Smoke And Sin Book Novelas e Histórias

His amber eyes burned with dark lust as he looked at her roughened state. “Chapter One begins tomorrow.”

It suddenly felt like even breathing had become a mistake. My fingers tightened slightly around my bag as I tried to settle my eyes in a particular angle. Then suddenly, the man leaned forward just slightly. He pressed his cigarette into the ashtray to put it out, took a slow sip of wine, and then said to me, “Come closer.” I hesitated for a while. But then, images of April suddenly flashed in my mind again—weak, fragile, fighting for life in a hospital bed that was slowly draining what little time I had left.

My throat dries up instantly and my pulse slams so hard I feel dizzy. For a second, I swear I don’t even know my own damn name. Sage sees me in the mirror and she freezes up. Her lips part but nothing comes out. The saleswoman glances at me with a little smug smile. “She looks beautiful, doesn’t she?” Beautiful? Beautiful isn’t even the word. Beautiful is what you call flowers and soft mornings. Sage looks like sin dressed up as innocence. But all that comes out of my mouth is a stiff, “She sure does.”

It is often a sign of recognition. Irresistible Sin is written for readers who understand that morality is not always black and white. That people can hold strong values and still falter. That love can be sincere even when it is complicated. And that sometimes the hardest battles are not between good and evil, but between restraint and truth. This is also a story that respects emotional boundaries. While it explores desire, connection, and temptation, it does so with intention. The focus is not on excess, but on meaning. On what it feels like to want something deeply, to resist it earnestly, and to question who you become in the process.

On the other end of the line, I heard him groan, a long, harsh, guttural sound of release. I lay there, trembling, my chest heaving, listening to the heavy, ragged breathing of the man who owned my soul, the silence of the room heavy with the scent of our shared sin.

He continued reading for a while after I entered and only looked up when he had marked the place he had stopped. “Damian,” he said simply as he leaned back on his seat, acknowledging my presence. “Selene is not right for me. She's just,” I began. “You're wasting your time,” he snapped. “This is about your feelings, no one cares about that.” “I can't commit my life to someone that has no value to me. And that's what you're trying to make me do,” I protested. “I don’t want to live a lie.” “You’re already living a lie,” he replied without missing a beat. “You’re living a lie pretending that you have a choice.”

* I took a cigarette from the pack and flicked a lighter at the tip, lighting it before taking a slow inhale and exhaling the smoke. I pulled open my drawer and picked up the thick-covered book—the same one which contained the names of all the people I’d killed on Rex’s order. I walked to the fireplace in the living room area, with the book in my grip. I’d thought storing their names here was a form of respect, a symbol of it. But perhaps, I was wrong.

He continued, "We were very much in love." "You mean you and Camilla were in love." I smiled mockingly. "To this day, I can remember the taste of those infertility tonics you gave me." Maurice's jaw dropped, and he gaped at me. I continued, "Oh, and what was it that you said to me before I died? You asked me why I'd yet to go to hell. You said my existence stopped you and Camilla from being together. "You also said that I was cursed and that I shouldn't have dirtied the bedchambers you shared with Camilla. And after my death, you had me—the dignified daughter of the Chapman family—wrapped in a straw mat and thrown into a mass grave."

the bloodline I had set free: “I am human. I am free. I set the book down and struck a match. The flame flickered to life, small and fragile at first, and then I pressed it to the edge of the page. It caught, curling, blackening, and I whispered softly as the fire danced: “All that binds me, all that claims, Leave this world, return your flames.” Smoke spiraled upward, carrying the words with it, and I moved to the next book. One by one, I let the fire take them, letting the flames consume every page, every line, every trace of power I never wanted. The smell of burning paper filled the room, sharp and earthy, but I welcomed it. By the time the last book was ash, I sank to the floor, hands t

ERICA The dim glow of the red lights painted the room, flickering faintly across the walls. As I stepped in, the door clicked shut behind me, and I was left alone in the suffocating quiet, broken only by the low thrum of music from outside. The room was hazy with smoke, thick and heady, wrapping around me like a trap. My eyes adjusted slowly, taking in the figure sprawled on the velvet sofa at the center of the room. My heart stuttered. There was something familiar about the way he held himself, his frame cast in half-darkness.