All Chapters of LUST& SIN: Chapter 91 - Chapter 100

The mall was crowded for a Saturday, families and teenagers and couples milling through the bright, air-conditioned corridors. Lena stood by the coffee shop entrance, checking her phone, wearing normal clothes for once—jeans, a simple blouse, sandals. No swimsuit. No wet hair. Just a regular person on a regular day.She saw him before he saw her. Lucas was walking through the crowd, dressed in dark jeans and a gray T-shirt, sunglasses pushed up on his head. He spotted her and raised his hand in a casual wave, weaving through the shoppers toward her."Hey," he said, stopping a few feet away. His eyes dropped to her legs, her waist, then back up to her face. "You look... normal.""So do you." She smiled, tucking her phone into her pocket. "Weird, right?""Very." He glanced around the busy mall, then back at her. "Coffee?""Sure."They walked side by side to the counter, not touching, keeping space between them like they were just friends. Like they hadn't spent the last week fucking in

Lena stood in the sitting room, her bag still on her shoulder, looking around without really seeing. She'd never been here before. All their time together had been stolen moments—pool halls, restrooms, cars—never somewhere they could actually be alone without looking over their shoulders.Lucas closed the front door behind her, locking it. The sound of the deadbolt sliding home was loud in the quiet house. "Make yourself comfortable," he said, his voice low. "Drink?"She set her bag down and turned to face him. "Just you."He crossed the room in three strides, his hands finding her waist, and kissed her—slow, unhurried, like they had all the time in the world. Because they did."Upstairs?" she asked against his lips."Eventually." His hands slid under her shirt, warm against her skin. "No rush. No one's going to walk in. No one's going to knock on the window."She laughed, the sound breathless. "That feels strange.""Good strange?""The best strange."He backed her toward the couch, l

Gray couldn't sleep.He lay in the master bedroom, Natalie curled against his side, her breathing soft and even. The mansion was quiet now, the caterers gone, the florists finished, the house settled into darkness. One week until the wedding. One week until he became a husband.But all he could taste was Peny.He closed his eyes and saw her in the passenger seat, her lips swollen from his kiss, her smile sharp and dangerous. *I'm your bride's best friend.* Like that was a challenge instead of a warning.Natalie stirred, murmuring something in her sleep. Gray eased out of bed, careful not to wake her. He pulled on sweatpants and a T-shirt, his heart hammering for no reason, his body hard and aching with a need he couldn't name.He told himself he was getting water. Told himself he was checking the locks. Told himself anything except the truth.His feet carried him down the east wing, past Dean's room, past the guest suites, to the door at the end of the hall. Peny's room. He stood ther

They stared at each other, breaths ragged, the air thick with what they'd done and what they hadn't finished.Dean moved first.He lunged forward and grabbed her, pinning her against the wall with his body, his mouth crashing into hers with rough, desperate hunger. Natalie gasped against his lips, her hands flying to his chest, pushing at him. She tried to pull away, her mind screaming that this was wrong, that Gray could walk in, that Peny could come back.Dean squeezed her breast through her dress, his grip rough and possessive, his thumb finding her nipple and rolling it hard.Natalie moaned into his mouth, the sound escaping before she could stop it. Her resistance crumbled. She kissed him back with the same hunger that had been building longer than either of them dared admit, her fingers curling into his shirt, pulling him closer. His other hand slid down her waist, gripping her hip, pulling her against his hardness.Dean lifted her easily, his hands gripping her thighs, raising

The evening light filtered through the tall windows of the east wing, casting long rectangles across the polished floor. Natalie stood at the long table, arranging place cards into neat rows, her movements precise and focused. She wore a cream-colored sundress, simple and elegant, her hair pulled back in a loose braid that fell over her shoulder.Across the room, Dean sat on a stool, supposedly untangling ribbon for the favors. But his eyes weren't on his hands. They were on her.He watched the way she moved, the line of her neck as she bent over the table, the curve of her spine, the way her dress clung to her waist and hips. He watched her hands, slender and efficient, sorting through cardstock with careful precision. He watched her lips, pressed together in concentration, occasionally parting as she counted or checked her list.Natalie noticed. She felt his gaze like a physical weight, heavy and hot against her skin. She kept her eyes on her work, her throat moving as she swallowed