Forbidden Romance Tales
The slow, steady rhythm of his breath, the way the sheets tangled around his waist, the absolute peace on a face that commands courtrooms, it all conspired to drag me back to the beginning.
You know me better than anyone, my silent confidant. You remember the girl I was, the one who put salt in the sugar bowl at the debutante ball, who superglued the headmaster’s gavel to his podium after an unjust ruling. That was a childish sort of mischief, a sparkler compared to the wildfire that smoldered in me later. Pranks lost their flavor. The thrill I sought became darker, richer, more intimately tied to the flesh and the dangerous music of power.
To the world, he is Charles McLane, a titan of crim