All Chapters of KISS OF HIS BETRAYAL: Chapter 81 - Chapter 90

Once, when I mentioned it to Rob and asked him, he had teased me, winked at me with that smug smile, and walked away without saying a word.I almost believed it was him. He was witty, flirtatious, and always around. The messages came from different numbers, but they always ended the same: Your anonymous admirer.Then over the last few weeks, the tone shifted.The photos became darker, more explicit. Some were real— me and Damon, kissing in the hallway, holding hands or cooking in the kitchen, cuddling and watching a movie. But others were clearly AI-generated.They showed us in sexual acts, intimate positions, naked, touching, in places we’d never been. The lighting was surreal, the backgrounds blurred, the expressions eerily perfect. I ignored them. Told myself they weren’t real. That it was just someone playing a sick joke.One thing became painfully clear to me— those vulgar images weren’t from my anonymous admirer.He had never crossed that line.His messages, though sent from rand

I should have been embarrassed, ashamed even, for letting myself fall apart like that. But under his hands the shame dissolved. I knew I was ruined for good by this man, whom I can call MINE.I had no words for what had been building in me these months — a small, secret hunger that had nothing to do with want and everything to do with needing someone to recognize the shape of me.He looked at me then, and his eyes were different: raw, vulnerable, and wide with something close to madness. It surprised me — the softness and the desperate edge at once — and it slammed through every careful wall I had built. Damon had always been a man whose face read like a closed book; now it was a confession.“Listen to me, Lii” he said, and the steadiness in his voice was a rope I could cling to.“I get it, you're..... still processing. But I meant what I said…. It wasn’t just an emotional blabber. I love you. I always knew you were different, special, and the moment I saw you, you just…. Captivated me

The world shrank to the warmth of his skin against mine. My clothes became an afterthought, slipping away under his careful hands. Each piece he removed, he replaced with a kiss — tender, grounding — until I was bare before him.I flushed, instinctively pulling the blanket to cover myself, but he caught my wrist gently and pressed a kiss into my palm.“You’re beautiful,” he whispered, his gaze dark but tender.“Don’t ever hide from me.”His words stripped away more than any fabric could.When he finally joined me on the bed fully, the feel of his skin against mine stole the air from my lungs. He was warm, solid, overwhelming and yet so careful, his touch never rushing, never taking — only giving.It wasn’t like he hadn’t touched me before— his hands had memorized the curve of my waist, the dip of my spine, the rhythm of my breath. He had kissed me, tasted me, explored me with a hunger that once felt thrilling but familiar. But that night… everything was different.His confession cracke

PAST Shefali's POV:The world seemed to tilt beneath me. Every trace of colour drained from my face. My heart thudded painfully, but it wasn’t love— it was terror.I wriggled, shaking my head in disbelief, but he held me tighter, gripping my shoulder and waist hard but not enough to hurt.“Baby, calm down….. Now you tell me why I would do anything to harm you. Baby, tell me honestly where you harmed in any way?”I shook my head. I was not yet ready to spill the beans.He just sighed and carried me straight into the bathroom, ignoring my half-hearted protests. The tub was already filled, steam curling in the air, scented oils floating on the surface.“You planned this?” I asked, blinking at him, surprised.“Of course. I was waiting for you to wake.” His tone was smug, but his eyes were gentle.“My girl deserves to be cared for and pampered, especially after a long night.”Before I could argue, he set me down carefully on the stool and knelt in front of me. His fingers traced the edge o

PASTShefali's POV:I used to believe that love was something you earned — something you chased, something you proved yourself worthy of. But with Damon, it was different.Love wasn’t loud.It didn’t scream or demand.It was quiet.It was in the way he held my towel before I even reached for it.In the way he kissed my temple when I was buried in spreadsheets.In the way he watched me like I was the only thing keeping him tethered to this world.I was in a daze most days — a soft, golden haze that wrapped around me like silk. Damon was everywhere. He was the warmth in my shower, the arms that wrapped around me when I studied, the voice that murmured “you’re doing great” when I doubted myself.He was obsessive, yes.Possessive, absolutely.But he was also impossibly tender.He couldn’t keep his hands off me.And I didn’t want him to.Even the simplest things — brushing my hair, helping me dress — turned into hours of stolen kisses and whispered promises.Even while washing me, he couldn