Alle Kapitel von Sweet Temptations: My lover, My Ex's Father : Kapitel 11 – Kapitel 20

~Clarissa’s POV~ He was perfectly still, his eyes fixed on the small phone screen laid on the table between us. The sounds of our night filled the silence of the private booth....a low, rhythmic groan, a muffled cry, the soft thud of flesh against flesh. It was a raw, unfiltered reel, a short glimpse into a moment of pure, uninhibited connection. A moment I had captured as a shield and now used as a sword. I didn’t look at the screen, rather I watched his face, searching for a crack in the mask of his composure, but there was none. His expression was utterly blank. The video ended. The screen went black, reflecting the dim glow of the city lights outside. Slowly, his gaze lifted, moving from the screen to my face. His eyes, once sparking with playful intrigue, were now unreadable. Not angry, not shocked, but a cold, calculating grey. It was the look of a man who had been handed a puzzle and was calmly putting the pieces together. “Scarlet,” he murmured, the name a ghost on his lip

~Clarissa's POV~ My knees pressed against the cool marble floor, the chill a sharp contrast to the fire spreading through my veins. My gaze had fallen, unable to hold the intensity of his storm grey eyes, but I could still feel them on me. It was a tangible weight, a possessive stare that made my skin prickle with both dread and a twisted sense of pride. He wasn't just looking at me; he was drinking me in, like being a specimen under a microscope, a prize newly acquired and meticulously studied. A beat of silence stretched between us, thick with unspoken thoughts and raw tension. His voice broke the silence, low and dangerous.“Look at me, Clarissa.”The command wasn’t harsh, but there was something about it that made my chest tighten, a magnetic pull I couldn’t escape. I hesitated for a moment, before slowly lifting my gaze. His eyes locked with mine....dark, unreadable, yet there was a flicker in them that spoke volumes, as if he was waiting for me to crumble beneath the weight o

~Clarissa’s POV~ The scent of him lingered on my body, a heady mix of cologne and whiskey that clung to me like a second skin. My world, which just moments ago was a whirlwind of sensation and raw desire, came to a sudden halt as Victor’s grip on me loosened, I stumbled back a step, my legs a little too wobbly to hold my weight. It was a strange mix of emotions, a chaotic storm of pleasure, humiliation, and a twisted sense of accomplishment. My mind was still reeling from the events that had just unfolded. The office, the desk, the words he had made me say....it was all a blur of raw, unadulterated desire. I watched, still breathless and shaky, as he casually pulled on his boxers and dress pants, the simple movements of his body a cruel reminder of how easily he could switch off the heat that still raged through my veins. He didn’t even glance my way as he walked back to the sleek leather couch he had been sitting on just before our world imploded. He slumped back into the cushions

~Victor’s POV~ The last eight days had been a blur, a chaotic mess of half-formed thoughts and unresolved tension. It was Sunday, a day that was supposed to be a sanctuary from the relentless demands of my company, but my mind was a battlefield, and the enemy was a woman with fiery eyes and a stubborn streak that matched my own. Clarissa Jones. Her name alone was enough to send a jolt through me, a mixture of frustration and a fascination I hadn't felt in years. I was in my home office, the scent of expensive leather and old books hanging in the air. A half empty glass of whiskey sat on my desk, the ice long since melted. I’d spent the better part of the week on edge, my phone a constant presence in my hand, a silent hope that she would finally call. My finger had hovered over her contact more times than I could count, but my pride, my damned, stubborn pride, wouldn't let me make the first move. I scoffed, leaning back in my chair. What the hell was wrong with me? I was a man

~Victor's POV~ “Eric,” I repeated, my voice a low, dangerous growl. “What is it?” There was a noticeable beat of silence on the other end. Not static, not the distant city noise, but a flat, deafening void. I frowned, pulling the phone away from my ear just enough to glance at the screen. The call was still connected. Was it a mistake? A butt dial from the boy who’d forgotten how to talk to his own father? I brought the phone back up, the glass cool against my cheek.“Hello, Eric? Are you there?”“Dad…” His voice finally broke through, a little too loud, a little too strained. “Yes. I’m here.”I pressed the heel of my free hand against my forehead, battling the thrumming pain. The image of Clarissa’s limp body in those grotesque photos was still burning in my retina. “Well?” I pressed, leaning back against the leather couch, the scent of expensive hide and my own lingering cologne filling the air. “I’m sure there’s a reason you called. You don’t usually take a break from whateve