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Thirty-Nine: The Taste of Risks
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2025-06-21 15:30:57Adam Lewiston
The cursor blinked at the center of the screen.I sat motionless in my office, one elbow resting on the arm of my chair, fingers lightly pressed against my lips—still remembering the way Lu's lips had felt against mine. Soft, warm, real. A fleeting moment stolen in his apartment.The silence around me was absolute, but inside my head, it was anything but. A cacophony of objections from my logical, calculating self, drowned out by a persistent, almost desperate yearning. My eyes remained fixed on the page in front of me. Le Cordon Bleu – New York Campus. One of the most prestigious culinary schools in the country. No—the most prestigious. And one of the most expensive, of course.It wasn’t the tuition fees that had me hesitating. It was the look I imagined on Lu’s face if he ever saw this. That wide-eyed mix of disbelief and joy. The same look he'd worn when I'd surprised him with a new, industrial-grade blender for the truck, replaci
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The Billionaire's Sunshine Thirty-Nine: The Taste of Risks
Adam LewistonThe cursor blinked at the center of the screen.I sat motionless in my office, one elbow resting on the arm of my chair, fingers lightly pressed against my lips—still remembering the way Lu's lips had felt against mine. Soft, warm, real. A fleeting moment stolen in his apartment.The silence around me was absolute, but inside my head, it was anything but. A cacophony of objections from my logical, calculating self, drowned out by a persistent, almost desperate yearning. My eyes remained fixed on the page in front of me. Le Cordon Bleu – New York Campus. One of the most prestigious culinary schools in the country. No—the most prestigious. And one of the most expensive, of course.It wasn’t the tuition fees that had me hesitating. It was the look I imagined on Lu’s face if he ever saw this. That wide-eyed mix of disbelief and joy. The same look he'd worn when I'd surprised him with a new, industrial-grade blender for the truck, replaci
The Billionaire's Sunshine Thirty-Eight: Between the Heat and Hunger
Lillium Roosevelt The warmth from the shower still clung to my skin, trailing steam with me as I stepped quietly back into the living room, towel draped around my shoulders and hair damp against my forehead. The apartment was quiet, the kind of quiet that pressed in, amplifying the frantic beat of my own heart. And there he was—Dominus—curled awkwardly on the couch like he hadn’t slept in years. His head rested against a throw pillow, one arm cradling his side where the fresh bandages held firm. His breathing was even, deep. The tension he always carried in his face, the perpetual scowl that seemed etched into his very being, had vanished, replaced by something boyish and unguarded. It didn’t suit him. This vulnerable slump of humanity was foreign, unsettling. But somehow, it made sense. Beneath the carefully constructed facade of the ruthless collector, was a man. A man who, like everyone else, needed sleep, needed comfort
The Billionaire's Sunshine Thirty-Seven: When the Devil Prays
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