Alle Kapitel von UNHOLY & FORBIDDEN : Kapitel 41 – Kapitel 50

Vivienne left the connecting door fully open after her shower. Steam still clung to her skin. She wore only the white hotel robe, loosely tied, hair damp against her neck. The suite was quiet except for the low rush of the air system and the distant elevators moving through the building. Kane sat in the security room with the same black shirt, sleeves rolled, a single laptop open to the camera feeds of the hallway and the floor below. He looked up when her shadow crossed the doorway. He did not speak. Vivienne walked into the room, stopped between his knees, and untied the robe. It fell open. Kane’s eyes moved over her bare body with the same focused attention he used on threat assessments. Then he closed the laptop, set it aside, and reached for her. He pulled her forward until she straddled his lap in the chair. The robe slipped off her shoulders completely. Kane’s hands were rough from work, warm, and unhurried this time. He mapped her waist, the curve of her ass, the soft weig

The beach house smelled of salt, old wood, and the faint citrus of the cleaner the caretaker used between seasons. Talia dropped her bag in the entryway and stood listening to the ocean. The drive up the coast had taken four hours. She was a week early on purpose. The rest of the family would not arrive until the following Saturday. She had told herself she wanted the quiet. The truth was simpler and harder to admit: Roman’s truck was already in the driveway. She found him on the back deck, barefoot, a bottle of beer dangling from his fingers, watching the dark water. Forty-one. Broad shoulders under a faded gray T-shirt. The same quiet intensity he had carried for years, the one that made every family gathering feel slightly too small. He was her mother’s sister’s husband. Off-limits by every rule that mattered. He had always kept those rules. Tonight the house was empty and the rules felt thinner than the screen door she had just walked through. Roman turned at the sound of her s

The fifth day arrived with a hard blue sky and a wind that pushed the ocean into long white breaks against the shore. Talia stood at the bedroom window in nothing but one of Roman’s shirts, watching the empty road that led up to the house. No cars. No dust plume. Two days left before the rest of the family arrived. The knowledge sat in the room like a third person. Behind her she heard the soft sound of Roman moving, then the heat of him against her back. He did not speak. He reached around, opened the shirt, and let it fall off her shoulders to the floor. Bare skin met the cool air from the open window. Roman’s hands covered her breasts immediately, rough palms dragging over the nipples until they peaked hard. He pinched both at the same time with exact pressure, rolling them between his fingers while his mouth opened against the side of her neck. The dual sensation pulled a low sound from her throat. He kept at it until her breathing changed and her hips shifted back against the

Serena arrived at 6:40 the following Thursday. The waiting area was empty. The receptionist had already left. Marcus opened the office door himself and stepped aside so she could enter. He locked it behind her without comment. The notebook that usually sat on the side table was gone. The charcoal couch looked the same. Everything else about the room had changed. He didn’t ask how her week had been. Marcus walked to her, took the coat from her shoulders, and set it over the back of his chair. His hands settled on her waist. For a moment he only looked at her—longer and more openly than he ever had during the months of sessions. Then he kissed her. It was slower than the week before, but heavier, the kind of kiss that already knew there would be no paperwork and no fifty-minute limit. He guided her toward the wide window that looked out over the darkening street. Blinds were half-drawn. City light cut across the floor in thin strips. Marcus turned her to face the glass, stood behind

The last fluorescent bank in the garage stayed on until 9:40 p.m. Catrine’s black sedan sat in the middle bay with the hood already raised. She had called the shop an hour earlier claiming the same intermittent stalling problem she had reported twice before. Both previous times the car had been fine by morning. Both previous times she had left with Dex’s number written on a paper towel and a look that lasted too long. Dex wiped his hands on a red rag and dropped it on the tool cart. Thirty-nine. Broad through the shoulders, forearms dark with old oil that never fully washed out, black work shirt with the sleeves cut off at the elbows. He hit the button for the main bay door. The heavy metal rolled down and locked with a final metallic thud that echoed off the concrete. He turned and looked at her. “There’s nothing wrong with the car.” “I know.” The admission sat between them under the hard white light. Catrine leaned back against the front fender. She was still in the cream blou