Page 38 of My Ruthless Husband

He arches an eyebrow. “You’re asking what I’m doing in my own house, with my own wife?”

“You know what I mean,” I grumble.

Instead of answering, this infuriating man takes off his black suit jacket, revealing his strong shoulders. The black shirt he’s wearing underneath hints at the hard contours of his physique.

“What are you doing?” I blush and avert my eyes, torn between ignoring and acknowledging his irresistible presence.

This man, my husband—the one I was, and still am, so crazy about—is my greatest weakness.

Why do I often find myself in a clash of desire against determination? A simple act of him shrugging out of his jacket turns me on. It has always been like this. My desire for him is undeniable. How can I feel this way even after what happened this morning?

He lashed out purposely because I witnessed something I shouldn’t have. His nightmare... it showed me that Damian isn’t as untouchable as he wants everyone to think.

I take a shuddering breath when I feel his fingers brushing my curl and tucking it behind my ear. My defenses begin to crumble when he trails his fingertips down along my jaw and then over the sensitive skin of my throat.

My heartbeat quickens. His touch holds an unspoken promise. An unspoken vow of carnal pleasure that only he can deliver. It’s a seductive invitation, a snippet of what’s awaiting if I surrender.

When his fingers trail over my collarbone, I swallow hard and my eyes fall shut.

An electric jolt surges through me as his breath grazes my ear. “All you have to do is ask, angel and I’ll have you crying out in pleasure, begging for more.”

The fog of desire dissipates as clarity takes hold. Jerking away, I stumble out of the bed.

“S-sorry.” I rub my neck, eyes lowered. What am I apologizing for, I have no idea, but I realize a bit too late that it was stupid of me to say it. I grimace.

He rises to his feet with a fluid grace. He is not affected in the slightest with that intense moment we shared.

He steps closer, his presence dwarfing mine. “Are you sorry for wanting me too much?” he murmurs huskily and my knees almost buckle.

“Didn’t you have an important meeting?” I say, desperate to ease the tension that is brewing between us again.

“I did.”

“What happened?”

He reaches out and tilts my chin. “I heard my wife needed me.”

My mouth falls open. That’s it. He heard about what happened earlier and came rushing back because of me?

“So you skipped your meeting because I demanded my phone?”

“I skipped it because you refused to eat.” He glares at me.

“You never jeopardized your work.”At least never for me.

He withdraws, his demeanor turning distant as he pushes his hands in his pockets. He regards me with a mocking gaze. “Maybe I am a changed man.”

“Forgive me if I don’t fall for the act this time.” When he merely studies me silently, I speak again, “I don’t care about your games anymore. Just give me my phone back.”

“Ah, yes. That reminds me,” He muses as he circles the room with a languid grace. “Why do you need it so bad? As far as I recall, you don’t have anyone to talk to.”

His words slice through me, leaving fresh wounds. Damian made sure I was truly alone after our wedding. He wasn’t satisfied that dad had cut ties with me. He wrenched me away from the few acquaintances I had, trapping me in this cage.

“I-I do have a friend.”

“The one who tried to hit you with a baseball bat?” He taunts.

“She was trying to save me!” I cry out. “Anyway, I don’t want to argue anymore. Give me my phone, I want to call Summer.”

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