Semua Bab Forbidden Affairs : Bab 101 - Bab 110

The sun was already brutal by the time I stepped onto the court. The heat shimmered off the clay in soft, wavering lines, and my skin prickled under the weight of it. I tugged my ponytail tight and tried to ignore the nerves coiling low in my stomach. This wasn’t just any session. This was my first one-on-one with Coach Maddox.Everyone at the training center whispered about him. Former ATP legend. Reputation for being intense, merciless, and brutally focused. They said he made girls cry on the court and didn’t apologize for it. He wasn’t soft. He wasn’t polite. But he built champions.I wasn’t here to cry. I was here to prove I could handle him.He was already waiting when I arrived—leaning against the basket of tennis balls, arms folded across his chest, eyes hidden behind dark shades. His black t-shirt clung to his chest in places, soaked through from the last session. The way he stood—confident, unmoved, absolutely still—made my breath catch before I even realized it had.He didn’

The match was a disaster.Not on the scoreboard—at least not at first—but in my head. Every time I served, I felt him watching. Every time I bent, sprinted, gritted my teeth through a backhand, I imagined him behind me, gripping my hips, muttering filth into my ear.My muscles ached, but it wasn’t from the drills. It was from the tension. The waiting. The wanting.Coach Maddox sat in the private viewing box above the court, arms crossed over his chest, jaw tight, sunglasses shielding his expression. He didn’t shout instructions. He didn’t give his usual sharp, slicing commentary. He just watched. Silent. Stiff. Still.And I made mistakes.Unforced errors. Lazy returns. My focus unraveled. I lost the second set and barely scraped through the third. The second the final ball hit the net and the whistle blew, I didn’t even bother celebrating. I walked off the court like my skin was burning.The others tried to speak to me—smiles, casual claps on the back—but their voices didn’t register.

I didn’t talk to him the next morning. I couldn’t. My hands shook when I poured cereal. My throat locked up when my sister asked how I slept. I could feel Reid’s eyes burning into my back as I stood by the sink, pretending to be fascinated by the trees outside the window. He didn’t say a word either. Not at first.But when he passed behind me to grab a spoon, his hand slid low along my back, fingers grazing the top of my waistband like a promise, and he whispered, just quiet enough for only me to hear, “You taste better than I imagined.”I nearly dropped the bowl.The rest of the morning stretched slow and heavy. Every laugh from my sister sounded too loud. Every breath I took felt stolen. I kept trying to tell myself it hadn’t happened, that maybe I’d dreamed it, but the ache between my legs and the soreness in my lips told the truth. I couldn’t forget the feel of his hand stroking me in the dark, the sound of his voice rasping filth against my neck, the way he had looked at me like

The next morning, Lena sat at the long oak breakfast table with a cup of untouched coffee. Her fingers trembled around the porcelain mug. The bright mountain sunlight streamed through the tall windows, casting golden lines across the floor. Outside, birds chirped as if the night before hadn’t happened.But it had. Her body still felt the imprint of him. Every time she shifted in her seat, she remembered the weight of his hands. The roughness of his voice. The sound he made when he finished inside her. Her thighs were sore. Her lips tender. Her guilt growing.Ethan entered the kitchen with messy hair and a crooked smile, still stretching from sleep. “Morning, babe.”She managed a thin smile. “Hey.”He leaned down and kissed the top of her head, too distracted to notice how she stiffened. He didn’t ask why she hadn’t come to bed last night. He didn’t ask why she looked like she hadn’t slept. He poured himself orange juice and wandered back out toward the living room.Her stomach churned

Mia sat at the edge of the tub, hot water steaming up around her, but no amount of heat could chase away the bruises blooming across her thighs or the ache between her legs. She ran a trembling hand over her chest, remembering every touch, every kiss, every thrust. They hadn’t taken her like a woman they cherished. They had devoured her like something they owned. And the worst part was she had wanted it. Every second of it. Even now, hours later, her skin still craved more. Her body had been used, her soul branded. And still she ached for their hands again.She heard voices downstairs. Laughter. Cups clinking. She should’ve packed and left. She should’ve slipped out while they slept. But her suitcase was still upstairs. Her feet still rooted to the tile. She had made her choice the moment she let Theo between her legs with her husband watching. There was no pretending now.When she came down in jeans and a hoodie, trying to blend back into reality, the men looked up from their brunch