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Reality Reignited

Author: Keodiniah
last update Last Updated: 2025-09-23 21:00:00

Emma’s POV

The hum of the espresso machine was a familiar comfort, but this morning, it felt foreign—like the sound didn’t belong in the same rhythm as my breathing. I stood barefoot in our kitchen, still wrapped in the warm afterglow of our Italian escape, but the calendar was unforgiving. Today marked the beginning of our return to normal life—work, meetings, school runs, and responsibilities.

Killian had already showered, dressed in one of his tailored charcoal suits, and was reviewing emails like he hadn’t just spent a week making love to me beneath the stars of Tuscany.

I, on the other hand, hadn’t even brushed my hair.

Alina chattered away at the breakfast bar, spooning cereal into her mouth between animated stories about the “giant chocolate cake in Italy,” while her baby brother snoozed in his bassinet nearby. His tiny fists were curled up under his chin like he had not a care in the world. I envied that.
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  • Ruthless Temptation   Temptation Behind Glass

    Emma’s POV It had been three days since we got back from Italy, but the memory of that night still lingered on my skin like summer heat. The soft grass beneath my back, the hush of the olive trees swaying above us, and Killian’s hands on my hips, moving like they owned every inch of me—because they did. That garden had become our secret world. Now, I sat in my pristine office, surrounded by glass walls and deadlines, wearing a crisp navy dress that hugged my body in all the right places. But all I could think about was the feel of Killian’s mouth on my thighs under the moonlight. My fingers hovered over my keyboard, completely useless. I had called this meeting to discuss a merger. But I wanted nothing more than to merge with him again, against the polished surface of his desk. A soft knock. And there he was. Killian stepped inside like a

  • Ruthless Temptation   Reality Reignited

    Emma’s POV The hum of the espresso machine was a familiar comfort, but this morning, it felt foreign—like the sound didn’t belong in the same rhythm as my breathing. I stood barefoot in our kitchen, still wrapped in the warm afterglow of our Italian escape, but the calendar was unforgiving. Today marked the beginning of our return to normal life—work, meetings, school runs, and responsibilities. Killian had already showered, dressed in one of his tailored charcoal suits, and was reviewing emails like he hadn’t just spent a week making love to me beneath the stars of Tuscany. I, on the other hand, hadn’t even brushed my hair. Alina chattered away at the breakfast bar, spooning cereal into her mouth between animated stories about the “giant chocolate cake in Italy,” while her baby brother snoozed in his bassinet nearby. His tiny fists were curled up under his chin like he had not a care in the world. I envied that.

  • Ruthless Temptation   Back to Reality, But Not Apart

    Emma’s POV The villa felt quieter on the last morning, as if the walls themselves were reluctant to let us go. Soft sunlight filtered through the gauzy curtains, casting golden streaks across the tiled floor. A bird chirped from a nearby olive tree, the air still warm with the scent of lemon trees and distant salt from the coast. I stood in the doorway of the nursery-style guest room where Amelie slept soundly in her travel crib, her tiny fists curled beside her cheeks, her lips slightly parted in sleep. Her breathing was slow and rhythmic, innocent in a way that made my chest ache. We’d packed the suitcases the night before—carefully folding the baby’s onesies, Alina’s twirly dresses, souvenirs and memories wrapped in tissue. Everything was ready. Except me. I wasn’t ready. I didn’t want to return to alarms, daycare drop-offs, endless meetings, and the pressure that seemed to sit permanently betwe

  • Ruthless Temptation    A Night Just for Us

    Killian’s POV Italy had a way of making everything feel like a dream. The warm breeze, the scent of lemon groves, the distant hum of cicadas, and the terracotta-tiled villa we’d rented nestled in the hills of Tuscany—it all felt like something pulled straight out of a fantasy. The villa sat perched on a hill, overlooking a patchwork of vineyards and olive groves that stretched into the golden horizon. The girls had finally drifted off after a long, joy-filled day—Alina curled around her stuffed unicorn and Amelie snoring softly in the crib beside her. Their little faces were peaceful, their energy spent from running through cobblestone alleys and devouring way too much gelato. And for the first time in weeks, the house was still. Blissfully still. Emma had just stepped out of the shower, her hair damp and curling at the ends, wearing one of my white shirts that stopped high on her thighs. God, she was beautiful—b

  • Ruthless Temptation   Finding Each Other Again

    Emma’s POV It was the little things that made the difference. Killian brought me coffee in bed, even when it meant tiptoeing around Alina’s toy minefield and avoiding the creaky floorboard in the hallway that always threatened to wake the baby. He left handwritten notes on the fridge when he left for work early—little scribbles that said You’re amazing or Thanks for last night. I’m still grinning. Some mornings, he even packed Alina’s lunchbox himself, complete with napkin doodles and notes that made her giggle at school. And I noticed it all. Every gesture. Every quiet offering of love wrapped in domesticity. Despite the sweetness, despite how perfectly we’d settled into our chaotic little world with two daughters, two demanding careers, and an endless rotation of laundry cycles and bedtime routines… there was still something missing. Us. Not the practical, day-to-day version of us—

  • Ruthless Temptation   The Toddler Trials & Midnight Feedings

    Emma’s POV Somewhere between breastfeeding, burping, and convincing Alina that she couldn’t put makeup on her baby sister, I lost track of the last time I’d slept a full night. My days were a blur of feedings, diapers, endless lullabies, and high-pitched toddler negotiations. “Why is she crying again?” Alina whined from the hallway as I bounced the baby on my shoulder. “I gave her my favorite bunny!” “She doesn’t want a bunny right now,” I said through a yawn, “she wants a boob.” “Ew, Mama.” I laughed despite the exhaustion. Being a mother of two was like juggling fire while walking a tightrope on two hours of sleep. I loved every second of it—and hated it, too. There were moments of absolute joy and others where I questioned my sanity. The baby—Amelie—was beautiful, soft, and endlessly hungry. Alina, on the other hand, was a firecracker. Curious, emotional, and fierce

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