บททั้งหมดของ Taboo: Ties and Sins : บทที่ 71 - บทที่ 80

Lauren's heels tapped softly on the polished marble of the gallery, echoing among low conversations and the clink of crystal glasses. She ran her fingers over a glass of red wine, observing the piece in front of her—an explosion of aggressive colors and brushstrokes that seemed to bleed. It unsettled her. Or perhaps it was just the elegant discomfort of being there, among strangers who seemed to fit so perfectly into that universe of social masks and restrained smiles.She had accepted the last-minute invitation on impulse, or perhaps out of boredom. After weeks submerged in predictable routines and uncomfortable silences in her own apartment, a nighttime event seemed promising. But now, with a third glass of wine between her fingers and the tight black dress clinging to her back from the subtle warmth of the room, Lauren was beginning to question if she belonged there."Trying to understand, or just feeling?"The voice caught her by surprise. Deep. Warm. A discreet vibration that did

The door closed behind them with a subtle click, muffling the outside world.Lauren felt the air change. Denser. Warmer. Laden with a woody perfume with sweet hints—sandalwood and amber, perhaps. The candles scattered around the room cast long shadows on the red walls, which seemed to pulse with an invisible breath. Large cushions covered the floor, and in the center, on a low table of dark wood, lay rolls of Japanese cotton rope, perfectly coiled. Red, black, and a golden one.Yusuf placed his hands behind his back and observed her in silence for a few moments. No music. No words. Only the sound of Lauren's own breathing, a little faster than before, and growing ever more conscious.He finally spoke, in a low voice."Take off your shoes. Slowly."She hesitated, then bent down, first the right, then the left, her ankles steady despite her trembling hands. The floor was warm beneath her feet."Now... the dress."She lifted her eyes to him, seeking some confirmation, some gesture of enc

The scent of myrrh and amber hung in the air like a promise. The incense smoke unfurled in lazy spirals, filling the space with a warm haze. The room's penumbra was soft on the eyes, as if light were not permitted to injure there. Persian rugs cushioned every step, and the low bed, covered in black velvet and red cushions, seemed more an altar than a piece of furniture.Lauren entered with a warm body, a tamed mind, and an exposed heart. There was a disquieting peace in her movements—as if she were walking into a sanctuary where the sacred and the profane were not opposites, but siblings. Yusuf followed close behind, in silence. The kind of silence that says everything. That observes, assesses, prepares."Today," he said, closing the door behind him, "you will be touched as you've always wanted, but never dared to ask for."Lauren stopped in the center of the room. Her breathing already altered. Her hands, open at her sides. There was vulnerability there, yes, but without fear. For th

The sound of metal skates echoed in the tunnel as the last players left the ice. The roar of the crowd still vibrated in the arena walls, muffled, distant. The victory had been hard-fought—and the tension of the game still simmered under the athletes' skin.Anny knew exactly where to find him.She navigated the hallways as she had for five years, ever since Hanz joined the professional team. Their friendship was born in college, when he was just a fearless freshman and she was the girl with an easy laugh who worked in sports marketing. Since then, she had never missed a single game of his.And he always waited for her in the locker room afterward. A hug, a kiss on the forehead, a tired smile. It was a silent tradition between them. But that night—there was something different in the air.She felt it the moment she stepped into the empty locker room.The place smelled of sweat, ice, and testosterone. A light steam still floated in the air from the showers. She passed the rows of locker

The music pounded through the walls of the house, drowning out laughter, conversation, and the clink of glasses. The party was a celebration of the team's victory, awash in alcohol, lights, and bodies pressed too close on the makeshift dance floor.But Hanz saw none of it.He only saw her.Anny.Leaning against the bar, wearing a damn red dress that was too short, too tight, too provocative—an invitation that wasn't meant for anyone else, but was nonetheless being shared with other eyes. Other men. And that made Hanz's blood boil.The dress molded her curves like a second skin. Every movement of her hips made the fabric ride up a little more. The neckline accentuated her breasts as if begging to escape. And the worst part?She knew.She knew he was watching. That the tension between them still burned alive, and that she was playing with fire.But it was when another player—Lars, the backup goalie—approached and started dancing with her, placing his hands too much on her waist, that Ha