Lust Behind Closed Doors
Behind every locked door lies a secret... For Elena, it's the hunger she hides from her cold and distant husband. For Adrian, it's the forbidden desire he feels for the one woman he should never touch-his stepmother.
What begins as stolen glances and teasing remarks quickly spirals into something dangerous. Behind closed doors, guilt turns into obsession, lust turns into fire, and the line between right and wrong disappears.
But how long can they keep their dirty secret before it explodes, tearing the family apart?
A forbidden romance dripping with passion, danger, and irresistible temptation.
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Chapter 4
Elena couldn't look at herself in the mirror.
Every time she tried, she saw swollen lips, flushed skin, eyes that glistened with guilt-and memory. The taste of Adrian lingered in her mouth, cruel proof of what she'd done.
I kissed him back.
The thought clawed at her chest like a dagger. She should have screamed. She should have slapped him. She should have ended it right there. But she hadn't. Instead, she'd melted into him, clung to him, begged with her body for more.
Her husband's face flickered through her mind, bringing nausea. Gregory had trusted her, given her a home, his name. And she'd betrayed him in the worst way imaginable.
The doorbell rang, startling her out of her spiral.
Elena pressed a hand to her chest, exhaling shakily. Thank God. A distraction.
But when she went downstairs, the hallway was empty. No visitor. No delivery.
Just Adrian.
He leaned against the wall near the door, watching her silently. His arms were folded across his chest, veins running thick across his forearms, his T-shirt hugging every line of his muscles. His gaze was unreadable-dark, intense, unyielding.
"Adrian," she breathed, heart thudding. "What are you doing?"
"Waiting," he said simply.
"For what?"
His smirk was slow, deliberate. "For you to stop pretending."
Heat surged through her veins. She swallowed hard, forcing her voice steady. "What happened yesterday was a mistake. It will never happen again."
His eyes narrowed. He pushed off the wall and stepped closer, his presence overwhelming. "A mistake?" His voice was low, dangerous. "Is that what you tell yourself when you close your eyes and replay it over and over?"
Her breath caught. She opened her mouth, but no words came.
Adrian leaned in, his lips brushing her ear. "You want me, Elena. You tasted it. You can't lie anymore."
Her knees trembled. She pressed herself against the wall for support, desperate to create space. "I want you to leave me alone."
But her voice cracked. Weak.
Adrian chuckled darkly, his breath hot against her cheek. "You don't sound convincing."
She shoved at his chest, but he barely budged. He caught her wrists in his hands, holding them against the wall. His grip wasn't painful, but it was unyielding, firm, a reminder of his strength.
Elena's pulse hammered in her throat.
"You think you can run from this?" he whispered, eyes boring into hers. "You think locking your door, avoiding me, will erase what happened? You're mine now, Elena. Even if you fight it, even if you hate yourself for it-you're mine."
Her breath hitched violently. "No," she whispered, shaking her head.
But Adrian's gaze dropped to her lips again, and the memory of his mouth crashing against hers flooded her senses.
Desire burned hot in her belly, betraying her words.
Sensing her weakness, Adrian released her wrists slowly, deliberately, but didn't step back. Instead, his hand slid down her arm, lingering against her skin. "Gregory will never touch you the way I do," he murmured. "He'll never look at you the way I do. You can't hide from me, Elena. Not in this house."
Her chest heaved, her lips parting helplessly.
Finally, with visible effort, she tore herself away, rushing past him into the living room. She put distance between them, clutching the edge of the couch, trying to steady her breath.
"Don't you dare say his name," she hissed, voice trembling. "Don't you dare drag your father into this."
Adrian followed, slow, predatory, his smirk never fading. "Why not? He doesn't deserve you. He doesn't even see you. But I do. Every curve. Every look. Every little sound you make when I'm too close."
Elena's face flushed crimson.
"I hate you," she whispered, though it came out strangled, weak.
"No," Adrian said, his smirk vanishing, his voice low and raw. "You crave me. There's a difference."
Silence thickened between them, charged, suffocating.
Elena's heart thundered so loud she swore he could hear it.
Finally, she turned sharply, storming toward the stairs. "Stay away from me, Adrian. I mean it."
But before she could reach her room, his voice chased her up the staircase.
"You can run, Elena. You can scream. You can curse me. But the next time I touch you-" his tone dropped to a growl, "-you won't stop me. You'll beg me for more."
Her steps faltered. Her breath caught in her throat.
