บททั้งหมดของ WET DREAMS:A STEAMY COMPILATION: บทที่ 51 - บทที่ 60

Her hands trembled so badly she could barely fix the torn strap of her dress. Her fingers fumbled uselessly at the fabric, her breath shaky and uneven. But before she could even get herself together, she felt it—his eyes. Heavy, sharp, cutting straight through her.He stood in the doorway, broad shoulders blocking out the light behind him. His arms were crossed tightly across his chest, every muscle tense, his jaw locked in stone. His gaze was like knives, piercing her soul, stripping her of every excuse before she could even try.“Don’t bother,” he said finally, his voice low, deep, and dangerous. The kind of voice that made the hairs on her neck rise. “I already know.”Her throat went dry instantly. Her lips parted, a small gasp escaping, but no words followed. She wanted to explain, to defend herself, to say something. But the air between them was suffocating, pressing down on her chest until her lungs refused to work. The truth hung there, thick and heavy, and she knew there was n

Tonight was the annual masquerade ball my family held every single year. It wasn’t just a party—it was a tradition, something that had been going on for generations. People looked forward to it, dressed up for it, and whispered about it like it was the biggest event of the season. The mansion had been prepared for days, every corner scrubbed and polished until the marble floors shone like glass. The chandeliers above glimmered with hundreds of candles, their light bouncing off the golden walls. Roses in shades of red and white had been placed in tall crystal vases, their fragrance drifting through the air so strongly that I could smell them the moment I walked down the staircase.The ballroom was filled with people already. Women in long gowns that glittered under the light, their masks decorated with jewels and feathers. Men in suits that fit them perfectly, their masks simpler but still grand. The sound of laughter and soft voices carried over the classical music the orchestra was p

Filling the doorway like he owned the entire room, like this had been his plan all along. He leaned against the frame with the ease of someone who belonged everywhere, even in places he shouldn’t. His mask still covered his face—black and sharp, with edges that caught the faint glow of the lamp. It made him look more dangerous, almost unreal, like a figure that had stepped out of a nightmare and yet looked far too perfect to be human.Before I could even find my voice, before I could demand what he was doing here, he moved. A smooth, confident stride carried him into the room, and then—one swift motion of his foot kicked the door shut. The loud slam echoed off the walls, the sound bouncing in my ears and making my entire body jolt.My breath hitched. My throat closed up. Panic twisted in my chest, sharp and hot, but tangled up with something else I didn’t want to name. Something that made my stomach tighten in a way I hated.Then came the sound.Click.The lock sliding into place, fin

The slit in the fabric slid open, leaving my skin exposed. I wanted to pull it down, to cover myself, but his hands were already on my waist, warm and firm, holding me in place. My heart pounded so hard I was sure he could feel it through my body pressed against his. His lips stayed locked on mine, hungry, forceful, as if he’d been waiting years just to kiss me like this.My hands trembled against him, first clutching his shoulders, then sliding down to his chest. The heat of his body burned through the thin material of his shirt. Each kiss we shared seemed to pull me in deeper, my mind hazy, my body giving in no matter how much I told myself this was wrong.When he finally broke the kiss, I gasped for air, my lips swollen and tingling, my whole body aching for more. His eyes held mine, sharp and intense, like he wanted to memorize every part of my reaction. For a moment, neither of us said a word. His chest rose and fell beneath me, steady, controlled, while mine raced like I’d run m

The piece of paper Emiliano left on my bed had been sitting in my bedside drawer all week. It was small, just a folded scrap from a notepad, but every time I opened that drawer it felt like it was staring at me. Like it was waiting to explode.Sometimes I pulled it out just to look at it. My eyes would stay on the folded lines, as if the stupid address written inside could somehow give me answers I didn’t even know I wanted. My fingers would twitch, wanting to rip it up and be done with it. Once, I even stood over the trash can, holding it above the bin, so close to letting it fall in. But I couldn’t. My hand refused to move.Because the second I thought about throwing it away, I remembered him. His lips crushing against mine. His hands holding me like I belonged to him. His deep voice calling me little bunny in that cocky way of his, a voice that still made my stomach twist even though I hated it.So I shoved the paper back into the drawer, hiding it under random things like old rece