His Obsession with the Wrong Bride

The night smelled of roses and rain.The streets were slick from the evening downpour, glittering under the pale glow of the streetlamps. I clutched the bouquet tighter against my chest, pacing anxiously by the gates of our family estate. Tomorrow was supposed to be the happiest day of my twin sister’s life, but Alyssa hadn’t returned from her late-night drive.“She’s probably just clearing her head,” I whispered, though my heart beat too fast to believe it.Then it happened.A sharp screech shattered the stillness, followed by the sickening crunch of metal against metal.My blood froze. The bouquet slipped from my grasp, petals scattering across the wet pavement as I bolted toward the sound.“Alyssa!” My scream tore from my throat, raw and broken.Her car was crushed against a lamppost, smoke hissing from the hood. Shards of glass littered the asphalt like broken stars, and through the jagged window I saw her slumped forward, her veil tangled in her dark hair.“No, no, no…” I yanked

Sunlight streamed through the curtains, soft and golden, but it only made me more aware of the heat beside me.Adrian’s arm was draped across my waist, heavy and possessive even in sleep. His chest rose and fell against my back, his breath warm against my neck. Every part of me ached, a constant reminder of what had happened last night.What I had let happen.My body still trembled from the memory—his hands, his voice, the way he demanded every sound from my lips until I was undone. My cheeks burned just thinking about it.But then guilt clawed its way back in. He thought he had made love to Alyssa, his bride. Not me. He had whispered forever to the wrong woman.I squeezed my eyes shut, swallowing the lump in my throat. I shouldn’t have let it go that far. I shouldn’t—“You’re awake.”His deep voice startled me. Before I could move, his grip tightened, pulling me flush against him. He pressed a slow kiss to the side of my neck, and I shivered.“You were moaning my name in your sleep,”

The house was quiet by the time we returned to the bedroom, but my heartbeat was anything but calm. Every step echoed in my ears, every memory of his lips against mine in the garden still burning on my skin. Adrian closed the door behind us with a soft click, and that sound alone made my stomach twist with both dread and desire. He loosened his tie slowly, his eyes never leaving mine. “You kept me waiting all day, wife,” he murmured, his voice low and dangerous. “Do you know how many times I wanted to drag you out of that breakfast room and bend you over the table?” My lips parted in shock. “Adrian—” “Don’t pretend you didn’t feel it too.” He stalked toward me, shedding his jacket. “The way you trembled every time I touched you. The way you flushed when I kissed you in front of them. You’re addicted to me.” I shook my head, though my body betrayed me, heat flooding my cheeks. “You’re wrong.” His smirk was sharp. “Then prove it. Tell me to stop. Tell me you don’t want me.” My voi

The room was quiet, save for the soft hum of the city outside and the faint crackle of the fireplace. Yet the silence between us wasn’t calm—it was thick, heavy, suffocating. Adrian lounged against the headboard, one arm draped lazily over his knee, his tie hanging loose around his neck. His chest was bare, the hard planes of muscle catching the firelight in a way that made my stomach tighten.His eyes, dark and consuming, never left me.“Take it off.”The command snapped through the air like a whip.My throat tightened. “W-what?”“Your dress.” His lips curved into something that was neither a smile nor a smirk—something far darker. “Strip. For me.”My body froze. Heat rushed up my neck, my hands instinctively clutching the silk fabric tighter against my skin. “Adrian… please—”“Now,” he said, sharper this time. “Don’t make me repeat myself.”That dangerous tone left no room for argument. My heart thundered as my fingers fumbled with the straps, sliding them down my shoulders. The sil

The room was quiet, the weight of the night pressing down on me. I had finally managed to drift into sleep when strong hands slid around my waist, pulling me back against a body I could never mistake. “Adrian…” I mumbled, half-asleep, my voice groggy. “Wake up,” he murmured against my neck, his lips grazing my skin. His tone was low, hungry, dangerous. “I’m not finished with you yet.” My eyes flew open, panic stirring in my chest. “It’s the middle of the night—” “I don’t care,” he cut in, his mouth hot on my shoulder. “When I want you, I’ll take you. Time doesn’t matter. Nothing matters except this.” His words wrapped around me like chains. He rolled me onto my back, straddling me, his eyes glowing in the dim light. He reached for his discarded tie from earlier, the silk smooth between his fingers. “Hands up,” he ordered. “Adrian, please…” My protest was weak, my body already trembling with anticipation and dread. “Now.” The command left no room for defiance. Slowly, hesitant