Todos os capítulos de Forbidden Affairs : Capítulo 71 - Capítulo 80

The sun had barely risen, a pale smear of gold slipping through the thick forest canopy as I stumbled over a root, breath catching in my throat. I hadn’t slept. Not really. My legs still trembled from what happened last night. My thighs still felt slick. Used.Claimed.The shame came in waves. So did the want.I’d touched my sister’s mate. Let him touch me. Grind into me. Make me come apart with his fingers while our entire pack celebrated just a few feet away.And I’d wanted more. Still did.I wasn’t supposed to be out here this morning, but my body moved before my mind caught up. Something tugged me toward the forest. A magnetic pull I couldn’t explain.No—that’s a lie. I could.Kael was here.I felt him.The moment I stepped into the clearing, I saw him.He was alone, shirtless, standing at the edge of the river with water dripping down his chest. Morning light clung to his skin like dew. His back was to me, muscles taut, head slightly bowed.But he knew I was there.“I could smell

The party was already loud when I stepped through the door.Ethan’s voice boomed from somewhere inside, laughing, shouting over the bass-heavy music pumping from the speakers. Beer bottles littered the kitchen island. Half the guests looked drunk. The other half looked horny.I hadn’t planned on staying long. Just a quick appearance for my younger brother’s birthday bash, show face, smile, and head back to the hotel.But then I saw her.Maya.She stood by the patio door, drink in hand, laughing at something someone said, the curve of her mouth dangerous. Her black dress was a second skin, hugging her waist, riding up her thighs. Her back was bare—smooth, glowing in the low light—and her heels made her legs look impossibly long.My breath caught, and I hated that it did.She was Ethan’s. My brother’s girlfriend. His serious girlfriend. The one he called “the real thing.” The one he introduced to Mom over brunch. The one who—according to him—might be the one.And yet, she turned her hea

I wasn’t supposed to be there. The studio was supposed to be locked, like always after hours. But I had forgotten my phone in the back office, and when I came back, the light under the door of the loft caught my eye. I told myself not to look. Not to get involved in anything beyond my paycheck. But the low hum of music—classical, haunting—pulled me in like a whisper behind the ear. The air was warmer inside, heavy with the scent of turpentine, oil, sweat, and something deeper—like desire distilled into fumes. And then I saw him. Julian Roth. My boss. My silent obsession. A man of few words and too many eyes. He never looked directly at anyone, but you always felt seen. He was in his element, barefoot in charcoal-stained jeans, shirtless, long fingers curled around a brush as he swept it across canvas with the same grace as a lover dragging fingertips across skin. The woman on the stool was nude. Gorgeous. Lithe. She wasn’t just naked—she was offering herself to him, arching, po

The rain fell heavy against the tall glass windows of the Sinclair estate, blurring the world outside into streaks of gray and green. Elena sat in the chaise lounge by the fire, robe loosely tied at her waist, a half-empty glass of red wine dangling from her fingers. She had spent the past few weeks drowning in silence—running from gossip columns, the whispers in polished corridors, the flash of cameras that didn’t care she was grieving more than escaping.Here, in the country, there was no one to watch. No one but her maid.Marisol.She moved like smoke, quiet and graceful, always a step ahead, never a word out of place. Twenty-two, maybe younger. Hired only a month ago through the estate’s service agency, she was supposed to be just another part of the background—laundry, breakfast trays, polished floors. But lately, Elena had begun to notice… more.It started with the way Marisol’s hips swayed as she dusted the bookshelves. Or the curve of her thighs under the modest black uniform

The hallway was quiet, the kind of silence that only existed in places where hearts were about to be broken. Sienna stood outside his room with her hand trembling around a small velvet box. Inside was a tie clip—silver, engraved with his initials—something Claire had ordered months ago and nearly forgotten. She had asked Sienna to deliver it. Simple favor. No big deal.Except it was a big deal.Because the groom was Ethan.And Sienna had been in love with Ethan since the first time he looked at her like she was made of something more than skin and bones. Since the first time his hand brushed hers a second too long. Since the moment she realized she didn’t want to be Claire’s maid of honor. She wanted to be the bride.She knocked once. The door creaked open. And there he was.Shirtless.Hair damp from a shower. Slacks riding low on his hips. A whiskey tumbler dangling from his hand.He smiled when he saw her, slow and tired. “Did she send you?”Sienna swallowed. “Tie clip. She forgot.”