All Chapters of HIS FORBIDDEN TEMPTATION : Chapter 141 - Chapter 150

I leaned one elbow on Angelo's desk, trying to shake off the leftover storm from last night. He was typing something furiously on his laptop, glasses perched low on his nose, but the second he noticed me, he stopped."Where did you run off to last night?" he asked, peering over the screen. "You scared the hell out of everyone."I sighed, offering a sheepish smile. "I’m sorry. I didn’t mean to worry anyone. I just... needed a moment to breathe."Angelo’s brows pulled together. He looked at me a second longer, then gave a small, resigned nod. "Next time, just text one of us. It doesn’t matter who—me, Mr De Vito, Matteo. Someone. We were searching for you all over the damn place."I nodded quickly. "I will. Promise."He didn’t press further, which I appreciated. I gave him a grateful smile and pushed off his desk. "I’m going to make Mr De Vito some coffee. As an apology.""Black. No sugar," Angelo called after me.Like I didn’t already know.I walked down the corridor to the private kitc

The drive started in silence.Not awkward silence, not exactly. Just… charged. Like the air between us carried the ghost of something said, or something that should’ve been said last night.I stared out the tinted window of the sleek black car as the city blurred past, my hands twisting in my lap. Every so often, I’d catch Mr Salvatore glancing at me from the corner of my eye—those unreadable, electric eyes of his watching me with a curiosity that made my stomach flutter.When I finally looked at him, he grinned like he’d been waiting for me to do that.“You look like you’re being driven to your execution,” he said, lips twitching with amusement.“I’m just thinking,” I replied, sitting a little straighter.“You were thinking last night too,” he said, tilting his head toward me. “Only difference is, you were drunk then. Much more honest.”I shot him a glare. “I wasn’t drunk.”He gave a soft chuckle. “Right. You just couldn’t walk straight, slurred half your words, and insisted on singi

The sun had begun to dip behind the steel beams of the half-finished hotel, painting the skeletal structure in warm gold and sharp shadows. I wiped my brow with the back of my hand and stepped back to admire the day's work—our work. The glass panels were up on the west side, and the structural reinforcements for the rooftop terrace were finally done.It was coming together.My heart swelled with quiet pride. This wasn’t just a project. It was a statement. My statement. My fingerprint etched into concrete and steel.I turned to pack up, expecting Mr Salvatore to have left long ago. But when I looked across the site, there he was—still here.Still watching me.Still making it impossible to breathe right.He stood with one hand in his pocket, his blazer tossed casually over his shoulder, sleeves rolled up to his forearms. The way the dying sunlight caught in his hair made him look like something carved out of golden marble.“You didn’t go back to the office?” I asked, brushing my hands o

He didn’t give me time to think.The moment the word “you” left my mouth—ragged, torn from the depths of something wild—Lorenzo moved.He dropped his belt to the floor with a heavy clink, and his hands were on me again—rough, sure, commanding. He didn’t ask if I was ready.He didn’t need to.I was soaked, trembling, desperate for him in ways I couldn’t begin to explain. My thighs were slick, my core clenching around nothing, aching for the stretch only he could give me.He gripped my hips, hard, and pulled me flush against him. I could feel the thick, heavy press of him through his slacks, hot even through the fabric. It made my breath hitch. My fingers clawed at his shirt, yanking it out of his waistband, dragging it up his chest.“You drive me insane,” he growled against my throat, kissing, biting. “Do you even know what you do to me?”“I think I’m starting to,” I breathed, shivering as he slid a hand up my bare stomach and cupped my breast, thumb flicking over my nipple with wicked

Emily passed out the second I collapsed beside her. Her body was limp, wrecked, boneless against the ruined sheets. She didn't even stir as I pulled her closer, her breath brushing over my chest in soft, shallow waves. I was still inside her, buried so deep it felt like leaving her would tear something vital out of me. And maybe it would. I stayed like that for a moment. My hand trailing up and down her spine, my cock twitching lazily inside her heat. I couldn’t stop touching her—couldn’t believe she was real. The way she gave herself to me, without fear, without hesitation. Like she belonged to me. She moaned softly in her sleep, and my cock throbbed in response. Fuck. I couldn’t stay inside her forever, though every damn part of me wanted to. I groaned low, pulling out slow, careful not to wake her. She whimpered. A sleepy, breathy sound that made me curse under my breath. It went straight to my cock again. "Shit," I muttered, dragging a hand through my hair, trying to wil