And she hated herself for knowing he was right.
Elena spent the rest of the day locked in her room, pacing, staring at the walls, desperate to escape the suffocating weight of guilt and longing. She avoided the kitchen. She avoided the living room. Every space in the mansion felt haunted by him.
But hunger eventually drove her downstairs that evening.
The house was quiet.
Too quiet.
She made her way into the kitchen, relieved when she didn't see him there. She opened the fridge, pulling out some leftovers, trying to steady her breath.
But when she turned, Adrian was already leaning against the counter, watching her.
She dropped the plate with a startled cry, shattering porcelain across the floor.
His smirk widened. "Careful, Elena. You're jumpy."
Her chest rose and fell quickly. "I can't live like this, Adrian. I won't."
He pushed off the counter, moving toward her with slow, deliberate steps. "Then stop fighting me."
Her back hit the fridge. She had nowhere to run.
Adrian caged her in with his arms, his face mere inches from hers. His scent wrapped around her, dizzying, intoxicating.
"Admit it," he whispered, his breath brushing her lips. "Admit you think about me when you're alone. Admit your body aches for me."
Tears pricked her eyes. "Stop..."
But her voice cracked, betraying her again.
Adrian's gaze burned into her. For a long, tense moment, he didn't move. Then, slowly, deliberately, he brushed his lips against her jaw, feather-light. Not a kiss. Just enough to make her shudder.
Her knees nearly gave out.
"See?" he murmured darkly. "You're already mine."
And then, just as suddenly as he'd come, he stepped back, leaving her trembling, breathless, and furious with herself.
Elena sagged against the fridge, her hands shaking.
She hated him.
She hated herself more.
But most of all-she hated how badly she wanted him to come back.
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7.8
Alexis signed the divorce papers, leaving her with no assets, no alimony, and just the clothes on her back.
To forget her abusive husband Carlos, she got drunk and bought a high-end gigolo for the night with her last 800 dollars.
But the man she slept with wasn't an escort. He was Jarrett Hughes, a ruthless billionaire CEO.
And while she was gone, her ex-husband was busy destroying her entire life.
Carlos framed her with fake photos of her cheating to justify the penniless divorce.
Then came the real nightmare.
Carlos and her own aunt secretly drained her family's corporate accounts, driving her father to jump off a building.
At the hospital, her grieving mother blamed her for the tragedy, violently attacking her in the ER.
To top it off, her cousin Josie—who was secretly sleeping with Carlos—held her father's ashes hostage.
"Crawl on your knees and pick it up, or the ashes go in the river," Josie sneered, throwing cash into the freezing slush.
Stripped of her marriage, her father, and her dignity, Alexis sat bleeding in the snow.
She couldn't understand why the people she loved most had coordinated such a brutal slaughter against her.
But Carlos and Josie made one fatal mistake.
They didn't know the "gigolo" Alexis had accidentally bought was the most powerful man in New York.
Alexis looked at the towering billionaire standing behind her, a vengeful fire burning in her eyes.
"I need you to get my father's ashes back," she said, pulling him into a kiss right in front of her ex-husband. "I don't care what it takes."
8.5
Synopsis
It still feels so unreal being dumped by my boyfriend at the courtyard on the day of our wedding.
David didn't show up and when I called him to know the reason why.
He told me right to my face that he had found love with another woman who happened to be my best friend.
My heart was shattered into a million tiny pieces.
I was wallowing in self-pity when I overheard Lucas talking on the phone about needing a replacement for the woman who has collected a part-payment to be his wife.
I agreed to be his wife without thinking twice wanting to get back at my Ex.
What would happen when two strangers' hearts intertwined?
And what started as an arrangement became a bedrock for something real?
Read to find out.
7.2
Blaire woke up in a Manhattan penthouse, her body covered in bruises and her innocence stolen.
Before she could process the terror, her adoptive sister Danita burst in, acting heartbroken and accusing Blaire of shamelessly seducing the powerful Kamryn Lane. Kamryn threw a one-million-dollar check at Blaire's bleeding face, calling her a calculating gold digger.
That night, Blaire overheard a conversation in the family study that shattered her entire reality.
"Once she gives birth to the Lane family's seed, we'll stage an accident, drain her blood, and transplant her healthy heart into your chest."
