Page 85 of My Ruthless Husband

“Fine.” I stare back even when my legs shake. “Now take me home. I’m tired.”

Clutching my hand, he resumes walking.

We are near the exit when suddenly the hairs on the back of my neck stand on end. The feeling compels me to turn my head and I find myself staring at the man with blue eyes. The same man who’d spent the entirety of his speech staring at me earlier.

He is surrounded by three beautiful women, all showering him with admiring glances but his attention firmly remains on me. His eyes never stop tracking me until I’m out of view.

That was… odd, I think to myself as Damian helps me in the limo before climbing in himself.

???

I run inside the mansion as soon as the limo comes to a stop. Damian doesn’t stop me. Doesn’t call out my name as I hear him climbing out of the car, my heart thudding when the car door is shut.

It’s hard not to notice that there’s no one in the mansion. I can’t help but wonder if this is Damian’s doing, clearing the mansion of all prying eyes and ears for us. My face heats up when I remember he used to do just that after returning from his work trips.

During those times, Damian didn’t want anyone around because he loved engaging in the bedroom activity with me in every corner of the mansion.

I start in the direction of the kitchen. My pulse quickens, echoing the erratic beat of my heart.

I’m going to sleep with my husband. The knowledge sends shivers down my spine.

I swing open the refrigerator door. My eyes scan the shelves until they land on a bottle of water. Grasping it, I twist the cap open, the sound breaking the silence of the kitchen.

The first sip is like a lifeline, the cool water soothing my parched throat. I relish the sensation, closing my eyes briefly.

As I lower the bottle and close the fridge door, I sense his presence.

Refusing to show him my nervousness, I turn defiantly, ready to show him a fake confident smile. But the smile dies instantly. Gone by the sight of his tall frame shadowing the kitchen doorway.

“Thirsty?” his silky-smooth voice mocks.

My breathing stutters in my lungs. I close my eyes, feeling the heat spread through me, then open them again, trying to calm my heart. But it’s useless—just the sight of him has me aching, my body already ready for what’s coming.

Damian stands there, leaning against the frame of the kitchen. One side of his jacket is pushed aside, his hand thrusted in his pocket, as he watches me lose control of my body with grim satisfaction.

I grip the counter as he pushes off the frame and strides purposefully toward me. The dark desire in his eyes sends my insides into a tight spiral spin.

God! Please help me. I want him to devour me but at the same time I want to run away.

The silence eats at me. So does the heightened tension when he stops in front of me. Why does he have to be so intimidatingly tall? And big? I chew on my lower lip as I stare at the hard angles of his face.

“Are you going to fuck me here?” I murmur, sucking in a breath.

“Do you want me to?”

I can’t help but remember the times when he did fuck me in here. My legs tremble as I stare at my gloriously magnificent but ruthless husband. He is playing with me. Purposefully teasing my senses before he can do anything to me. I lick my suddenly dry lips. “Don’t torture me.”

“But you deserve it, angel.” He pulls me into his arms. I gasp. He dips his head and catches my parted mouth with his. My eyes widen then slides shut, giving in. I sway closer to his heat, my hands clutching the lapels of his jacket.

He deepens the kiss and I let him. Because I am done fighting. I take what he gives me. Because I want it. I want it so much it aches. My entire body trembles with a mere kiss from him.

My arms snake up and locks around his neck as his tongue slides along mine with shameless passion. He kisses me until we are both breathing heavily. Then he groans before breaking the kiss. “Now you taste like mine.”

Yeah. Because I gave in. “Well, sex was always spectacular between us.” I remind him and myself that this is nothing but sex. We will have sex. We won’t be making love like I used to think in the past. Because I know I’m married to a man who can never love me.

He bends and scoops me up into his arms. I cry out, clutching at his neck.

He carries me to our bedroom.