Page 25 of Misconducts & Temptation

A shower would help clear my head and wash away the remnants of Marion’s cruel words.

In the bathroom, I turned on the water as hot as I could stand it and stepped under the stream. The warmth enveloped me, soothing my frayed nerves if only for a moment.

I couldn’t escape William’s visit or Marion’s plans for me, but I could face them on my own terms—quietly determined to find a way out of this life they’d trapped me in.

Stepping out of the shower, I dressed quickly and looked at myself in the mirror, water still dripping from my hair.

No more tears today.

With a deep breath, I left the bathroom and prepared to face whatever came next.

Chapter 8

Keaton

The room was bathed in a soft, golden light, shadows dancing on the walls. She stood before me, the girl from the masquerade, her face half-hidden behind a delicate mask. My heart pounded with an intensity I hadn’t felt in years, a raw and urgent need pulsing through my veins.

Her skin glowed like porcelain under the light, smooth and inviting. I could feel the heat radiating off her body, drawing me closer. My fingers itched to touch her, to trace the curves of her silhouette. The fabric of her dress clung to her form, tantalizingly close to slipping away with just a gentle tug.

I stepped forward, closing the distance between us. Her breath hitched, a soft sound that sent shivers down my spine. My hands found her waist, pulling her against me. The contact was electric, every nerve in my body alive with desire. I wanted her more than I’d ever wanted anything—more than freedom from my father’s control, more than escape from my arranged marriage with Lola.

Her lips parted slightly as I leaned in, capturing her mouth with mine. The kiss was slow at first, exploring and tasting, but it quickly grew heated. Her lips were soft and warm, molding perfectly against mine. I deepened the kiss, my tongue seeking hers as our breaths mingled.

With every touch, every caress, the world around us faded away. There was only her—her scent enveloping me, her body pressed tightly against mine. I slid my hands up her sides, feeling the fabric of her dress give way beneath my fingers. The desire to see her bare skin overwhelmed me.

I broke the kiss just long enough to peel the dress from her shoulders. It slipped down easily, pooling at her feet in a whisper of fabric. She stood before me now, exposed and vulnerable, yet so achingly beautiful it almost hurt to look at her.

My hands roamed over her skin, marveling at its softness. I wanted to memorize every inch of her—to know every curve and hollow by heart. She trembled under my touch, a mixture of anticipation and desire reflecting in her eyes.

Somehow, all that existed was this girl who had somehow slipped past all my defenses and ignited something inside me I couldn’t ignore.

I kissed her again, more fervently this time. My hands moved with purpose now—stripping away the last barriers between us until she was completely bare before me.

I couldn’t remember wanting anyone the way I wanted her. It didn’t make sense. Virgins had always been too much work, not enough payoff. But her... she was different. She stirred something primal inside me, something that demanded to be satisfied.

She moved with a grace that was both innocent and seductive, a tantalizing contradiction that made my blood burn. As she slid to her knees before me, I felt a surge of desire so intense it was almost painful. Goddamn, she looked so damn good on her knees. Her eyes met mine, filled with apprehension and eagerness that drove me wild.

Just as I reached down to tangle my fingers in her hair, a knock echoed through the room. The sound jolted me back to reality like a splash of cold water.

I groaned, the ache in my body unbearable now. I was hard, and there was no relief in sight.

My eyes snapped open. The room was dark, the only light coming from the sliver of sunlight filtering through the curtains. My body ached with need, my cock hard and straining against the sheets. The dream had felt so real—her touch, her warmth, the way she made me feel alive.

“Keaton!” My father’s voice boomed from the other side of the door.

“Fuck off,” I muttered, rolling over and squeezing my eyes shut. I wanted to go back to that dream, to her. But sleep wouldn’t come. Her image lingered in my mind, a ghost I couldn’t shake.

Who was she? The question gnawed at me, an itch I couldn’t scratch. She had to be someone from Crestwood. She looked familiar. But with so many faces and masks, how could I possibly find her?

The urgency clawed at me. I needed a name. I needed to know who she was.

The door flew open, banging against the wall. My father stood there, his face twisted in that familiar look of disapproval.

"Keaton, get up! You were supposed to meet Lola for brunch an hour ago," he barked, his voice slicing through the morning silence.

I cut him a look, reaching for the pack of cigarettes on my nightstand. "Do you think I give a flying fuck about Lola or brunch?" I lit a cigarette, the tip glowing as I took a long drag.

His eyes narrowed, nostrils flaring. "Put that out. You're a hockey player, not some delinquent."

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