All Chapters of Taboo: Ties and Sins : Chapter 51 - Chapter 60

The heat had become bearable that night, but inside Clare's apartment there was something much more scorching than the Madrid summer. It was their bodies. Their breath. The charged silence they shared with Pedro, there on the sofa, where their eyes sought each other more than words.He had touched her. Kissed her. Tasted her as if her desire were sustenance. But he had stopped at the edge of the abyss.Now, there, she could think of nothing else. The thin sheet covering her naked skin felt like an insult to what her body craved. And he—sitting beside her, shirt half-open, his eyes fixed on the book he was reading as if he were calm—was the epicenter of everything that left her trembling.Clare rose slowly. The blanket slid from her shoulders. Her skin still warm from the previous excitement. Her hair, loose and messy, fell down her back.She walked over to him. Stopped in front of the armchair. He raised his eyes. And he knew."Don't run from me today," she said.Pedro closed the book

Clare woke to the heat of Pedro's body pressed against hers. He was sleeping deeply, one arm draped over her waist, his face turned toward her neck, as if seeking shelter in her scent. She watched him for long minutes in silence.He looked so... at peace. Strong and vulnerable at the same time. The dark lashes, the unkempt beard, his chest rising and falling gently. Clare could feel the weight of what they were building—and fear was beginning to seep through the cracks in her chest like a cold mist.She shifted slowly, trying to slip out of bed without waking him. But Pedro, even in his sleep, tightened his grip on her hip, murmuring something that sounded like a protest.“Easy, cariño...” his voice came out hoarse, slurred. “Where are you going?”“Coffee,” she said, smiling faintly. “Before the heat kills us.”He opened one eye, lazily.“As long as you’re naked.”She rolled her eyes but didn’t refuse.Minutes later, they were both on the balcony, naked in the daylight. Coffee steamed

The office on the 50th floor was wrapped in a comfortable silence, broken only by the gentle rhythm of rain hitting the panoramic windows. The city below glittered like a sea of diffuse lights, blurred by the humidity of the night. Isabela adjusted the black silk dress that clung to her curves, feeling the material slide against her skin like a second sheath. Her high heels echoed on the marble floor as she approached Ricardo’s desk, holding the report he had urgently requested.He was sitting there, his suit jacket hanging on the chair, the sleeves of his white shirt rolled up to his forearms, revealing prominent veins that betrayed the accumulated tension of the day. His dark eyes, always so calculating, lifted to meet hers, and she felt that familiar chill down her spine—the one that came before the heat.“You work too much, Isabela,” his voice was hoarse, laden with a fatigue that wasn’t just physical. “It’s long past time to go home.”She smiled, placing the report on the desk ca

The rain was beating harder now, curtains of water streaming down the floor-to-ceiling office windows, turning the outside world into a blur of distant lights. The muffled sound of drops against the glass created a private symphony, isolating them from the rest of the building.Ricardo didn't warn her before he acted.One fluid motion, and Isabela was spun around to face the desk, her body bent over the cold surface of the lacquered wood. The papers she had carefully organized flew like leaves in the wind, scattering reports and contracts across the floor. Her hands tried to grip the edge, but he was already upon her, his warm, hard body pressing her against the furniture."I always knew you wanted more than just serving coffee," he growled in her ear, his voice laden with a tone that made her stomach churn with desire.Before she could answer, his hands slid down her back, finding the zipper of the red dress—the same one he had ordered her to wear. The fabric slipped from her shoulde

The sound of Zoey’s heels echoed softly on the black marble of the main entrance, muffled by the high walls and the dim light filtering through the tinted windows. The façade of the Nervo magazine headquarters was a perfect mix of the old and the provocative: cast iron columns, dark wooden doors, and the absence of any logo, as if the building itself was an invitation to curiosity.She adjusted the strap of her bag on her shoulder, checked the notification on her phone for the third time:"Private exhibition. Arrive at 7 p.m. Victor will personally receive you."There was something about that name. Victor.Brusque. Strong. Dominant.When the door opened, Zoey was greeted not by a receptionist, but by the man himself.He stood leaning against the doorframe as if he were part of the architecture. Tall. Impeccable black suit. Shirt unbuttoned at the collar. No badge, no attempt to soften the image. Just his eyes: dark, observant, as if they already knew who she was, even before the hands