Page 72 of Misconducts & Temptation

Keaton guided me out of the house. As we stepped back into the cold night air, I felt a strange mix of fear and exhilaration. For once in my life, I had stood up to Marion and defended myself—and Keaton—instead of cowering in fear.

As we walked back to the car, his arm wrapped around me protectively. Despite everything, for the first time in a long time, I felt a glimmer of hope that things might finally change for the better.

Keaton opened the door for me before getting in himself. I slipped into the passenger seat, still reeling from the confrontation with my stepmother.

“Why did you do that?” I asked, my voice barely above a whisper. “Why give her so much?”

“So she’ll stay away,” he replied, staring straight ahead. His voice was gruff, the tension in his shoulders palpable. “A few thousand dollars doesn’t mean shit if she’s not hanging around you.” He glanced at me then, his eyes softening just a fraction. “Why did you slap her?”

“She was being unnecessarily cruel,” I said, my voice trembling slightly. “What she said about your mother…” My words trailed off, the memory of Marion’s venomous tone still fresh in my mind.

Keaton scoffed, a bitter laugh escaping his lips. “My father is much worse.”

“I’m sorry,” I said softly. “You don’t deserve that.”

He scoffed again, shaking his head slightly. “You know,” he drawled, a hint of a smile tugging at the corner of his mouth. “You looked so fucking good slapping that bitch for me.”

My heart jumped at his words, and I glanced at him, surprised by the compliment.

Before I could process what was happening, Keaton turned off the main road and took us down a narrow path. The car bumped along until we reached a hidden alcove surrounded by trees. He killed the engine and the sudden silence felt almost deafening.

“Where are we?” I asked, my voice barely above a whisper.

“I come here to think,” he murmured, his gaze locking onto mine. “But right now, I brought you here so I could fuck you.”

Before I could react, he pulled me into a kiss, his lips crashing against mine with an intensity that left me breathless.

Chapter 22

Keaton

Icouldn't help myself. Her lips were like a lifeline, pulling me from the abyss of my own darkness. I pulled her into another hungry kiss, feeling her warmth and the softness of her mouth against mine. The car's cramped space made our positions awkward; the gear shift dug into my side, but I didn't care. The moment was too intense to break.

Elodie’s hands tangled in my hair, and a low growl rumbled from my chest. No one had ever stood up for me before, not like she had. Her defiance against her stepmother, her willingness to challenge everything I thought I knew—it made me want to protect her, possess her.

My fingers traced the line of her jaw, moving down to rest on her neck. Her pulse hammered under my touch, matching the frantic beat of my own heart. I leaned back slightly, our breaths mingling in the confined space.

"Keaton," she whispered, her voice a mix of confusion and desire.

I couldn’t find words to respond. Instead, I kissed her again, deeper this time. Every barrier I had built crumbled under the force of this moment. For once in my life, I felt free—not from my father’s grip or societal expectations—but free to feel something real.

The windows fogged up as our bodies pressed closer. My hand slid down to her waist, pulling her onto my lap despite the awkward angle. She let out a small gasp but didn’t resist. Instead, she wrapped her arms around my neck and kissed me back with equal hunger.

I broke away briefly, resting my forehead against hers. "No one's ever stood up for me before," I admitted, my voice rough with emotion I usually kept buried deep.

Her eyes searched mine, understanding reflecting back at me. "You deserve more than this," she said.

Her words sliced through me like a blade and mended something inside simultaneously. Deserve more?

Elodie's lips brushed the side of my neck, hesitant yet yearning. Her innocence, the tender touch, sent a surge through me, and I grew hard beneath her. She must've felt it because she pulled back slightly, her eyes wide and uncertain.

"Come on," I urged softly. "Let's move to the back."

We scrambled out of the car, the warm night air hitting us briefly before we slid into the back seat of my Maserati. The interior was sleek, black leather with custom stitching that gleamed under the soft lighting. It was a confined space, luxurious but intimate, designed more for speed than comfort.

I turned to her, noticing the nervousness in her eyes. Her hands fidgeted in her lap, and I could see her chest rising and falling with quickened breaths. Without thinking, I reached out and pulled her to me, wrapping my arms around her trembling form.

"Hey," I murmured against her hair. "I've got you."

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