All Chapters of Sinful Seduction: Chapter 291 - Chapter 300

Rain fell softly against the car windshield, blurring the city lights into a golden smear. The air was thick with the scent of wet asphalt and heat from too many bodies inside the club. I’d told myself I wouldn’t see him tonight. I’d told myself this had to end.But when he showed up unannounced, leaning against the bar with a drink in his hand, it was like gravity shifted.He didn’t say a word when he saw me. He didn’t need to. His eyes traveled slowly down my black dress, lingering too long on my bare thighs, and my knees went weak. He waited, patient, like a hunter who knew his prey would eventually walk right into his hands.Maya was somewhere on the dance floor, spinning under the flashing lights with friends, laughing like the world could never betray her. I watched her from across the room, my chest tight with guilt that never seemed to outweigh the heat curling between my legs.He moved first. A soft brush of fingers at my waist as he passed behind me. Not a touch anyone else

He was supposed to marry someone else in the morning, but tonight his mouth was on mine.That was the first thought that cut through the fog of wine and bad decisions. His hands pressed into my hips like he still had the right to touch me. My back hit the wall of the hotel suite, the taste of him flooding every inch of my mouth.I should have stopped him. I should have pushed him away. Instead, I opened my lips wider.The room was dim, lit only by the golden glow of the bedside lamp and the faint city lights sneaking through the window. His suit jacket lay somewhere on the floor, a casualty of the moment everything between us snapped. His tie hung loose around his neck, his shirt halfway undone. I had never hated him more. I had never wanted him more.Hours earlier, I’d walked into the pre-wedding party like a well-behaved guest. My dress was black. Simple. Safe. But the second I saw him standing across the room in that crisp tuxedo, the air changed. He didn’t have to say a word. One

The sound of wedding bells should have felt beautiful. It should have felt like a celebration. But sitting there among rows of white flowers and smiling faces, it felt like a blade sliding slowly between my ribs.I sat in the second row, wearing a pastel dress that matched the carefully curated color scheme. My hair was neat. My smile was polite. My skin still smelled faintly like him.He stood at the altar in a black suit that made every woman in the room stare. His jaw was clean-shaven, his hair carefully styled, but I knew exactly what his hands had felt like this morning. I’d felt them on my skin while the sun was still rising.I shifted in my seat, crossing my legs, trying to ignore the soft throb between my thighs that had nothing to do with the ceremony. Every time his gaze flicked to me, even for a second, heat curled low in my stomach.The bride walked in, radiant and pure in a white gown, her smile bright enough to make the room lean toward her. Everyone rose to their feet.

The sheets still smelled like him. Roses. Sweat. Champagne. Secrets.I sat on the edge of the bed, wrapped in a white sheet that wasn’t mine, in a room meant for his bride. The night was too quiet, the kind of quiet that made every heartbeat sound loud enough to shatter the walls. He had left hours ago. Back to her. To the woman wearing the ring that pressed into my skin while he was inside me.I should have walked away after that. I should have closed the door, erased the scent, and burned the memory before it ruined me completely. But the truth was simple and ugly. I didn’t want to.I wanted him to come back.And when the keycard slid against the door and it opened slowly, he did.He stepped inside still wearing his suit from the reception, jacket gone, sleeves rolled up. His tie was loose around his throat. He should have looked like a groom in love. Instead, he looked like a man on fire.I didn’t move. Neither did he. For a long, sharp second, it was just silence between us. The k

Dinner was a show.He held my hand the entire evening like it was second nature. His thumb traced slow, lazy circles against my palm, sending tiny shocks up my arm every time he moved. The couple at our table believed the lie completely. The charming husband. The devoted wife. Perfect. Untouchable.We laughed when they laughed. We leaned closer when they leaned closer. When the waiter poured champagne into tall glasses, his hand slid up my thigh beneath the crisp white tablecloth.I stiffened, biting down on the inside of my cheek.“Relax,” he murmured against my ear, low and smooth, like he was talking about the food instead of the way his fingers brushed the inside of my leg.I whispered through clenched teeth, “Someone could see us.”“They won’t.”His hand crept higher. Slow. Unhurried. Each brush of his fingertips left heat trailing behind. My pulse thudded in my throat, but I forced myself to keep smiling, nodding along as the other couple talked about their vacation homes. I cou