All Chapters of Forbidden Affairs : Chapter 31 - Chapter 40

It started with a look.Not just any look—a lingering, heat-soaked, boundary-breaking look. One that sent something electric crawling down my spine and pooling low in my belly.I told myself it was a mistake. That I imagined it.But the way Marianne, my wife’s mother, watched me from across the kitchen that night said otherwise.We had only been living at her place for a week. Just until our new apartment was ready. Emma and I were both grateful—Marianne’s house was beautiful, tucked in the outskirts of town, quiet and green and smelling like roses and warm bread.Emma worked longer shifts than I did. She was a nurse, and nights often swallowed her whole. I had a remote tech job, which meant I was home most of the time—sometimes alone with Marianne.Not that I minded. She was easy to talk to. Smart, graceful. Her laugh could shake the silence of the house like wind through old curtains.But it was how she looked at me that started to disturb me.Not right away. It began as stolen glan

I woke up in a bed that didn’t belong to me, tangled in sheets that smelled like vanilla and sweat.Her scent.Her skin.Her sin.The morning sun filtered through the sheer curtains, casting soft gold across Marianne’s bare back. She was still asleep, her body curled under the covers, hair sprawled over the pillow like a halo. She looked peaceful. Innocent. But I knew better. That woman was temptation in its purest form—and I’d given in.Twice.And I wanted more.But guilt slammed into me like a freight train.Emma.My wife.I ran a hand down my face and sat up. My body ached with satisfaction, and still, even now, I was hard. Just the sight of her lying there—lips slightly parted, marks from my mouth still lingering on her breasts—made blood rush south again.I had to leave.I slipped out of the bed quietly, grabbing my pants and shirt, heart pounding like I was a teenager sneaking out of a girl’s house. I glanced over my shoulder once more.Her eyes were open.And she was smiling.N

I couldn’t focus the rest of the day.Not on work, not on the laundry, not even on the half-hearted text from Jake saying he’d be sleeping at the hospital due to a night shift. My brain was stuck on Damon—his dare, his voice, the way he looked at me like I was something sinful he couldn’t wait to taste.And the worst part? I didn’t want to resist anymore.It was well past midnight when I crept out of bed, heart racing. I told myself I was just going to get water. That’s all. Just water.But I passed the kitchen.And ended up in front of his door.I didn’t knock. I couldn’t. I stood there, breathing fast, my hand twitching at my side. The door opened before I could make a decision.Damon was shirtless again, in loose grey sweats, his chest glistening under the soft hallway light. His eyes were already dark with knowing.“You’re not here for water,” he murmured.I swallowed hard. “I didn’t say anything.”“You didn’t have to.” He leaned against the doorframe. “Ready to play again?”My li

When Mom said I’d be staying at Uncle Marcus’s place for the summer, I didn’t think twice.It made sense—college dorms were closed, and my internship was in town. And with Dad gone, Marcus was technically my closest family. But I hadn’t seen him since I was fifteen. Back then, he was just “Uncle Marcus,” Dad’s rugged older brother with a quiet voice and a mysterious past.But standing on his front porch now, suitcase in hand and nerves humming, I realized something had changed. Maybe it was me. Maybe it was him. Or maybe it was the way his eyes traveled down my body before they landed on my face.“Didn’t think you’d grow up this much,” he muttered, stepping aside to let me in.His voice was gravel—rough, low, and not nearly as indifferent as he tried to sound.I gave him a small smile, brushing past him. “It’s been a few years.”He smelled like cedarwood and smoke. Not cologne—something natural. Something male. Something I shouldn’t have noticed.The house was cozy, masculine, sparsel

The front door creaked open, the scent of sea salt and aged bourbon drifting into Emma’s senses. The beach house was exactly how she remembered—warm wooden floors, rustic furniture, and the lingering scent of sandalwood cologne that belonged to him.She dropped her duffel by the door and called out. “Damon?”No answer.Her heart fluttered—not with nerves, but anticipation. She hadn’t seen him in over two years. Not since she turned eighteen and moved off to college. But God, he was still the man who haunted her dreams. The one she used to innocently call Daddy—before the nickname took on a darker edge in her thoughts.She wandered into the kitchen, opened the fridge, grabbed a bottle of water. The house felt too quiet, and yet, something told her she wasn’t alone.Then she heard it—a heavy footstep behind her.She turned—and there he was.Damon.Taller, broader, with a beard now. His military physique hadn’t softened a bit. He stood in the doorway, towel around his neck, shirtless and