All Chapters of Forbidden Affairs : Chapter 51 - Chapter 60

The first thing I noticed about Liam’s father was his silence.Not the kind of silence that feels awkward or empty—no, Nathan Blackwood was the kind of man whose silence demanded attention. It filled the room, pressed on your chest, made your lungs tighten without you even realizing why.He barely looked at me when Liam introduced us.“Dad, this is Ava,” Liam said cheerfully as we stepped into the lake house foyer. “Ava, this is my old man. Don’t let the suit fool you—he’s semi-retired now.”Nathan offered his hand without a smile. “You’re prettier than your pictures.”His voice was deep. Steady. He didn’t compliment me like someone trying to win me over. It was observational. Dismissive, even.And still—something in me tightened.“Thank you, Mr. Blackwood.”His brow rose faintly. “Nathan is fine.”Liam laughed and kissed my temple. “We’ll drop our bags and come right back down.”As we walked upstairs, I glanced back. Nathan hadn’t moved. He was still standing in the foyer, eyes on me

I didn’t eat dinner that night.I sat across from Liam at the table, barely tasting my food. He talked about the town, the storm, the overpriced bourbon he finally found for his dad. I smiled when I had to, nodded at the right moments, and clutched my water glass like it could save me.Nathan didn’t speak much either.He watched.He was good at that. Watching without looking. Making my skin burn from ten feet away. Every time our eyes met, my stomach flipped.Because I knew.And he knew I knew.And worst of all, I wanted more.Liam fell asleep early, one arm slung over my waist, his breath warm against my shoulder. He whispered “love you” before drifting off, voice thick with comfort, not desire.I laid there in the dark, listening to the creak of floorboards above us.Nathan’s room was on the second floor.And I couldn’t stop thinking about his hands.How they moved inside me like he’d studied every inch of my body before ever touching it. How he didn’t ask for permission—he just too

The collar around my neck felt heavier as the night stretched on, like every second in their presence was adding weight I couldn’t see — only feel. But I didn’t want it off. Not yet. Not when I was this far gone. Not when my body still hummed from their commands, from their eyes burning into me like fire licking skin.Damon stood beside the glass wall, backlit by the city lights, silent and watchful. Celeste stroked my hair like I was a prized thing they’d purchased, her nails dragging gently across my scalp, making my skin prickle.“You’ve been good,” she whispered. “So good.”Then she leaned close to my ear. “But the real fun doesn’t happen out here.”My breath caught. Damon turned toward us with a look that could split me in two. “Bring her.”Celeste rose, curling her fingers under the loop of the collar and tugging me forward like a pet on a leash. My knees hit the carpet and I followed on all fours, my skin flushed and alive.She led me through a hallway lined with artwork and mo

I knew the marriage wasn’t perfect.But I didn’t think I’d be this lonely, just three months in.Jason barely looked at me anymore — not unless I was holding coffee or passing him his laptop. When he touched me in bed, it felt like an afterthought. Quick. Mechanical. Like checking a box.So when he suggested we spend the weekend at his family’s country estate — a break from work, a chance to reconnect — I said yes too quickly.I thought maybe a change of scenery would bring back the spark.I wasn’t expecting Richard Blackwell.His father.We pulled into the gravel driveway late Friday afternoon. The house — no, the mansion — was surrounded by pines and gardens too perfectly kept. The kind of place you only saw in magazines. Ivy crawling up the brick. A long porch with white columns. Statues of lions guarding the stairs.Jason barely looked up from his phone.“I’ll be on a few calls this weekend,” he muttered as he stepped out. “But Dad’s around. You’ll like him. He’s… chill.”I didn’t

I wasn’t supposed to be home.Dad thought I’d stay the whole summer at my friend’s beach place. But after a fight and a few too many drinks, I packed my bag and came back without warning.The house was dark when I arrived — except for a soft, amber glow spilling from the living room. Music drifted through the air. A slow, seductive beat. Something old-school. Vinyl, maybe.I walked in, quietly dropping my bag by the stairs.That’s when I saw her.Vanessa.My stepmom.She was barefoot, wearing a silky, thin-strapped sundress that clung to her curves like it had been painted on. The hem danced around her thighs as she swayed to the music, eyes closed, hips moving like she’d forgotten the world.There was a half-empty wine glass on the coffee table.She didn’t notice me at first.And I didn’t say a damn thing.I watched.Her long, dark hair fell over one shoulder as she spun slowly, the thin fabric of her dress lifting just enough to reveal bare skin, no bra, and the soft bounce of her b