Watashi No Ai Meaning

It has been fifty-five days since my fiancé cut me off. I called off the wedding I'd waited eight long years for. All while he was caring for his childhood sweetheart, who was battling depression and seeking peace at a remote retreat. He even had the historic chapel—a local landmark called the Aethelred Sanctuary—closed to the public for six months because of her. And me? I was left to face the swarming reporters, hounded from one place to the next until I had nowhere left to hide—all because he disappeared without a word. Out of options, I went to the retreat to find him. But he turned me away, saying I would disturb the quiet and sanctity of the place. In the bitter cold of deep winter, I collapsed outside the gates, barely holding on. When I woke, I saw him—Jonathan—planting an entire garden of roses on the grounds, every bloom a declaration of love. Six months later, he finally left and returned home with his childhood sweetheart. The roses they had planted now filled what was supposed to be our wedding venue, from floor to ceiling. I watched them, cold and unmoved. What he didn't know was this—I was already engaged to someone else.

My husband is a man with powerful emotions. To keep his adopted sister content, he allocates millions annually for her to spend lavishly. He's concerned about her well-being. Each night, he sits by her, ensuring she settles down. Later, when I was shot and bleeding heavily, requiring immediate aid, he remained utterly indifferent.He directed the entire medical team to his distraught adopted sister instead. I used my remaining strength to call my husband. The phone connected. His voice, tinged with irritation, answered: "What is it now? You're fine, perfectly healthy. Why would you need a doctor?" "Listen, Sofia needs me. Our family's medical resources are spread thin. For minor issues, just bear with it." My heart sank, feeling as if it had turned to ice. He truly is a man with powerful emotions. It's just that the one he truly cares about has never been me.

When desire knows no boundaries, every moment counts. Untamed Desire brings you a collection of provocative short stories exploring forbidden touches, secret cravings, and unexpected connections. From strangers trapped in a storm to tangled love triangles and power plays, these tales explore lust and longing in all their raw, intoxicating forms. Each chapter is a standalone story—perfect for quick, sultry reads that ignite your imagination and leave you wanting more.

Un accord entre les familles a forcé mon fiancé Marc Claude à m'épouser. Mes parents étaient morts. Il avait une obsession pour Isabelle Laurent, la princesse de nos rivaux. Au final, Marc a dévoré l'empire de ma famille et m'a jetée aux loups. Il se pavanait avec Isabelle dans son bras comme un prix qu'il avait gagné. Vingt ans plus tard, j'étais sur mon lit de mort. Mon propre fils, notre fils, détenait le poison. Il disait que j'étais inutile, que son père avait besoin du pouvoir de la famille Laurent. Puis j'ai ouvert les yeux. J'étais de retour. Le jour de mon serment de sang. Cette fois, pour sauver ma famille, je n'ai pas signé mon nom sur le pacte. J'ai signé le sien, celui d'Isabelle Laurent. Quant à moi, j'ai pris la fortune que mes parents m'ont laissée et j'ai disparu. Cette fois, je ne serais pas l'idiote qui saignait pour un homme qui n'a jamais été le mien.

Pour me convaincre de l'épouser, Julien Laurent a organisé soixante-six voyages afin de me demander en mariage. À la soixante-septième fois, j'ai finalement acquiescé, touchée par sa persévérance. Le premier jour de notre mariage, j'ai préparé soixante-six cartes de pardon. Nous avons convenu que chaque fois qu'il me contrariait, il pourrait utiliser une carte pour obtenir mon pardon. Pendant six ans de mariage, chaque fois qu'il m'énervait à cause de son amie d'enfance, il me demandait d'utiliser une carte de pardon. Après avoir utilisé soixante-quatre cartes, Julien a remarqué que quelque chose n'allait pas chez moi.

Dans la ville côtière ensoleillée de Seaport Blossom, Zara, une fleuriste solitaire, brûle dans le ciel d'une nuit d'été un vœu désespéré : trouver le grand amour. Le lendemain matin, un charmant inconnu nommé Noel entre dans sa boutique, prétendant être son « exauceur de vœux d'été », lié à elle pendant 25 jours seulement pour lui apporter son âme sœur… ou disparaître à jamais. Alors que Noel lui présente des hommes parfaits, Zara se surprend à tomber amoureuse de celui qu'elle ne pourra jamais avoir. Car Noel n'est pas un magicien. Il est le fantôme de l'homme qu'elle a tué dans un accident de voiture, en état d'ivresse, un an plus tôt, la victime dont elle ne se souvient plus du visage, mais dont le nom hante ses cauchemars. À présent, le temps presse et les souvenirs enfouis refont surface. Zara doit affronter une vérité impossible : le seul homme qu'elle ait jamais vraiment aimé est celui qu'elle a détruit… et l'aimer en retour pourrait condamner son âme à un tourment éternel. Un récit poignant de pardon, de secondes chances et d'un amour assez fort pour défier la mort elle-même.

