All Chapters of Craving Forbidden Pleasures : Chapter 341 - Chapter 350

The night was suffocatingly quiet, the city lights blurred by a thin veil of fog. Clara followed Marcus through narrow alleyways and backstreets, the heels of her boots clicking softly against wet concrete. Every shadow seemed alive, every corner held the possibility of an ambush.Marcus moved like a predator and protector at once — silent, fluid, attuned to the smallest disturbances. Clara’s hand rested in his, her fingers entwined with his. The warmth of his palm grounded her, even as the tension coiled tighter in her stomach.“Remember,” he murmured, low in her ear. “Eyes open. Focus. Fear is a tool, not a master.”She nodded, breath quickening. The thrill of the hunt surged through her veins. For weeks she had obeyed, surrendered, trusted, and desired. Tonight, she was taking action.They reached a nondescript building — the kind that could easily be overlooked. Marcus pressed a finger to her back, guiding her inside.“Stay close,” he whispered.The interior was dimly lit, filled

Clara’s pulse was a drumbeat in her ears as she followed Marcus through the shadowed streets. The building ahead was nondescript — a warehouse that could have been abandoned, but the faint hum of activity told a different story. This was the heart of Ravik’s network.“Remember,” Marcus murmured, his hand brushing hers, a tether grounding her, “every move counts. Eyes open, instincts sharp. Trust me, but act with your own mind.”She nodded, swallowing hard. The fear was sharp, but beneath it, a current of exhilaration surged. This wasn’t just following anymore — this was participation, choice, control, survival. And Marcus’s proximity, the heat of his hand in hers, made her pulse thrum in ways unrelated to fear.The front door was locked with a keypad. Marcus bypassed it with practiced ease, and they slipped inside. The warehouse smelled faintly of oil and dust, with the low hum of computers and quiet voices in the distance. Clara’s stomach twisted in anticipation.“This way,” Marcus w

The night was thick with fog, the streets slick and quiet as Clara followed Marcus. The warehouse ahead loomed like a jagged shadow against the dim city lights. This was it — the heart of Ravik’s operation, the place where everything converged.Clara’s pulse raced, a mixture of fear, adrenaline, and desire coiling in her chest. Her hands trembled slightly as Marcus’s fingers brushed hers, grounding her.“Tonight, we end it,” he murmured, voice low, rough. “Stay close, stay sharp, and trust your instincts.”“I trust you,” she whispered, feeling the tether between them tighten.Marcus’s lips brushed her temple, brief and deliberate. “Good. Because I’ll be testing just how much fire you’ve got.”Inside, the warehouse was a maze of shadow and steel. Ravik’s men moved with quiet efficiency, unaware that their fortress was already compromised. Clara and Marcus slipped through shadows, silent, precise, every movement a calculated step in a deadly dance.Clara’s senses were alive, every nerve

The city had changed. Not in shape or skyline, not in noise or chaos, but in tone. There was a quiet confidence in the streets, an unspoken rhythm that Clara noticed every time she stepped outside. She moved through it with a sense of calm and control that was entirely new. No longer just reacting to the world, she moved through it aware of her own power, aware of the fire she carried.She stood on the balcony of their loft, the early morning sun cutting through the glass, warming her skin. Marcus was beside her, one arm draped lightly across her shoulders, the other hand clasping hers. The city stretched before them in shades of gold and steel, but all she could see was him — the tether, the constant, the storm that kept her anchored even as she had grown into her own power.“You’re thinking again,” he murmured, low and rough, brushing a strand of hair from her face.“I am,” she admitted, leaning into his touch. “I was… just remembering everything. How fragile it felt at first, and h

Evelyn turned toward the noise.Nothing. Only her reflection in the glass doors—wide-eyed, pale, foolish.And then a voice, low and smooth as shadow:“You really should sleep with the lights off, Miss Vale.”She spun.Lucas Sterling leaned against the threshold, black-gloved hands resting at his sides. He was dressed in dark clothes, no tie, no invitation this time—only that same impossible calm.Evelyn’s pulse hammered against her throat. “How did you—” she started asking. He smiled, unhurried. “Getting in is always easier than getting out. The real trick is not to wake the ghosts.”“Or the alarms,” she said, forcing steel into her tone. “You’re trespassing.”“I am.” His gaze flicked over her—the loose knot of her robe, the bare curve of her throat—then back to her eyes. “You’re not afraid", he observed. “I should be", she relied, narrowing her eyes on him. “But you’re not", he said, and it was obvious that he was both amazed and amused at the same time by that little fact. The r