Twisted Temptation 의 모든 챕터: 챕터 111 - 챕터 120

The suburbs of Chicago didn’t look like the kind of place where dirty secrets lived. White picket fences, trimmed hedges, wide driveways with shiny cars. But behind those neat facades, indulgence thrived.Mrs. Langford knew it. So did her driver.She had hired him two months ago—Derek, late twenties, built like a man who didn’t spend his time in an office chair. Broad shoulders under pressed black shirts, hands rough from the kind of work he’d done before chauffeuring. He drove her Mercedes, kept his head down, and answered her clipped instructions with a simple, “Yes, ma’am.”But her eyes lingered.The first weeks were polite. She’d sit in the back seat, legs crossed in pencil skirts that rode a little too high when she slid in. The slit in her dresses parted just enough when she shifted. And Derek, trained to keep his gaze forward, found his eyes flicking to the rearview mirror a little too often.She noticed.On a late summer evening, with cicadas screaming outside and the air heav

The follow-up came sooner than either of them expected. Miss Carter—Emma, he reminded himself—was back in the waiting room less than a week later. Dr. Hayes spotted her on the schedule that morning and almost canceled. Almost. But he hadn’t. Now she was here again, sitting too comfortably, her skirt a little shorter, her blouse loose but low enough that her bra peeked when she leaned. When his nurse called her name, she rose like she had been waiting just for him. “Good to see you again,” Hayes said evenly as she entered the exam room. His tone was calm, but his pulse betrayed him. “You too, Doctor.” Her smile was subtle, loaded. “Still the headaches?” “Some,” she said. “Mostly at night. Sometimes when I’m… tense.” Her pause was deliberate. He caught it. He tried to ignore it. “Let’s make sure we didn’t miss anything,” he said, turning clinical, opening her chart. “You’ll need a more thorough exam today.” She slid onto the table, crossing her legs slowly. “Thorou

The clinic at night was nothing like the bustling daytime hours. After the staff left, it became hushed and hollow, shadows stretching long across the polished floors. The hum of fluorescent lights seemed louder, more intimate, as if the building itself was holding its breath. Dr. Hayes stayed late again. Not because he had to—his paperwork could wait—but because the silence felt like punishment. Or maybe penance. Or maybe a cage he kept locking himself in. He leaned back in his chair, running a hand over his face. He hadn’t been able to stop thinking about her. Emma Carter had invaded his nights like a fever: the way she smiled when she knew she had rattled him, the heat of her skin under his palms, the whispered yes, Doctor that played on loop in his head. He cursed softly, stood, and went to the window. Manhattan sprawled below, alive with lights and sirens. Out there, temptation was endless. But here, in this office, the only temptation that mattered had a name—and she had

Hayes shoved everything off his desk in one rough sweep—papers, pens, his laptop—all scattering to the floor. Emma laughed breathlessly at his sudden violence, then moaned as he lifted her onto the hard surface, spreading her out in front of him like a feast. Her blouse was half-open, bra slipping down, skin flushed under the glow of the office light. She propped herself on her elbows, eyes blazing with triumph and hunger all at once. “This what you’ve been holding back, Doctor?” she teased, voice husky. He growled low in his throat, grabbing her ankles and dragging her closer until her skirt bunched around her hips. Her thighs spread willingly, and the sight of her—bare, damp already—made him curse under his breath. “Christ, Emma…” His voice was wrecked, thick with need. “You’re going to ruin me.” She smirked, breathless. “Maybe I already have.” He didn’t waste another second. His hands gripped her thighs tight, his mouth crashing down on hers again, wet and demanding. She cla

For a moment, silence hung in the office—except for the ticking clock and their ragged breathing. Hayes was still inside her, sweat dripping down his spine, his heart thundering against her chest. Emma stroked a hand lazily down his back, nails grazing the red lines she’d left there. “Mmm,” she whispered, a satisfied grin curling her lips. “That was even better than the desk.” He groaned and pulled out, the wet sound obscene in the quiet room. She winced faintly, then smirked as she watched him tuck himself back into his pants. Her skirt was ruined, blouse hanging open, hair a wild mess—but she didn’t look ashamed. She looked victorious. Hayes dragged a hand over his face, sinking onto the arm of the couch. “What the hell are we doing, Emma? If anyone finds out—” “No one will,” she cut in smoothly, sitting up and buttoning her blouse one-handed. “Unless you plan on confessing.” He shot her a sharp look. “Don’t joke about that.” She shrugged, adjusting her bra with unboth