All Chapters of A Pucking Lesson in Forbidden : Chapter 1 - Chapter 10

Dahlias POVI was still shaking when I finally made it home. The small apartment I shared with my mother was cluttered, but it was warm and had a warm touch. After the marble of Bellmont Academy and the terrifying encounter with Vincent Carrington I desperately needed warmth. I needed to feel safe. I needed to forget the way Vincent Carrington's body had pressed against mine, the way his cold blue eyes had looked at me like I was nothing.I pushed open the door and leaned against it for a moment trying to steady my breathing. My hands were still trembling. My heart was still racing. I could still feel Vincent Carrington's grip on my wrists hear his low voice threatening to ruin me."Sweetheart you are home,” my mother said, her voice bright and cheerful. I forced a smile onto my face pushing down the adrenaline still coursing through my veins. I could not let her see how scared I was. She had enough to worry about."Hi, Mama " I called out my voice shakier than I wanted it to be. I wa

Dahlia's POVTime seemed to stop, for a second.Vincent's lips were still warm against mine when the door swung open, but he moved with lightning speed, releasing me and stepping back like he'd never touched me at all. He turned to the mirror, adjusting his shirt with casual indifference, as if he hadn't just been kissing me against a bathroom wall.I couldn't move. I couldn't breathe. My lips still tingled where his had been.My mother stood in the doorway, her eyes darting between us. "Dahlia? What's going on in here?""I was just washing my hands," I heard myself say, and my voice sounded strange, distant, like it belonged to someone else. I turned to the sink, my hands shaking as I reached for the faucet. "Vincent was just... leaving."Vincent met my eyes in the mirror. There was no remorse there. No shame. Just cold amusement, like he'd just played a joke on me and was waiting to see how I'd react."Just making sure my new stepsister feels welcome," he said smoothly, his voice dri

Dahlia's POV"Bad night's sleep?"I jerked upright, my heart leaping into my throat.Vincent was standing at the edge of the garden, his hands in his pockets, his expression carefully neutral. He was wearing a white button-down that was slightly wrinkled, like he hadn't bothered to change after the night before."What do you want?" I asked, my voice sharp.He shrugged. "Just checking on my dear stepsister. You seemed upset at breakfast."He stepped closer, and I instinctively pressed back against the stone bench. His eyes raked over me, taking in my red-rimmed eyes, my pale face, my trembling hands. And he smiled."Rough night?" he asked, his voice dripping with false sympathy. "Couldn't sleep? Kept seeing things you wished you hadn't?"My face burned. "Stay away from me, Vincent.""Why?" He took another step closer. "We're family now. Shouldn't we be close?""Don't pretend you care," I spat. "I saw you last night. With Miranda. You wanted me to see, didn't you?"His smile widened. "Ma

Dahlia's POVThe afternoon sports period at Bellmont Academy was a spectacle.Students scattered across the sprawling campus like ants, filling every athletic facility with energy and noise. The cheerleaders dominated the practice field, their voices carrying across the lawn as they rehearsed complicated routines. Their uniforms were perfect. Their ponytails swung in perfect synchronization. They moved like they'd been born doing this.On the adjacent field, the football team ran drills, their grunts and shouts mixing with the cheerleaders' chants. The basketball court echoed with the squeak of sneakers and the thud of balls against hardwood.But the hockey rink was where the real crowd gathered.Bellmont's hockey team was legendary. The school poured money into the program. Scouts came from everywhere to watch their players. And Vincent Carrington was their crown jewel.I tried not to look. I really did.But my eyes kept drifting toward the rink.Vincent glided across the ice like he

Vincent's POVThe hockey house was the only place in Bellmont Academy where I didn't have to pretend to be anything other than myself.It wasn't a locker room. It was a second home. A private lounge reserved exclusively for Bellmont's hockey team, tucked away in a wing of the school that most students didn't even know existed. Oversized leather couches dominated the space, arranged around a massive television that never stopped playing sports highlights. Gaming consoles sat beneath the screen, controllers scattered across the coffee table alongside half-empty energy drinks. Refrigerators hummed quietly in the corner, stocked with everything a group of teenage athletes could possibly want. Trophies lined glass shelves along the walls, gleaming under soft lighting, each one representing a championship won decades ago. Framed photographs of every Bellmont hockey team stretched back further than anyone could remember.Between classes and after practice, this was where we gathered. Here, w