Page 173 of My Ruthless Husband

“Mrs. Montgomery,” he says, his tone formal, but there’s a warmth behind his words. “It’s good to see ye well.”

“It’s good to see you too, Archibald,” I reply softly.

Fiona, the young maid comes rushing to my side, greeting me with a big, infectious smile.

“I kept yer favorite tea blend stocked,” Morag tells me while Fiona proudly declares she already has my bedroom prepared.

Damian steps closer then. “River, you should—”

But I hold up a hand, my eyes snapping to his with a cool, distant look. “I know the way to the bedroom,” I cut him off, my voice steady. “You don’t need to order anyone to guide me.”

For a brief second, there’s a flash of something in Damian’s eyes, but he holds his silence, jaw tightening as I brush past him, Morag, Fiona and Vicky following suit.

In the bedroom, we all spent a few more minutes chatting.

Eventually, they leave me to settle in. I don’t waste any time and get into the bathroom, filling the tub with steaming water.

I sink into the hot water, letting it ease the tension in my muscles. The memories this place holds are still raw, but the warmth is soothing. I close my eyes and allow myself to relax, even if it’s only for a little while.

When I finally step out of the bath, I wrap myself in a plush towel. My hair is still damp. I rub it with another towel as I open the bathroom door.

Just as I exit, I find Damian entering the room in a robe, his hair still wet and tousled.

Our eyes lock, and for a heartbeat, the air thickens with unspoken tension. His gaze is dark, intense, and I can feel my pulse quicken.

He seems to take a moment to absorb the sight of me, too—damp, flushed and wrapped in a towel. “I used the guest bathroom,” he states finally, striding toward me.

I clutch the towel tighter around myself, maintaining my composure. “I see,” I reply, forcing my voice to remain cool.

He steps closer, but I hold my ground, my back straight. I refuse to let him have any power over me, even if he’s standing there, looking far too hot in that robe for my own good.

He stops just a few feet away and I find myself breathing hard. He just stands there and stares. I don’t back down either. I keep my gaze steady but at one point it starts getting awkward.

“Are you planning to stare all day?” I ask, lifting my chin defiantly, my voice sharper than I intended.

A hint of a smile curves his lips. “You stared first.”

I open my mouth to argue, but the words die in my throat. I know where this is headed. Our bickering has morphed into our twisted version of foreplay. And judging by the raw hunger in his eyes, I know exactly what’s on his mind. It’s been almosttwenty-four hours since we last had sex, and the tension crackles between us.

As if he’s just read my mind, he advances, and instinctively, I backpedal. What the hell am I doing running? We both know we’ll end up in each other’s arms in ten seconds flat.

Maybe I love the way my heart races when he chases me. The same way chasing me turns him on. We are sick. But that knowledge doesn’t stop me from running.

I dart to the right and trip over my own feet, but he’s already there, an arm wrapping around my waist, yanking me against him. We stare into each other’s eyes for a few beats before he leans down and kisses me gently. My breath hitches when his lips trail down my throat, making me shiver.

Why do you do this to me, Damian? Just when I think I’m strong enough to resist, you touch me, and I’m yours all over again. Why does your warm, masculine scent drive me wild? Why does your citrusy aftershave make my head spin with need? Why does your touch reduce me to this molten mess?

He murmurs something roughly against my skin then scoops me in his arms. I watch him with hooded eyes as he carries me toward the four-poster bed—the same bed where I gave him my virginity.

He lays me down and leans back. I let my gaze trail over his chest, partially exposed as his robe gapes open.

It’s hard to breathe, even harder to resist the urge to explore his body. I can’t help myself; I reach up to touch him, but he catches me off guard, yanking my towel from my body. Then he sheds his robe.

My mouth goes dry as I take in his bare chest, drinking in the sight of his tanned skin and the dark curls that trace his powerful pecs.

A little dazed, I watch as he throws the covers over our naked bodies before arranging me onto my side and yanking me backagainst his hot, hard chest. A deep groan of satisfaction rumbles from him as he buries his face in my hair, trailing soft kisses along my neck.

Then… nothing.

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