Tempted By Him: A BL collection of romantic stories のすべてのチャプター: チャプター 41 - チャプター 50

Theo's povThe contract was twelve pages long and written in the kind of language that made my eyes glaze over. Non-disclosure. Non-fraternization beyond agreed public appearances. Strictly professional. No emotional entanglement. No physical intimacy except what the cameras required. Breach would cost me more money than I currently had in my bank account.I signed it anyway.Dominic Voss needed a temporary boyfriend to clean up a messy public narrative after his last very public, very dramatic breakup. I needed the kind of money that would wipe out my sister’s medical debt and still leave enough for me to breathe. On paper it was simple. In practice, sitting across from the man himself in his corner office, it felt anything but.Dominic was everything the business magazines said he was, tall, impeccably tailored, dark hair threaded with just enough silver to look expensive, and eyes the color of cold steel. He looked at me like he was already calculating risk versus reward.“You unde

Theo's povThe calendar invite landed in my inbox at 4:17 p.m.Private Strategy Meeting – Dominic VossLocation: Executive Suite, 42nd FloorTime: 7:00 p.m.No one else was copied. No agenda attached. Just the quiet certainty that I was expected.I spent the rest of the afternoon pretending to work while my pulse refused to settle. Every time I shifted in my chair I felt the lingering ache from the green room the day before. Dominic had fucked me like he was trying to erase every camera flash from my skin. Now he wanted me in his office after hours.At 6:58 I stepped out of the elevator onto the executive floor. The lights were dimmed. Most of the staff had already gone home. Dominic’s assistant was nowhere in sight. The double doors to his office stood slightly ajar.I pushed them open.Dominic stood behind his massive desk, jacket off, sleeves rolled up to his elbows, tie loosened. The city glittered behind him through floor-to-ceiling windows. He looked up as I entered, and the exp

Ren's povThree days of nonstop promotions nearly killed me.Interviews. Fan signs. Last-minute variety recordings. A surprise performance that ran until two in the morning. By the time the final schedule wrapped, my voice was shot, my body ached in places I didn’t know could ache, and the only thing keeping me upright was spite and the occasional energy drink Marcus shoved into my hand.He hadn’t touched me since the closet.Hadn’t dragged me into any dark corners. Hadn’t pinned me against any walls. He’d been pure professional ice, efficient, distant, barking orders and managing every second of my time like the backstage quickie had never happened. The only evidence it wasn’t a fever dream was the faint bruise on my hip shaped like his fingers and the way my hole still clenched every time he stood too close.So when he told the rest of the staff I needed a full night of uninterrupted rest and that he was handling the logistics personally, I didn’t argue. I just followed him into the

Ren's povThe plug made the van ride feel longer than it was.Every bump in the road pushed it deeper. Every stop made me clench so I wouldn’t make a sound. Marcus sat beside me like nothing was wrong, phone in one hand, the other resting on his knee close enough that his knuckles brushed my thigh when the van turned.Staff filled the other seats. Makeup bags. Cold coffee. Talk about lighting and call times. Nobody looked at us twice.I kept my eyes on the window and tried to sit still. It didn’t help. I was full of him. Sore. Half hard in loose pants because my body had learned the wrong lesson about pain.Marcus didn’t look at me. He didn’t have to. When the van hit a pothole and I sucked in a breath, his thumb tapped twice against my thigh. Stay quiet. I know.The studio was already loud when we arrived. Lights. Stylists. A photographer who wanted “fresh, boyish, untouched.” I almost laughed.They sat me in the vanity chair. Someone powdered my face. Someone else tugged my shirt to

Callum povOn the third night a page found me in the tack room.“East wing,” he said, bored, like it was nothing. “The prince’s glove. Steward says you were last in the hall. He wants it found before morning.”I wiped my hands, took a lantern I didn’t need, and went.The same door. Closed this time. I knocked.“In.”Edric was at the desk this time, not the bed. Jacket on. Ring on. A letter open under his hand like he’d been working. The second I stepped through, he was already moving. The door shut. The lock turned. He took the lantern out of my hand and set it down hard enough that the flame jumped.“You hid,” he said.“I worked.”“You hid.” He backed me toward the window alcove, not the bed. Glass at my spine. Night garden below, lamps along the path like small gold teeth. “I rode past the yard twice. You found the one corner I couldn’t see from the gate. Do you think I don’t notice when a boy stops staring?”My mouth went dry. “You said it wouldn’t happen again.”“I know what I sai