All Chapters of Tempted By The Sweetest Sin: Chapter 61 - Chapter 70

SABRINA’S POVMy heart slammed against my ribs so hard I thought it might crack one. Frank was staring at the floor, finger pointed like he’d spotted a bomb.Black boxers. Eric’s boxers. Just lying there like they were waiting to ruin my entire life.I lunged forward before my brain even caught up, snatching them up in one frantic grab. I crumpled them into a ball and shoved them behind my back, my pulse hammering so loud I was sure he could hear it.“Uh… those are mine,” I blurted, voice way too high.Frank’s eyebrows shot up. He turned fully toward me, confusion all over his sweet, familiar face. “Sabrina… why would your underwear be on the floor?”Heat exploded across my cheeks. I could actually feel the blood rushing to my face, my neck, everywhere. “It’s embarrassing, okay? Just—help me clean, please?”He blinked twice, then a slow, teasing grin spread across his lips. He wiggled his brows like a total idiot. “Don’t tell me you were…”My eyes went wide. I knew exactly what he was

SABRINA’S POVThe men froze. So did I. My eyes darted toward the sound, and there he was—Eric. Standing at the mouth of the alley, silhouetted against the faint glow from the streetlights. His broad shoulders tense, fists clenched at his sides. He looked like a shadow come to life, tall and imposing in his leather jacket, his dark hair messy like he'd run his hands through it a thousand times.The guy holding me tightened his grip, twisting my arm until I winced. “Stay out of our business, man,” he snarled, his voice low and threatening. “This one is ours.”Ours. Like I was some object they’d claimed. Bile rose in my throat. I pressed myself harder against the wall, wishing I could melt into the bricks, disappear into the shadows.My legs shook, knees threatening to buckle. How had Eric found me? Why was he here? But in that moment, I didn’t care. He was my lifeline, the only thing standing between me and whatever hell these creeps had planned.Eric’s eyes locked on mine for a split

SABRINA’S POV The restaurant suddenly felt ten degrees hotter. My pulse was hammering in my ears, in my throat, between my legs. Eric’s eyes were locked on mine, dark and blazing, daring me to say no.“I… I can’t do that,” I whispered, voice shaking. My cheeks were on fire. “We’re in public, Eric. People are everywhere.”He leaned forward over the table, elbows planted, that dangerous smirk deepening. His voice dropped even lower, rough and velvet all at once. “It’s either you do it, princess… or I come over there and do it for you.”My breath hitched. He shifted like he was actually about to stand up, chair scraping softly against the floor.“No—no, Eric, that’s crazy!” I hissed, eyes wide, glancing around in panic.He paused halfway out of his seat, one brow raised, waiting. Challenging.“Wait—wait,” I squeaked, hands flying up. “I’ll do it.”The smirk that spread across his face was pure victory, slow and sinful. He settled back down, folding his arms, watching me like I was the

SABRINA’S POV The second the words left my mouth…’make me sore, Eric’...something wild flashed in his eyes. Before I could even catch my breath, his hands slid under my thighs and he lifted me like I weighed nothing at all. A surprised little laugh bubbled out of me, half nervous, half giddy.He swallowed the sound with another kiss, deep and hungry, walking us through the penthouse without ever breaking it. I wrapped my legs around his waist on instinct, arms tight around his neck, feeling every hard muscle flex against me as he carried me. It felt effortless for him, like holding me was the easiest thing in the world. No strain, no awkwardness—just pure strength and want.He kicked open a door at the end of the hall, and we stepped into his bedroom. Dim lights came on automatically, soft and warm, showing a huge bed with dark sheets and those massive windows still framing the city lights. He lowered me gently onto the mattress, following me down so he hovered over me, forearms bra

ERIC’S POV Sabrina was finally asleep, curled up in my arms like she was made to fit there. Her back pressed tight against my chest, her soft curves tucked into me, warm and perfect. One of my arms was draped over her waist, hand splayed across her stomach, holding her close. Her breathing was slow and deep, little puffs of air against the pillow. She looked peaceful—lips slightly parted, hair messy across the sheets, a faint flush still on her cheeks from everything we’d done. I couldn’t stop looking at her. I’d lost count of how many times I’d made her come tonight. Over and over, until her voice was hoarse, until she was shaking and begging in that sweet, broken way that drove me insane. She’d asked for it—hell, she’d demanded it. “Make me sore, Eric,” she’d whispered, eyes dark and daring. So I did. I gave her exactly what she wanted, slow and deep, then hard and relentless, until she couldn’t form words anymore. Until all she could do was cling to me and fall apart. And fu