บททั้งหมดของ The Wrong Kind Of Desire : บทที่ 11 - บทที่ 16

Chapter 11 Allison POVThe morning sun was like a joke, shining so brightly through the sheer curtains of my bedroom. I sat across-legged on the bed, staring at the floor, my fingers following the outline of my collarbone, where Julian's mouth had burned last night. I was very affected and shaken. All my logic-based walls, I had erected in months, had crumbled the moment his lips touched mine.Julie was towel drying her hair as she walked out of the bathroom. "You have been staring at that wall for 10 minutes”. She looked at me as if she was playing with me, yet curious as well. Are you sure you don't have that headache anymore? You look... flushed."I put a quick smile on my face and replied 'I'm fine' quickly with my hand at my side. All the things we're going to have to get into in our two weeks here." You said you had a list of a lot of things that we wanted to do?"Julie's eyes were immediately illuminated. Of course, your mom's new home is super nice. We're definitely looking

Chapter 13 Allison POV With Julie gone, the mansion didn’t feel like a luxury estate anymore. It felt like a hollow, gilded cage, and I was the bird trapped inside. Her side of our shared bedroom was painfully empty. The mattress was stripped bare, the closet doors left wide open, and the silence in the room was deafening. I paced the length of the hardwood floor, my bare feet making silent contact with the cold wood as I stared at the blank space where her suitcases had rested just twenty-four hours ago. Every time I closed my eyes, I was dragged straight back to the pool — to the devastating, shattered look on her face when she caught us. She had left at the crack of dawn without saying goodbye, leaving me completely alone to face the consequences of a forbidden desire I had no idea how to control. The guilt was a physical weight, pressing down on my chest until every breath felt like a struggle. I had betrayed my best friend. I had lied to

Chapter 15 Allison POV The air was thick, charged, and hot from the storm of the night before inside the grand conservatory. It was earthy, aromatic, pungent, and sweet with a strong fragrance of crushed jasmine emanating from the adjoining greenhouse. The sky was fractured with lightning, each streak flashing through the sizeable and heavy glass panels with a flickering spark of silver light. The thunder came next in no time at all, a low, guttural boom that shook the windowpanes and vibrated right through the floorboards under my bare feet. My body shook. I stood in the middle of the dark glass room, my arms wrapped around my elbows. I had come here to avoid my mother’s omnipresent and suffocating attention, but the energy of the storm outside matched the sheer turmoil I felt inside myself. I was unraveling. All my years of logic-based barriers I had erected were falling down, and I couldn’t get myself to rebuild them. Behind me, the heavy mahogany doors opened quietly with a