บททั้งหมดของ Sinful Affairs (MM Erotica collection): บทที่ 1 - บทที่ 10

ALPHA GREGORY’s POV. I laid him on the bed in my room, his hands clumsy as I searched for the worst of his wounds. Since there was no doctor at the moment, I decided to tend to his wound myself. I stared at him closely to observe where he was hurt. There was a cut along his temple, bleeding not too much. Bruises kissed his ribs as I took off his clothes. I swallowed hard as I tried not to stare but it was too difficult. I composed myself then, I went into the bathroom, brought out a clean white cloth, and, filled a small bowl with water. He’s an Omega and he’s wolfless. Which means, he’s tender. I can’t bring harm while trying to help him. That’s the best thing. I sat beside him and moved my right hand carefully, practicing cleaning his wounds as if I had done this before. When the last bandage was secure, he lay back, and for a moment, the lines of pain smoothed from his face. Sleep took him like a tide. In the hush, I found myself watching the slow rise and fall of his

THEO’s POV.He stepped closer. Just one step, but it was enough for his scent to fill the space between us completely. My knees weakened, and heat rippled through me.His gaze softened then, though his voice was low and deep when he finally spoke.“You’re awake.”I swallowed hard, the sound barely audible. “I… I didn’t mean to intrude.”His lips curved slightly, not quite a smile, more like a thought he refused to say out loud.“You’re safe here,” he said, his tone rough around the edges. “Rest. No one will touch you.”No one but you, I wanted to say that but the words never left my mouth.He turned slightly, the movement slow, his presence lingering even as he walked away. Every part of me felt alive. My skin burned, my heart beat faster, my wolf still whispering from somewhere deep inside: HIM. I WANT HIM.I pressed my hand against my chest, half afraid the sound of my heartbeat would give me away. But my body moved. I reached out to him and grabbed his left hand, pulling him to fa

Kumar’s PovThe numbers looked at me, bleeding across the desk in that nasty red colored ink that makes your stomach turn. Seriously, I’ve never hated ink so much. Gujral Industries, my dad’s company, my inheritance, the only freaking reason to get out of bed in the morning was going down right in front of me, and I’m basically gluing together the cracks with duck-tapesInvestors? They were all gone. They’d just hung up, one by one, all those clipped “thanks” and fake “we will get back to you” messages. I just sat there, staring at the black rectangular table in the dead meeting room, listening to nothing but silence.Yeah, they were all out. Every last one of the shareholders.And of course, the press swam in the news of my downfall. Like, vultures they were. “Gujral Industries Faces Collapse.” “Kumar Gujral Fails to Deliver.” “From Powerhouse to Liability.” Great. Just what I needed. I couldn’t even scroll through the finance section on social media without seeing my own train wrec

Kumar’s POV Waking up that first morning at Flair Manor? It felt less like waking up in the morning and more like sick training for some invisible army. The curtains flung open at six sharp, not by hand, but by some overzealous robot system that thought it was doing me a favor. “Good morning, Mr. Gujral,” it said, sounding too polite, it gave me the creeps. There was sunlight everywhere, and bright enough to make my eyeballs burn, and I swear even the weather was on the schedule. Victor Flair didn’t just live here. The dude directed it. By eight, I’m dragging my feet to the glass dining table, coffee already poured, breakfast looking all perfect like it was posing for a magazine. Victor’s across from me, back straight, face unreadable. Might as well’ve been a statue. “Two minutes late,” he says, staring at the clock like it’d personally offended him. I glance at my watch. “The elevator stopped on another floor.” He barely blinks. “Excuses are a waste of time.” Still glued to

Kumar’s POV Man, the house feels like it shrank two sizes tonight. Seriously, it’s all glass and dead silence, pressing in on me like the walls are about to stage an intervention. Every damn clock is ticking like it’s announcing my failures, and the shadows? Yeah, of course, they all look like him. I swear I can barely breathe with everything so… perfect. Victor just had to correct me again. Folding my sleeves wrong, speaking wrong, apparently even breathing wrong. Five days of this, and I’m starting to think he doesn’t actually eat food, he just, I dunno, calibrates it? Guy treats dinner like a science experiment. Here I am, standing in this stupidly big living room with its pretentious golden lighting, and honestly, I’m about to lose it. “Do you hear yourself?” I snap, slamming my glass down so hard the table probably still remembers. “You have time for breakfast. You scheduled a talk. You even monitor how I freaking breathe. What is this, Victor, a test or a prison?” He’s