Page 155 of My Ruthless Husband

He arches an eyebrow. “Are you in the mood of a rematch?”

Heat floods my cheeks, the memory of last night flashing in my mind—me running through the mansion in nothing but a towel, with Damian chasing after me.

“No! I’m not. I just want to be away from you… W-what are you doing?”

With his piercing gaze locked on me, he reaches behind his head, gripping his sweater, and pulls it off in one smooth motion. He drops it to the floor. His bare chest gleams in the dim light of the room, every muscle taut as he watches me like a predator about to pounce.

“I said no, Damian!” My voice rises, as he kicks off his shoes, his hands already moving to the waistband of his jeans.

His response is maddeningly calm. “And I heard you.”

My eyes dart around the room, desperate for some kind of escape, but there’s nothing. No help, no way out.

“I am not your sex toy to use whenever you want!” I throw the words at him like daggers, hoping they’ll wound him, but he just smirks, that dark, infuriating smirk that makes my blood boil.

“You’re my wife,” he says, as if that one word is all the justification he needs. His gaze sweeps over me, heated and possessive, and I hate the way my body reacts, my skin tingling under his scrutiny.

“Wife? I never felt like your wife!”

He shrugs, his jeans unbuttoned as he steps closer, his movements deliberate. “Only proves I need to work harder at being a husband.”

“That’s not what I meant!” My eyes dart to the bathroom, and I take a step back, my pulse racing. “I want nothing to do with you. Absolutely nothing!”

“Prove it.”

It’s ironic how, once, I used to crave his attention, used to bend over backward just to get him to look at me. Now, I’d give anything to escape his gaze, to have him look away, to have him let me go.

When he prowls toward me, I bolt toward the bathroom. But Damian’s right there, his footsteps heavy behind me. I feel the air shift as he lunges for me, his hand catches the back of my jacket, yanking me to a stop. I twist out of the jacket, letting him have it before slipping past him and racing for the bedroom door.

My fingers fumble with the handle, yanking it open. I give a startled cry when his palm slams against the door above my head with a deafening thud, forcing it shut again.

I’m trembling whether from anger or fear, I can’t tell anymore but it fuels me. It gives me strength. “Either leave, or let me go!” I shout, turning to face him.

His gaze darkens as he steps closer. “No.”

“You can’t keep me here against my will!” My fists are clenched at my sides, nails digging into my palms as I fight to hold my ground.

He leans in, his breath hot against my ear. “Watch me.”

“I don’t want you, Damian!”

“And I told you to prove it.” His voice is dark, taunting, and before I can even react, his hand shoots out, gripping my wrist and yanking me toward him. His other arm wraps around my waist, pulling me against his bare chest, the heat of his skin burning through my thin clothes.

“Get your hands off me!” I struggle, pushing at his chest, but his grip tightens, his arms locking me in place. His mouth crashes down on mine, brutal and demanding, his lips forcing mine apart in a kiss that’s more about domination than anything else. It’s rough and consuming, and I hate myself for the way mybody reacts, heat pooling low in my belly despite my every effort to resist.

His hands move over me, rough and possessive, one sliding down my back, the other tangling in my hair, yanking my head back to deepen the kiss. His teeth graze my lower lip, biting down just hard enough to send a shock of pain through me, making me gasp.

“You can fight me all you want,” he growls against my lips. “But you’re still mine.”

That’s when I snap. I lean forward and bite into his jaw—hard. It’s no playful nip. I want to hurt him. He grunts in response before releasing me. I’m disappointed when I see there’s no blood, just a faint red mark where my teeth sank in.

“You little hellcat.”

I glare at him, ready to lunge again, but before I can move, he’s already seized my wrists, wrenching them behind my back. His grip is brutal as he pulls me hard against him. “I thought I fucked the fight out of you last night and this morning. Guess I was wrong.”

My breath is ragged, fury blazing through me as I struggle against his iron hold. “You kicked me out of your office earlier,” I spit, trying to remind him of his own dismissal.

He secures my wrists in one hand, the other reaching up to brush a curl away from my face with chilling calm. “And that’s why you’re denying us our pleasure?”

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