LOGINBehind every locked door lies a secret… For Elena, it’s the hunger she hides from her cold and distant husband. For Adrian, it’s the forbidden desire he feels for the one woman he should never touch—his stepmother. What begins as stolen glances and teasing remarks quickly spirals into something dangerous. Behind closed doors, guilt turns into obsession, lust turns into fire, and the line between right and wrong disappears. But how long can they keep their dirty secret before it explodes, tearing the family apart? A forbidden romance dripping with passion, danger, and irresistible temptation.
View MoreThe days blurred into a haze of stolen moments and whispered sins.Elena moved through the mansion like a ghost in her own life—smiling at Richard over breakfast, nodding at his endless conference calls, all while her body hummed with the memory of Adrian’s hands, his mouth, the way he’d claimed her again and again until she forgot how to breathe without him inside her.Richard noticed nothing.Or so she told herself.But Adrian noticed everything.He watched her across the dinner table with eyes that stripped her bare, his foot sliding up her calf beneath the linen cloth while Richard droned on about stock prices. He cornered her in the pantry while she reached for wine, pressing her against the shelves, fingers slipping beneath her dress to tease her through lace already soaked for him.“You’re thinking about me,” he’d murmur, nipping her earlobe. “Even when he’s talking. Even when he kisses your cheek goodnight.”And she was. God help her, she was.The jealousy started small.A fli
The next morning dawned with a deceptive calm, sunlight spilling across the marble floors like liquid gold. Elena woke alone in her bed, the sheets twisted around her legs, the faint ache between her thighs a constant reminder of the night before. Adrian’s scent lingered on the pillow beside her—musk and sex and something darker, something that made her stomach clench with equal parts dread and hunger.Richard was already gone, his side of the bed cold and untouched. A note on the nightstand in his precise handwriting: Early meeting. Back by lunch. Love you.She stared at the words until they blurred. Love. What a hollow sound it made now.Her phone buzzed. Pool. Ten minutes. Wear the red bikini.Adrian. Her pulse spiked. The red bikini was a relic from a long-ago vacation with Richard—tiny triangles of fabric that barely contained her curves. She hadn’t worn it in years. She should ignore him. Should delete the message, lock her door, and pretend last night had been a fever dream.
The sun had barely crested the horizon when Elena’s phone buzzed on the nightstand.Richard.She stared at the screen, his name glowing like an accusation, then silenced it and rolled onto her stomach, burying her face in the pillow that still smelled of Adrian’s skin. Her body ached in places it hadn’t ached in years, sweet bruises blooming beneath the silk of her nightgown, bite marks on the inside of her thigh that throbbed every time she shifted. She should feel filthy.She should feel broken.Instead, she felt alive, electric, every nerve humming with the memory of Adrian’s mouth, his hands, the way he’d stretched her open and filled her until she forgot her own name.Another buzz.Flight lands at 7 p.m. Can’t wait to see you.Richard was coming home tonight. The thought should have doused the fire in her belly. Instead it fanned it. The clock was ticking. The mansion would no longer be their private playground. Doors would have to stay locked. Lies would have to be perfected.
The steam from the bathtub still clung to Elena's skin like a lover's breath, thick and heavy, as she lay sprawled across the cool marble floor where Adrian had left her moments ago. Her body trembled uncontrollably, not from the chill of the tiles seeping into her bare back, but from the fire he'd ignited deep inside her—a fire that refused to be quenched, no matter how fiercely her mind screamed that this was betrayal, that this was ruin. Water dripped from her hair, pooling around her shoulders, mixing with the slick evidence of her arousal that still coated her inner thighs. She pressed her legs together, a futile attempt to stifle the throbbing ache between them, but it only heightened the sensation, making her gasp softly into the empty bathroom.How had it come to this? Just minutes earlier, she'd been soaking in lavender-scented water, trying to wash away the sins of the previous nights—the teasing glances, the midnight kitchen encounter, the stolen kiss in her bedroom that ha


















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