Epilogue ~ Free Chapter Preview: Max & Ava — Uncontracted Desire: Twisted Affection

In case you didn’t catch the Author’s Note…

Before you step into this next scene, I want to let you know that what you’re about to read is not part of Nora and Noah’s main story.

This is a sneak peek, a doorway into the next chapter of this universe, a story that has been demanding to be told even while this book was still unfolding.

Ava and Max have always existed on the edges.

Complicated. Messy.

Too stubborn to love, too wounded to admit they want to.

And yet… something between them has been simmering beneath every argument, every glare, every accidental moment they shared.

This epilogue is where their story begins.

I’m offering it here, freely, because I want you, the readers who walked every step with Nora and Noah, to experience the spark before deciding what comes next.

If this world should continue…

If Max and Ava’s chaos should evolve into a full book…

If Uncontracted Desire: Twisted Affection deserves to be born… then your votes and your support will be the deciding voice.

For now, enjoy this glimpse.

Step into their moment.

And when you reach the end, let your heart tell you whether their story should continue.

Now… let’s begin.

sϖϖϖϖϖ

Ten Months Later

The hospital hallway smelled of antiseptic and roses. An odd combination, Nora thought, just as another wave of pain tore through her. She gripped the edge of the bed and forced herself to breathe, the way Faith had taught her in those chaotic prenatal classes. In through the nose… out through the mouth.

Beside her, Noah looked paler than the sheets. He squeezed her hand… much harder than necessary… as she let out a guttural groan.

“You’re doing amazing,” he said, though his voice trembled.

“Next time,” she gasped, “you’re having the baby.”

“Gladly. Just… uh—remind me how?”

She glared at him.

Faith chuckled behind her mask, watching the monitor. “Okay, Nora, we’re almost there. Baby is coming.”

Noah leaned close. “You’re about to meet our daughter, remember?”

Daughter.

“Son!” Nora yelled, teeth clenched, tears brimming.

For months, they’d dreamed of this, painting the nursery in soft blues and gray, buying onesies embroidered with Bamford Baby, arguing endlessly about the gender. None of it mattered now. Not really. Because nothing, absolutely nothing, prepared them for what came next.

A cry.

Then… another.

Two distinct wails.

Noah blinked. “Wait… two? Faith?”

Faith laughed behind her mask. “Surprise! You didn’t just have one… it’s twins!”

“What?” Nora gasped.

“One of them was hiding during the scans. Tucked so far up the ribcage, the ultrasound didn’t catch it. Rare, but it happens.”

Nora started to sob… this time from joy.

Faith placed the first baby in her arms, wrapped in soft pink. “A healthy baby girl.”

A nurse handed Noah a second tiny bundle, wrapped in blue. “And a strong baby boy.”

Nora looked down at the girl in her arms. Tiny. Perfect. Her little face scrunching as she yawned. Her throat tightened.

Was this possible? Was the universe rewriting her grief?

Then she looked at the boy in Noah’s arms, and something inside her broke open.

No.

It wasn’t rewriting.

It was restoring.

They came back to me.

“Noah,” she whispered, “I want to name him Oliver.”

He froze, eyes widening. “After…?”

She nodded. “And her… Charlotte.”

Faith discreetly stepped back. Even Rosa, who had stood stiffly at the door through the entire labor - moved closer. Her expression softened.

“They look…” she swallowed, “they look like they belong.”

Nora looked up. Rosa didn’t smile, but she didn’t scorn either. And in Bamford language, that was practically a declaration of love.

“I see you in your son,” Rosa added. “Strong, stubborn, protective.” Her gaze slid to Charlotte and her full head of dark curls. “And her… she looks like a fighter already.”

Noah’s smile was pure sunlight. “Runs in the family.”

For once, Rosa agreed. “It does.”

That evening, the hospital room overflowed with friends and family. Lucas brought flowers and balloons. Mira nearly dropped one of the twins trying to take a selfie. Faith floated around like a proud aunt.

Even Max showed up late, unshaven, slightly hungover but wearing a boyish grin.

“I brought diapers,” he announced, tossing a jumbo pack onto the table. “Figured no one else would.”

“You’re actually useful for once,” Noah muttered.

“I try.” Max leaned toward the twins. “So, these are Oliver and Charlotte, huh?” His smirk faded as he stared. “Damn… they’re real.”

Nora laughed. “Did you think we made them up?”

“With this family? Anything is possible.”

He stayed l,ate, helping clean up as everyone trickled out. He passed Ava, who had come with Mira, without a word, but their eyes caught for a fraction of a second. Enough to send a jolt straight through her. Her makeup was a little smudged, her cheeks flushed. She said nothing.

But the real beginning wasn’t a kiss or a confession. It was the night Ava gave Max a lift... a night neither of them understood at the time, but one that changed everything.

*****

The Next Morning

Ava woke to the sound of birds chirping… obnoxiously bright, painfully alive, and entirely disrespectful to the pounding in her skull.

Her eyes snapped open, and for a full second, her brain refused to process what it was seeing.

This ceiling wasn’t hers. The chandelier definitely wasn’t hers.

And the sheets?

Silk… good silk. The kind she mocked people for buying to feel wealthy.

A slow, creeping dread climbed her spine.

She pushed herself upright, breath catching as the room finally sharpened into focus. The air smelled of something warm, expensive, and infuriatingly masculine. A cologne she had sworn she would never forget after one disastrous interaction.

Her pulse kicked hard.

No.

No way.

Her gaze drifted across the room, tracing shadows, discarded clothes, and then…

Her entire body went cold.

Max Jordan.

Max.

Nora’s assistant.

Mr. Barely-a-threat.

Mr. Annoyingly calm.

Mr. Let-me-serve-my-boss-and-mind-my-business.

He lay beside her, half-covered by the sheets, chest exposed, muscles defined in a way she did not remember clearly, although her body certainly did.

His hair was a mess, his breathing steady, his hand… God… his hand had been resting exactly where she had just sat up.

A bolt of memory slammed into her so sharply she tasted metal.

Flashes.

Heat.

His voice. Her legs around…

“No,” she breathed. Not loud. Not soft. A raw, strangled denial.

Her hand flew to her mouth, as if she could press the truth back down her throat.

I did not do this. I could not have done this.

Not with him.

Her heartbeat turned violent, the room tilting with the force of it. She felt sick. Not from alcohol… this was pride collapsing, ego shattering, and reality splitting open.

She squeezed her eyes shut.

“Oh God,” she whispered. “Tell me I didn’t…”

But she already knew. Her body knew.

The marks on her hips knew… the hot wetness between her…

Max shifted slightly, and panic hit her so hard she almost tumbled off the bed.

Everything inside her screamed one single command:

Run.

Without wasting a second, Ava slid out of bed, wrapped herself in a sheet, and tiptoed to the door. She grabbed the handle…

Click.

Locked.

“What…?” she hissed, shaking it harder. No key.

“You have got to be kidding me.”

Trapped. Naked. In Max Jordan’s bed.

The same night, Nora gave birth to twins; Ava had somehow managed to create an entirely different kind of disaster.

She sank to the floor, sheet clutched to her chest, hair wild, dignity gone. Her ex just had twins. And here she was…

A walking scandal.

Across the room, Max stretched in his sleep, blissfully unaware. Ava glared at him like she was genuinely considering murder by pillow.

“This cannot be my rock bottom… right?” she whispered.

But maybe it was.

Or maybe… maybe this was the beginning of a story she never planned to write.

To be continued… in Uncontracted Desire: Twisted Affection