Her adoptive mother and Danita were celebrating the success of their trap. She wasn't an adopted daughter; she was a living organ bank and a disposable surrogate. Even her adoptive brother, Calhoun, knew everything, trapping her in the dark hallways with a sick, possessive obsession to ensure she never escaped.
The horrific truth suffocated her. The family that had taken her in had raised her like livestock for slaughter. How could they smile at her every day while planning to carve out her heart?
Terrified but burning with a desperate will to survive, Blaire swallowed a Plan B pill to ruin their surrogate plot and fled the estate. To get the money and power she needed to crush her adoptive family, she pulled out Kamryn Lane's business card. This time, she would make a deal with the devil.
8.3
Imogen Montgomery was the perfect billionaire heiress, deeply in love and ready to marry her fiancé, Clark Ellis.
That all ended the night her cousin Kathleen ripped the sapphire pendant from her neck and pushed her into a pool of toxic chemicals to die.
Two years later, Imogen's eyes snapped open. But she didn't wake up in a hospital. She woke up tied to a stained mattress, trapped in the battered body of Briana, a teenage girl from the slums who had just been sold to a local trafficker.
After violently fighting her way out of a cheap motel, she discovered the horrifying truth. Kathleen had taken over the Montgomery Group. She had locked Imogen's grieving parents away in a psychiatric facility as prisoners.
And worst of all, Kathleen was now flaunting her stolen wealth online, preparing to marry Clark.
A wave of pure, white-hot rage boiled in her blood. Kathleen had murdered her, stolen her family, and was playing the perfect grieving cousin. How was she supposed to fight back? She was just a runaway nobody now. If she tried to expose the truth, Kathleen's security would shoot her dead in the street.
She needed a weapon. She needed a shield. She needed the one man Kathleen feared.
Covered in mud and blood, Briana intercepted Clark's car in the freezing rain. She was going to infiltrate his home as his vulgar, unhinged fake mistress, and she would drag Kathleen straight down to hell.
7.5
Five years ago, Alisson Ford's adoptive family drugged her and offered her to a repulsive old investor to save their failing company.
She escaped the trap, only to accidentally stumble into the bed of Jake Yates, the most terrifying and powerful billionaire in the city.
Months later, while she was painfully giving birth to triplets in a freezing basement, her adoptive sister Bella tracked her down. Bella violently snatched Alisson's firstborn son to pass off as her own ticket into the Yates family. Then, Bella smiled as her men poured gasoline over the mattress and set the room on fire, leaving Alisson and her two remaining newborns to burn alive.
Shielding her fragile babies with her own blistering skin in the roaring inferno, Alisson's despair turned into absolute, blood-soaked hatred. She couldn't fathom how the family she had trusted for years could steal her flesh and blood and condemn her to such a horrific death.
Five years later, Alisson returns to the city as a powerful trauma specialist. She steps right into Jake and Bella's grand engagement banquet, watching coldly as her five-year-old daughter runs straight up to the untouchable billionaire and hugs his leg.
"You are a bad daddy! You abandoned Mommy and us, and now you are going to marry an ugly old witch!"
9.5
Janet woke up gasping, the phantom fire of a deadly explosion still scorching her lungs. She had been reborn three years in the past, on the exact day her mother forced her into a marriage contract with Gaylord Bradford, a paralyzed and severely disfigured billionaire.
Before she could even process her second chance, her cousin Kandy kicked the bedroom door open, flaunting a massive diamond ring. Kandy, who had also been reborn, smugly announced she had stolen Janet's Wall Street golden boy fiancé, Jax Adler.
"You're going to marry that paralyzed monster," Kandy spat, gloating that she would build a billionaire dynasty with Jax while Janet wiped drool off a rotting corpse. Kandy expected Janet to have a complete mental collapse, completely unaware that Gaylord's own medical team was secretly injecting him with lethal neurotoxins to finish him off.
But Janet only felt a cold, clinical pity. Kandy's "prophetic" memories were a polluted lie. Jax was actually sterile and dying of irreversible kidney failure, while Gaylord wasn't a dying freak—he was a dormant god whose body was merely in a high-dimensional hibernation. Why would Janet mourn losing a doomed fraud?
Leaving her delusional cousin behind, Janet packed her bags and headed straight to Gaylord's maximum-security military cell. She physically tackled his corrupt doctor, drove three bio-electric silver needles into the crippled king's spine to awaken his deadened nerves, and looked him dead in his glacial blue eye.
"Sign the marriage contract," Janet whispered. "I will make you walk again, and we will take back everything."