Her Admirer : The Unseen Heart

Her Admirer : The Unseen Heart

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WpMetadataReadMatureOngoing15m
WpMetadataNoticeLast published Tue, Feb 18, 2025
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Fiction
Romance
In the heart of midtown Manhattan, successful businesswoman Angeline Parker seems to have it all-a luxurious apartment, a thriving career, and a wardrobe full of designer clothes. Yet, beneath her polished exterior lies a deep loneliness, stemming from past betrayals that have left her wary of love. As Valentine's Day approaches, Angeline dismisses the holiday as a reminder of what she lacks. But everything changes when a mysterious package arrives at her door, containing an exquisite gift and a note from an unknown admirer. This unexpected gesture ignites a flicker of hope in her heart, challenging her to confront her fears and reconsider what love truly means. Little does she know, this admirer will turn her world upside down, leading her on a journey of intrigue, unexpected encounters, and the possibility of a second chance at love.
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Eve thought finishing her first year of university would mean freedom. Instead, it feels like falling - fast. When she meets Michael at a summer party, everything she's bottled up starts to spill out: her fear of failing, her hunger for more, the dizzy pull of someone who finally sees her. He's older. Confident. The kind of man who makes rules just to break them - and now, he's her new boss. Between the chaos of the kitchen and the pull of a man she shouldn't want, Eve discovers what it really means to burn for something - or someone - too much. Sneak Peek: "You should wear your hair up more often," he murmurs, his breath skating across my skin. "It shows the back of your neck." His lips graze that exact spot. "I like the back of your neck, shortcake." The contact is featherlight but somehow burns. His arms bracket me, caging me in without touching. Except for his breath, warm and devastating. I shiver. "W-what?" I manage to say, already breathless. "You heard me." His eyes roam my face, unapologetically, like he's memorizing the shape of every reaction. "And you're allowed to talk to boys," he says, voice low, full of unfiltered intent. "But when it comes to anyone making you feel good-" He finds my hip with one hand. The heat of it steals the sound right out of me. "Say, laugh," he continues, "or come-" His fingers slide slowly up my side, and my eyes snap to his. He's not smiling anymore. He looks possessed. "You're mine." He grips both my hips now and, with ridiculous ease, lifts me onto the desk. His voice drops, primal. "Open."

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