All Chapters of Forbidden Agreements: Chapter 71 - Chapter 80

"So you had a fight with your stepfather, and are going to stay here until your mother finishes her business in Paris?" Moreau only nodded hesitantly after Juan let her sit on the single sofa. The man immediately asked specific questions, which were not forthcoming during their phone call and regarding the request to be picked up. She felt that bringing her own car was not a good decision. Abihirt would easily find her, but really, Moreau didn't want to come face to face. Something inside her was resisting, angry, hurt, because the man was not only abusive in bed. However, he unexpectedly barely gave Moreau a chance to take liberties. The scars left from Abihirt's actions occasionally tried to take control. Moreau had no idea what she was feeling. There was no denying that the memory of that man's hand... that almost touched her face, was like punching a hole in her heart and blowing her into pieces. Moreau snorted, then looked at Juan carefully. "Do you mind if I stay here

"Because you lied to Mrs. Voudly, now I'm really sick." Moreau spoke with an uncomfortable urgency after hearing the clatter of someone approaching. She felt cold all the time, and had just decided to take shelter under the thick blanket. It was quite a relief to be able to sleep in Juan's bed, considering there was only one room here with the man always sharing a bed with someone, if Juan's lover was not busy with work. However, the man had certainly followed Moreau's departure. Now towering over her with his arms folded across his chest. Juan clucked and flopped down on the long sofa. For a moment the man inhaled and exhaled a little roughly. Playing with his own hair with a skeptical look in his eyes. "You're not sick because I lied. That's just a coincidence. The truth is that you refused to eat since noon or afternoon when I offered you something to get into your stomach." Moreau had expected it. She was becoming more and more convinced that Juan was actually gathering

There was a slight difference, it was worth underlining. She was a little scared in the face of his hoarse and deep voice as he turned stern. Saying nothing more, she immediately grabbed the plastic burger, wanting to look inside the contents, but was a little surprised to find a solidly stitched cloth with both legs and hands in funny lumps. One of Moreau's eyebrows rose high as she lifted the object out. A stuffed panda. However, it felt a little wet. "What's this for?" She asked in surprise, hoping for a quick answer as she scrutinized Abihirt's face, which was damn handsome with a few strands of hair hanging down in front of his forehead. The man's fingers seemed to have repeatedly adjusted what was left. It should be noted that the messy dark hair was already a bit long, but maybe... Barbara was not in the mood to ask her husband to trim it. Fuck that. Whatever her mother wanted was not something Moreau needed to interfere with. Faintly... she detected Abihirt's lips s

The light of tendrils penetrating through the glass window, which Moreau had forgotten to cover last night, slowly made her frown. She immediately jerked awake, then looked back just to confirm something .... Her stepfather was on her back and shirtless. For a moment Moreau was transfixed by Abihirt's sleeping face. How calm, almost perfect. The man's breathing was regular, seemingly still too deep for Moreau to take any wrong action. She only intended to get up, wanting to pick up the cloth that was scattered carelessly. However, she stopped when her bright blue irises stared at the flat object the man had placed on the nightstand. So close. Moreau didn't know whether she should act recklessly or let the sudden curiosity go to waste. It seemed that the more she held back, the more it would make things a restless blob. Moreau's

Moreau's bright blue irises did not break eye contact for a moment, even though Juan was looking at her as if the man wanted to drink in some statement that had to be seriously elaborated. It was so odd to find Juan staring straight there, with such a skeptical look on his face. Much to Moreau's consternation, she had repeatedly tapped her fingers on her own lap and also arranged the strands of hair forward so that Juan would not find a reddish mark in the hollow of her neck. The man would grow suspicious. Moreau didn't want that to happen. "Can you stop looking at me like that, Juan? I'm uncomfortable." She spoke, but while adjusting the tapping of her hand into a faint squeeze on the hem of her thick furry coat there. "Why is that? You owe me many stories, Amiga. Now tell me, where did Mr. Lincoln sleep last night? He didn't leave the room after suddenly standing at the door of the house when I came home from the tavern, and even took over the burger I was supposed to bri