Lahat ng Kabanata ng Craving Forbidden Pleasures : Kabanata 251 - Kabanata 260

The morning after the breaking point, Mara expected emptiness.She thought she would wake alone, the air stale with sweat and sex, the imprint of his body lingering only in scent and bruises. She thought he’d vanish back into the shadows like he always did, resuming his vigil at the window, leaving her to sort through the wreckage of her own choices. She thought she’d finally have space — space to breathe, to think, to decide what the hell she was doing with her life.But when she opened her eyes, he was still there.Stretched out beside her on the couch, broad shoulders slack with sleep, his chest rising and falling in steady rhythm. His face, softened in slumber, looked almost boyish. Not the predator who had growled against her throat hours ago, not the man who had slammed her against the door with possessive fury. Just a man, mouth slightly parted, lashes shadowing his cheekbones, one scar cutting faintly across his jawline.Her first instinct was to recoil, to slide quietly away,

Mara woke slowly, her head pounding faintly, her body raw from the storm of the night before. The sheets tangled around her limbs like restraints, still damp with sweat. For a blissful second, before thought caught up, she thought she was alone. The room was quiet, the morning light a soft wash of gray.But then she shifted.And the ache between her thighs reminded her she was not free.Her breath caught as she reached instinctively for her throat. The skin there throbbed with heat, tender from the bite he’d left. His mark. His claim.She sat up, clutching the sheet to her chest, her eyes darting to the door. Empty. No hulking shadow waiting in the corner. No presence looming. He was gone.Or so she thought.It wasn’t until she swung her legs out of bed that she saw it: a length of black ribbon tied snugly around her wrist. Her stomach flipped. She hadn’t gone to bed with it on. The knot was perfect, deliberate, sitting at the inside of her pulse like a signature.Her hands trembled a

Mara couldn’t shake the wave.She told herself she had imagined it — that the shadow across the glass wasn’t real, or that the gesture was some trick of light. But the truth clung to her bones: someone else was watching. Not him. Someone different.The thought should have terrified her. And it did. But it also sparked something else — something she didn’t want to name. A dangerous, impossible hope.The next day, she moved through her office like a ghost. Her wrists still bore faint marks from the ropes, and every shift of her thighs reminded her of how brutally he had used her. She avoided mirrors, avoided windows. Every surface seemed a potential stage for his eyes.But the wave haunted her.Who was he?Why was he there?At lunch, she slipped outside, heart hammering as she scanned the street. Crowds bustled, taxis blared, strangers rushed by. For a while, it seemed absurd — to think that in this sea of people, one shadow might be meant for her.Then she saw it.On a bench across the

The handle turned. The door swung wide. And there he was — her watcher, stepping inside with a predator’s grace. His eyes locked on her immediately, on the window, on the air drifting in.His face went blank. Then dark.“Mara.” His voice was low, almost calm. Too calm. “What are you doing?”Her heart crashed against her ribs. “I—just needed air—”He shut the door quietly behind him, like a man sealing a tomb. He moved toward her in slow, deliberate steps.“You think I don’t know?” His eyes flicked to the open window, to the darkness beyond. “You think I can’t feel it when someone else is touching you with their eyes?”“I wasn’t—”“You were.” His voice cracked like a whip. “You were going to let him in.”The last inch of space between them vanished. His hand shot out, grabbing her wrist, twisting it so the ribbon pulled tight. “Did you think I wouldn’t come back tonight? Did you think I wouldn’t see?”Pain shot up her arm. “You’re hurting me—”“You don’t know what hurting is.” His grip

The city never slept, but Mara felt like it was holding its breath for her.She sprinted until her lungs burned, until her bare feet felt shredded against the pavement. The night air knifed into her chest, searing with every gulp. She didn’t know how long she ran, only that her body moved on sheer terror, muscle memory fueled by survival.She ducked into an alley, pressing against a graffiti-stained wall, gasping for air. Her heart slammed so hard she thought it might burst out of her ribcage.Don’t stop. Don’t look back.But she did.Her apartment building loomed in the distance, several stories up. One of the windows glowed faintly — hers. Wide open. Curtains fluttering like taunting fingers. She thought she saw movement, a figure leaning out, but it was impossible to tell which one.Her stomach dropped. She shoved herself deeper into the alley, trembling.She was free. She should’ve felt relief. Instead, panic ate her alive.She staggered out onto the main street, neon lights buzzi