Celia Johnson, my boss's sister-in-law, joined the company as the finance director and announced that all reimbursements must strictly follow the standards. I spent an entire week running around for the company and finally closed a five-hundred-thousand-dollar deal. Because the client had used two extra packs of paper towels, the per-person amount for their meal ended up eight dollars over the limit. Celia folded her arms, glanced at the reimbursement form on my desk, and sneered. "Five hundred and eight dollars?" "Yes. Last night at The Peak Restaurant, where we closed Richard's deal. Zack was there too," I explained patiently. "Eight dollars over the per-person limit. Not reimbursable," Celia said coldly. I tried to reason with her. "This was a special case. The client is high-level, and the deal amount is large, and Zack personally said it would be fully reimbursed last night." She returned the reimbursement form to me. "I don't care who said that. Don't think closing a five-hundred-thousand-dollar contract lets you ignore company rules. Reimbursements must all follow policies. Everyone will follow them to the letter." I took a deep breath. I knew arguing with her head-on would get me nowhere, so I called Zack directly. Zack said, "I did say it would be reimbursed, but I never said company rules could be ignored. It's just five hundred. And you still get commission from closing the deal. You young people need to have perspective." I stopped arguing. I turned around and refused the delivery containing the hard copy of the five-hundred-thousand-dollar cooperation contract, smiling as I explained, "Company rules say all cash on delivery packages must be refused. "Also, today is my last day here. Starting tomorrow, I work for Richard's company. As the client, I will be setting the rules this time."

The year my girlfriend, Maisie Summers, and I were supposed to get married, I broke up with her. Later, she made it big and used every means necessary to force me to marry her anyway. Everyone says we're destined to be together from the start. Yet no one knows that after we got married, she's been bringing different men home every so often. I never react and pretend as if I don't see anything. While she sleeps around night after night, I silently count how many days I have left to live.

In eight years together, my boyfriend—Shayne Raffield—blocked me eighty-eight times. This time? Because I missed his call. At my best friend's birthday party. Usually, I'd panic-order a gift, then stand outside his office, head down, ready to beg. But today? I blocked him first. The Chat Feed popped up, loud as ever: [Nooo, Ley-Bae, don't block Shay-Shay! He's just got abandonment issues. Comfort him!] [Shay's heart = shattered; Eyes = red. Ley, go! One pout and he's yours again!] Then Shayne called. Didn't say a word. Just breathed for ten seconds and hung up. The Chat Feed freaked out. [AHHHH SHAY LOVES LEY SO MUCH HE JUST SUCKS AT SAYING IT. THIS COWARD'S GONNA LOSE HIS GIRL.]

The chimes of the Full Moon Festival echoed through the night air. I fought down the nervous flutter in my chest and shot a text to Beta Lucas. "When are we telling the pack, Beta Lucas? When do we finally mark each other?" "I was still holding my breath when my brother, Alpha Ryan, suddenly raised his hand." He pointed at the Sacred Oak in the middle of the plaza, his voice laced with surprise. "Hey, Elena. Isn't that Lucas?" "He's holding a girl's hand. Looks like the pack's in for a celebration." I followed Ryan's gaze on instinct. In that split second, my wolf went completely cold. Lucas was kissing the girl in his arms, deep and passionate. I recognized her right away. It was Sarah, the rogue wolf Lucas had brought back from the forest border the week before. Word was she'd saved Lucas's life. I must've been staring too hard, because Lucas suddenly looked up and locked eyes with us. His pupils shrank the second he saw me. A few seconds later, he slowly let go of the girl in his arms. "Ryan, Elena. Let me formally introduce you two." "This is Sarah, my chosen mate." When he got to me, Lucas's eyes darted away. He glanced quickly at my pale face, then turned to the Sarah beside him. "This is Elena, Alpha Ryan's sister. She's like a little sister to me, too." We'd shared a bed countless nights. And all I got in the end was the label of sister. Fine, then. If your little sister marries another Alpha, you'll surely bless me, won't you?