Semua Bab Forbidden Affairs : Bab 11 - Bab 20

The church smelled the same as it did in her childhood—aged wood, faint incense, and the kind of silence that pressed down on your chest like guilt.Mara hadn’t been in here in years. Not since she was seventeen and still believed in salvation. Back when she thought confession could cleanse anything if you just cried hard enough. But she wasn’t here for God. Not anymore.She slipped into the cool building like a thief, her heels muffled against the worn, cracked tiles. A chill lingered in the air despite the summer heat outside, wrapping around her bare shoulders like penance. The sanctuary was dim, lit by the last breath of afternoon sun bleeding through stained glass and a handful of flickering votive candles that seemed too weak to keep the shadows at bay.Her eyes found the altar. Empty. Good.She didn’t want an audience. Only him.Her gaze slid to the side aisle—to the old wooden confessionals. The same ones that had once filled her with dread. Back then, they represented shame,

They never meant to let it go this far.At first, it was just a kiss. A slip. A single sin ignited in a moment of weakness.But now, it’s a ritual.Mara is drunk on him—the way his hands tremble when they trace the outline of her hips, the way his voice fractures when he breathes her name like a sacred curse. She craves the crack in his composure, the flicker of fire in a man sworn to water. The more he tries to drown it, the more it burns.She’s high on the scent of him lingering on her skin long after he’s gone. On the sting of his stubble against her inner thighs. On the weight of him kneeling between her legs in the confessional booth, rosary beads digging into his palms as his tongue delivers salvation in the form of sin.She’s lost count of how many times it’s happened. How many times he’s buried himself in her with eyes clenched shut, as if pretending not to see would somehow make it less real. They’ve done it everywhere now—recklessly, desperately. In the rectory. The sacristy

Grayson’s POVI didn’t sleep a damn minute.Her scent was still on my hands.The moment I walked away from her last night, my body rebelled. Every part of me screamed to go back, rip that shirt off her perfect body, and take her right there on the kitchen counter. But I didn’t. Because she was Chloe’s best friend. Because I was supposed to be the adult in the room.And because once I truly had her, there would be no going back.The morning passed in a blur of coffee, cold showers, and self-restraint.She didn’t come downstairs.Good. Smart girl.But by late afternoon, the skies turned gray. Rain pattered against the windows, distant thunder rumbled. I poured myself a drink, sat in my study, and tried to read. The words blurred.Then I heard it—soft footsteps in the hallway. Bare feet on hardwood.I didn’t move. Didn’t turn.The door creaked open.“I didn’t mean to interrupt,” she said softly. “The storm’s kind of loud.”I turned my head.She was standing there in leggings and a tight

Aria’s POVThe moment my back hit the bedroom door, I knew we were tempting fate.Grayson didn’t even wait until we reached the bed. His mouth was on mine, hands already pulling at my clothes like he’d been starving for days, like every second apart had been torture. I felt the same.“You’re gonna get us caught,” I whispered against his lips as he stripped me down to nothing.His answer was a growl—deep and reckless. “Then scream into the pillow.”He bent me over the edge of the bed, fingers gripping my hips like he owned me. And in that moment—he did. Every breath, every nerve in my body belonged to him.His thrusts were hard, relentless, filled with every ounce of heat we’d been bottling up.Slap. Slap. Slap.My moans were muffled by the mattress, but they spilled out anyway. I didn’t care. I couldn’t. The forbidden thrill of it only made me wetter, louder, needier.We should’ve stopped.We knew better.But we couldn’t help ourselves.Because some sins tasted too good to resist.The

I stood in front of their penthouse door, heart racing like a schoolgirl on the edge of her first kiss. Only this wasn’t a kiss. This was a step into something darker, deeper—something that had already left its mark on my skin and psyche. When Vivian opened the door, barefoot and draped in a crimson satin robe that slid off one shoulder, I nearly forgot how to speak. “Come in, baby,” she said with a smile that wasn’t innocent at all. I stepped inside. The lights were dim, scented candles flickered in elegant holders, casting golden shadows over the high-ceilinged room. Soft music played—a sultry jazz tune I couldn’t name but suddenly felt in my bones. It was all designed to seduce… and it was working. “You’re nervous,” she murmured as she helped me out of my coat. “I’ve never done anything like this.” Vivian tilted my chin up. “Neither have we. Not like this. But we’ve thought about it. Dreamt about it. You, sweet girl, you’re not just fantasy. You’re ours.” Before I coul