneven, unsteady, her breath shallow and trembling. The door clicks shut behind her, and she leans her full weight against it, exhaling like she's just escaped something lethal. Her eyes drift closed. Inhale. Exhale. Again. Her chest rises and falls in uneven waves as she tries to cool the fire scorching through her veins.

This is completely outrageous.

Her inner voice is screaming now. What the fuck is her problem?

She had only intended to go over there to talk to him—to correct him, to warn him, to stop him from continuing his devious, selfish act. But he had taken control. Again. He had looked at her with those damned eyes, touched her skin like he owned it, and everything—every principle, every vow—had shattered. She’d melted into him. Again. And now?

Now she’s unraveling.

This is just… insane. Why is it so hard to stop? Why does it feel physically impossible to walk away from him? Her fingers press against her temples, trying to massage out the ache growing behind her eyes. It takes over. It owns her. His scent, his hands, his voice. The way he breathes her name into her neck. It all floods her. And her body—it responds without permission, like it’s been rewired, trained, addicted.

Addicted to him in a way that’s dangerous. Terrifying.

She paces across the room in slow, jerky steps, her feet dragging. She needs to stop this. She knows it. Every inch of her soul screams for her to put an end to it. But no matter how many times she tries to force a line in the sand, it gets washed away the moment he looks at her. And even now, just the thought of him… just the memory of his mouth on her skin… it’s enough to make her knees weak and her body hum.

She climbs into her bed, crawling into the cool sheets like they might offer some kind of peace, and leans her back against the headboard, trying to redirect her thoughts. Think of Gregory. Think of her husband. Her protector. The man who trusts her.

What would Gregory think if he knew?

The very idea sends a cold shiver ripping down her spine. Her teeth clench. Her eyes squeeze shut.

This is going to be outrageously crazy.

If Gregory ever finds out about this—about what she’s done, what she keeps doing—it won’t just destroy her marriage. It’ll destroy her life. Everything will implode. Every thread of normalcy, of decency, will burn to ash. It’ll be catastrophic. So fucking catastrophic.

She lies back, pressing her face into the pillow, trying to suffocate the thoughts before they scream out loud.

“Good Lord, I really need your help with this,” she whispers, clutching the pillow tightly. Her voice is hoarse, cracking under the weight of shame. “This is crazy. You’re watching me right now, I know you are. And you know… this is so wrong. So very, very wrong.”

Her words falter, but she pushes through them, trembling.

“I want to stop. I really do. Because I know this isn’t just sin—it’s betrayal. You’re angry with me, aren’t you? For going against everything I believe in. For letting him touch me. For letting myself fall into this again and again.”

Tears slip out, hot against her temples.

“But I can’t stop. I try. And then I fail. It’s too strong, too deep. I don’t have control anymore.”

She keeps whispering to herself, breathless and desperate, like maybe the prayer will reach somewhere higher than her own broken conscience. Her hands press against her chest as if holding her heart in place. But the trembling doesn’t stop. It only worsens.

That night, silence wraps around the room like a ghost. But inside her, chaos reigns.

She lies in bed alone, the covers tangled around her hips, her nightgown thin and clinging. Her mind should be blank, should be calm—but it’s not. It’s filled with him. Adrian. His hands. His lips. His scent. His voice rasping against her ear.

And then the images start.

His tongue sliding down the length of her throat, his lips devouring her skin, his teeth grazing her nipple until her back arched with wild need. The press of his fingers between her thighs. The heat of his breath against her breast.

She lets out a soft, choked groan and turns over violently, her face buried in the mattress. One hand slams against the bed.

“This is fucking insane,” she hisses through gritted teeth. “Why can’t I just stop?”

Her body writhes against the sheets, the heat between her legs pulsing now, spiraling.

“What the fuck is my problem?” she whispers, her voice hollow and broken, the question repeating like a curse. “Why can’t I stop wanting him?”

She clenches her fists. Her nails bite into her palms. Her thighs squeeze together.

She sits up again, raking her fingers violently through her hair. Her breath is a wreck. Every cell in her body aches with a hunger that disgusts her. She lets herself fall back again, this time fully surrendering.

“I can’t help it,” she whispers.

There’s no strength in the words—just surrender. Her hands tremble as they slide slowly down her body, tracing the curve of her hips, dipping lower, fingers brushing against the smooth flesh of her thigh.

Within seconds, the ache blooms into something unbearable. She closes her eyes, gasping as her fingers find her center and begin to tease, stroking herself with slow, deliberate pressure. Her body jerks at the first contact, a soft moan spilling from her lips.

“Mmm… fuck…”

The tension mounts. Her back arches, lips parting in breathless gasps as she slips one finger inside herself. The slickness is immediate, her body soaked with need, hungry for more. She pushes deeper, whimpering.

She imagines him above her, heavy and solid, pressing her into the bed. Adrian’s hands on her hips, Adrian’s mouth on her breast, his cock sliding into her as she cries out beneath him.

“Oh God… Adrian…” she breathes, trembling as her fingers move faster, thrusting in rhythm, her palm grinding against her clit. Her thighs tremble. Her belly tightens.

The pleasure coils hot and tight, heat building rapidly behind her navel. Her body lifts from the bed, toes curling, breath hitching.

“Ahh—f-fuck…!” she cries out, shuddering violently as her orgasm crashes through her. Her body spasms, pleasure overwhelming every nerve ending, her breath ragged, mouth open, sweat dotting her brow. Her voice breaks into sharp gasps as her thighs clamp together around her hand.

And then silence.

Her body trembles in the aftermath. Shivers roll across her skin as she tries to catch her breath, as the glow of climax fades and guilt comes crawling back like smoke under a closed door. Her fingers slip away, wet and trembling, her chest heaving.

She lies there for a long moment, eyes still shut, trying to collect the fragments of herself.

Then she hears it. Movement.

A creak.

Her eyes snap open. Her head jerks toward the door.

And there he is.

Adrian.

Leaning casually against the doorframe with the door slightly ajar, that smirk on his face like a demon who’s just found his favorite sin indulging herself in secret. His eyes glitter with lust, amusement, danger.

She sits up abruptly, clutching the sheets to her chest, her heart racing so hard she can barely hear over it. Her mouth opens but no words come.

He tilts his head, arms folded, that wicked grin deepening.

“Looks like you really can’t get enough of me,” he murmurs, voice low and laced with dark triumph. “Can you?”