The Object Of My Affection Novel Novels & Stories

"Why're you so obsessed with this RC anyway?" "Are you kidding me? He's 'The Reece Brown' the heartthrob, the sweetheart, the sweetest, kindest and the most understanding boss unlike my present rude boss," he narrowed his eyes at her, she averted her gaze and continued, "moreover he is my ideal man, the one I'm here for? the one who can send me back home." "Can he now?" "He's the main character, I'm his heroine, after the completion of the story I get to go back home, in short, he's the ticket to my world." She reasoned it out.

Raised together. “They are very affectionate. Very very good. After many years, it still doesn't fade. Special terms but also capitalized. Outstanding.” "That is enough. I don't want to be a talkative person to find out about other people's love stories. This story ends here. That kind of love is enough. So work seriously. No more mistakes can be made.” "It's not good to have too many things. Knowing too much will only add to the trouble." [The host is clear. Last time the host spent a lot of time on meaningless things. The app doesn't know if affection is necessary for the host, but according to the app, it doesn't make any sense.]

Abigail's POV - Days flow steadily, like a calm river winding its way through life's landscapes. I sit at my desk, penning down words that weave stories of love and heartache. Fragrance of Love, my most successful novel to date, brought the intoxicating aroma of success into my life. Now, I'm immersed in crafting its sequel, Fragrance of Love Season 2, hoping to give the love it couldn't find in the first part—a story mirroring my own life's journey, finding its path to happiness.

Zane questioned, “That she belongs under your protection now?” Adrian clenched his jaw, “I’m not claiming her.” “You don’t have to. You already act like she’s yours.” The words hit like thunder. “I am not an object to be claimed!” I snapped. Silence fell instantly. For a brief moment, both of them looked at me just as men who had forgotten I was standing there. Adrian was the first to look away. “I never meant…” he began. “I know,” I interrupted Adrian quietly. I knew and I could feel it: the way Adrian’s gaze lingered, the way his body instinctively positioned itself between me and danger and the way his voice shifted when he spoke my name. It was the buried affection he had for me, and tha

"Your Grace, my wish to marry you is not out of gratitude for the help you gave my mother, nor for the shelter you offered us. I… I like you." At that, I looked at him quickly. His cheeks were now fully flushed, like the evening sky tinged with the red of sunset. I felt heat rise in my own face as well—I was likely no better off than he. "I had meant to give up," he went on. "I didn't want to trouble you any further, nor cause harm to your good name. But the other day, when Lady Carissa said I couldn't tell the difference between gratitude and affection—that I sought marriage out of misplaced debt—I realized she was mistaken."

I closed my eyes and let it guide me, as if every pulse reminded me that she was alive, that she was mine, that nothing - no one - would tear her away from me again. I felt his fingers sliding through my hair, a slow, affectionate cafuné, so simple and so intense at the same time. Michelle had this gift to disarm me, to pull out of me everything that I always hid even from myself. All my life I learned that affection was weakness, that love was a trap... but there, lying on her chest, I realized that I didn’t want anything else. Forever. I squeezed her hips with my hand, going up to her waist, just to make sure she was there, real. I took a deep breath, inhaling the sweet smell of her skin,

I yelled at him, my misplaced rage making an abrupt comeback. "According to the government, your husband, my fucking whore wife. Do you want to hear that I'm glad the only dick you've ever fucked is mine? Because I am. Deal with it," he said, moving more gently over this hand, as it had been the one to connect with his jaw. "Nice shot," he said, kissing my red knuckles. We moved from indifference, to objectification, lust, then slivers of affection with such speed, I couldn't keep up. I couldn't deny it though. I liked whore wife. It seemed… appropriate.

“Because I’ve decided I won’t let anyone else have you.” The air between us was thick now, tense, almost electric. “Is this how you show affection?” I asked, quieter. “By caging people?” “I show affection by not letting you get hurt,” he said. “By burning down anything that tries.” My breath hitched. “I don’t need saving,” I whispered, but even I didn’t sound convinced. It thrilled me in a way, and made me curious in another. What did I have to lose? “No,” he agreed. “You need keeping.”

The simple gesture made my breath catch. I should have moved away. Instead I stood perfectly still. His gaze dropped briefly to my mouth. Then returned to my eyes. The look he gave me was devastating. Not possessive. Not obsessive. Something worse. Something that looked suspiciously like affection. My chest tightened painfully. The dream shifted again. Now we were standing on a rooftop. Wind moved through my hair. The city stretched endlessly beneath us. Aiden stood behind me. Not touching. Just there. Close enough that I could feel his presence.

In this room, in this moment, the only thing that mattered was Novel. I moved my hand to her breast, squeezing firmly through her clothes. “Ahhh!” she moaned. I pulled back just enough to see her face. It was a beautiful mask of pleasure and slight pain, her brow furrowed, her lips parted. I reached up to brush a stray lock of hair from her damp forehead. “You’re so beautiful, Novel. So beautiful that I fall in love with you all over again every time I look at you. Don’t ever leave me.” She opened her eyes, staring directly into mine. “I would never leave you, Alexei.”