Forbidden Attraction: In love with my stepdad

The Line We Crossed The first thing Ariana noticed was the silence. Not the kind that comes with peace, but the kind that feels like a warning—thick, buzzing, wrong. The guards at the front entrance were missing. The lights in Matteo’s private villa were dim, flickering like something out of a dream. Or a nightmare. She stepped inside with her Glock drawn, heart hammering. She should’ve called for backup. She didn’t. She never did when it came to him. Her stepfather. Matteo De Luca. The man who raised her without ever touching her. The man who ruled the underworld with the calm of a storm about to break. The man who could ruin her with a word. And the man she’d dreamed of far too many nights. She found him in the master suite. The scent hit her first — thick, spicy, wrong. Something chemical, masked under the familiar notes of his cologne. Matteo was on his knees, back against the headboard, his shirt half-undone, chest heaving. His pupils were blown, sweat glistening down his throat. He looked up at her like he didn’t know whether to beg her to leave or crawl to her. “Ariana…” His voice was hoarse, rough with need and something far darker. “You can’t be here.” She lowered the gun. “You’ve been drugged.” He gave a slow, almost painful nod. “A drink. From a meeting. I didn’t taste it. I was… careless.” She moved closer. “Aphrodisiac?” His jaw clenched. “Something strong. Everything burns. My blood… my skin… f**k—” He gripped the edge of the mattress hard enough to tear it. Ariana swallowed hard. Her pulse was in her throat now. “Matteo. You need cold water. A doctor.” “No.” His voice was sharper. Desperate. “No doctors. No witnesses. You know what that would mean.” Her gaze locked with his. Beneath the lust was shame, fury—and something vulnerable that shattered her. The most powerful man she knew was unraveling in front of her. And she was the only one here to hold him together. She whispered, “What do you need?” He didn’t answer. He didn’t have to. The heat between them was unbearable, the tension years in the making, the attraction they never spoke of now burning to the surface in sharp, gasping breaths. “I can’t,” he rasped. “You’re my—” “I’m not your daughter,” she cut in. “And we both know this didn’t start tonight.” He looked like he might break. She stepped closer. “Let me help you.” When she pressed her palm to his chest, he trembled like he was holding back an explosion. “You don’t know what you’re offering,” he growled, eyes wild. She leaned in. Lips inches from his. “Then show me.” And he did. He snapped—like a storm finally breaking. Hands tangled in her hair, mouth crashing to hers in a kiss so deep it stole her breath and sanity at once. She didn’t hesitate. She welcomed the storm. She was the storm. Their clothes vanished in fevered, trembling touches. Years of repression burned off their skin with every kiss, every bite, every desperate movement. She straddled him, guiding him into her as he groaned her name like a confession he never meant to say aloud. “Ariana—f**k—I’m not supposed to want you.” But he did. And she wanted him worse. She rocked against him, slow at first, then harder when he bucked up to meet her. His hands gripped her hips like he’d drown without her. She moved faster, moaning his name, riding the line between love and sin. They didn’t stop until the drug burned out of his system and all that was left was want—raw, hungry, and terrifyingly real. Afterward, she lay beside him, heartbeat still echoing in her ears. Neither spoke. He stared at the ceiling, breathing like he’d just survived something he shouldn’t have. She turned to face him. “This changes everything.” He didn’t look at her. “This can’t happen again.” But even he didn’t believe it.