The forbidden lust

The scent of vanilla and freshly baked bread curled through the morning air, soft and inviting—a stark contrast to the man standing outside the tiny pastry shop. Matteo De Luca didn’t belong in a place like this. Dressed in black, with a presence that swallowed the light around him, he was a jagged piece of the underworld pressed against the softness of something pure.



He hadn’t meant to stop. Hadn’t meant to be drawn in. But there he was, watching the man behind the counter—flour dusting his fingers, lips pursed in concentration as he decorated a delicate éclair. A man who had no idea that with one glance, he had become an obsession.



Luca should walk away. He should forget the warmth, the scent, the man who smelled like sugar and safety.



But he wouldn’t.



Because when a man like him wanted something, he took it.



And right now? He wanted him.





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