Unrequited Romance Books Novels & Stories

he answered, and this just made me even more curious to ask him more questions. “Even though you can order it, but then it would take days for it to get here and you need it right now, so you had to come here,” I answered, giving him an explanation, and he nodded in agreement, immediately locking in. “What’s the name of this book?” I asked, and he swallowed. “Just an old classic historical romance book; Rebellious Love by Maura Seger,” he answered, and I slowly nodded. “Okay then,” I said as I took slow steps away from him.

She was drenched for me, shivering as I whispered filthy things against her skin. I could feel the warmth of her, the way her body clenched around my fingers, the way she begged for more. And just as I pushed inside her, just as I claimed what I’d been craving— I woke up. Hard. Aching. Frustrated as hell. I had never wanted anyone like this. Not once. Not even Serena. I exhaled sharply, rolling my shoulders as I sat in my office, staring at the whiskey glass in my hand. Serena.

ELLIOT Heat and desire rose fast in my chest until I felt like I was about to buck under the weight of it all. In a distant corner of my mind, I couldn’t believe this was happening at all. This was definitely not what I had in mind when I came to Asher’s room and yet, I couldn’t bring myself to stop. I couldn’t deny the calm and peace that overflowed my entire being. Subconsciously, maybe this was exactly what I wanted. This nearness. Being in his space again. Existing in his orbit instead of outside of it.

"You want this, baby?" I hesitated, I should want it, should want him, but all I could think about was Rafael. The way his voice would sound if he said those words, the way his hands would feel on my skin. Tristan didn't wait for an answer. He gripped my hips, and lined himself up. The head of his c*ck pressed against my entrance, and I held my breath. Then he thrusted inside me. I gasped, my nails digging into his shoulders. He was big, bigger than I remembered, and the stretch burned, but it wasn't the good kind of burn, it wasn't the kind that made me ache. It was just... uncomfortable.

I polished the silver candle holders, straightened the heavy bedding, and wiped down his desk. As I worked, old rumors about Lord Edmund Blackwood filled my mind. At thirty-seven, he was still unmarried. People whispered that no woman could satisfy his dark, demanding appetites. That he was insatiable in the bedroom. I shook my head. Just baseless gossip. It was late when I finally finished with my chores for the day. Feeling restless, I decided to take a walk through the quiet halls to clear my head. That was when I heard it. A low, feminine moan echoed from upstairs.

Longest Summer Chapter 1 A big Maine cottage on Long Lake was rented for three months by my mom and her new lover. With Dad's death three years ago, Mom has been unemployed. Tom, her new fiancé, is independently rich and intends to visit her mother on weekends. Being my final summer before beginning college in the autumn, I had a wonderful time. My mother's infidelity troubled me at first, but once I gave it some thought, I could see how she might have loved Dad and still needed a man. To them, it's just moving on. Simply said, I'm horny and in the mood for a fuck.

“At least you have one successful daughter.” I nearly slapped her. Instead, I'd smiled. Smiled. And smiled. And smiled. Because that's what people like us do. Now, sitting alone with that invitation in my hands, anger simmered beneath my skin. This wasn't how things were supposed to happen. Nova wasn't supposed to win. She wasn't supposed to walk away. She wasn't supposed to become the woman everyone admired. And she certainly wasn't supposed to marry Nicolai Moreau. Yet somehow... Against all odds...

The handwritten title stares back at me: "Unspoken Vows." A romance story about two people caught in a fake marriage, slowly unraveling the walls they built around themselves. Sounds familiar. Yes. My first book is about me and Asher.

As if he were rediscovering me pulse by pulse. I sank into the kiss, my fingers digging into his shirt as if he might vanish if I let him go. The kiss grew deeper, but it wasn’t urgent. It was aching, filled with all the things we’d never said. With all the years of regret. With all the years of love that never went away. When we broke apart, we were still close, breathing each other in. “You still feel the same,” I whispered. “So do you,” he said. He traced his thumb along my cheek, wiping away a tear I hadn’t even known was falling. The gentleness of the gesture was my undoing.

The late sunlight spilled through the windows, painting gold over the wood. It felt like stepping into another world. A colder one. I walked to the bookshelf, scanning the titles. Politics. Pack histories. Strategy. Economics. Of course. I sighed, sliding my fingertips along the spines, hoping for a hint of softness, something romantic. Maybe a love story tucked away. Or even one of those dark, forbidden romance books where love and ruin intertwined, something that mirrored the madness between Lucian and me. But the rows offered no such comfort. I chuckled quietly to myself. “Of course not. Lucian probably thinks romance books are a waste of time.”