Page 41 of My Ruthless Husband

“Why are you doing this to me, Damian? You… this—”

“I don’t have time for this,” he cuts me off, his tone cold and final. “If you want your phone, you’ll finish your meal.”

I don’t look up as I lift the spoon again with trembling fingers.

My cheeks feel wet and with horror, I realize that I’m crying. I swipe at my eyes with the back of my hand, but they keep falling. “I-I’m sorry,” I choke out between sniffles.

“I’ll finish my meal, as you ordered.” The tears blur my vision, making him a hazy shape. “I just want to…” My words are broken by my sobs. “I-I just want my p-phone—” I gasp when I’m suddenly hauled up from my seat.

My eyes lock with dark ones as Damian looms over me, his hands gripping my upper arms tightly. I struggle against him, tears pouring down my face. He curses under his breath, pulling me against his chest, his arms locking around my back.

Sobbing, my face buried in his shirt, I choke out, “What have I ever done to you to make you hate me so much?”

He keeps holding me as I sob against him, my body shaking with every breath. His hands stroke my back, almost soothingly, as if trying to calm the storm of emotions swirling within me.

After a while, my cries quiet, and I pull away slightly. I stare at his chin rather than his eyes. “L-let me go,” I mumble weakly.

“Look at me,” he growls. When I don’t comply, he tilts my chin up, forcing me to meet his gaze. “Stop crying.”

“Now I’m not even allowed to cry—”

He takes my mouth, forcing my head back in a kiss so brutal it takes me by surprise. Yet in spite of all the hurtful things he said, my body responds, shivering under his touch.

I whimper and he lifts his head. He stares at me for a second before kissing me again. His free hand tightens in my curls, making my lips part on a gasp. He spears his tongue between my lips and I moan, remembering his taste, consumed by the feel of his tongue as it rubs against mine. A low guttural groan emanates from deep within his core as he draws me even closer to him. I shiver when my achy breasts rub against his chest.

The surprising tug of desire distracts me and I break the kiss to stare up at him with tears still clinging my lashes. My chest rises and falls rapidly, my breath coming in short gasps as I ask, “W-what are you doing?”

He leans down and brushes his lips against mine. “What does it look like?”

“I don’t get you,” I whisper, my breath shaky. “One second you’re tearing me apart, and the next, you’re kissing me like you can’t get enough of me.”

“It’s true. I can’t get enough of you.”

I shake my head.

“I want you,” he says, his voice low. “It doesn’t matter if we’re fighting or arguing. I’ll always want you. I’ll always want my wife.”

Those words. They hit me right in the chest. “I may still love you, Damian but I won’t let myself be close to you like this again. Ever.”

“Is that what you truly want?” he murmurs, gliding his hand down my side until it grabs my hip. That one touch makes my whole body tremble and Damian catches it with a satisfaction gleam in his eyes.

“Yes,” I breathe as he begins to lower his mouth to mine. The slow and deliberate move makes me wetter, the fabric of my panties clinging to my drenched pussy.

“Yes?” He taunts. “Yes what?” His mouth lands on mine, not giving me a chance to answer. When he presses his erection against me, my body betrays me, melting into him despite myself.

My hand wraps around his neck, whimpering as our tongues tangle again.

Even through the blur of passion, a thought pesters me. How can I find solace in the arms of the man who caused me so much pain?

But no matter how twisted our circumstances may be, one thing is crystal clear. I am not the only one in this. This passion, this madness is mutual.

He walks me backward, and my back collides with the chair. He breaks the kiss for a moment, shoving the chair out of the way. The chair scrapes loudly across the floor, tipping over, and the sound startles me. I quickly glance around, exhaling in relief when I realize we’re completely alone in the dining room.

I jump at the loud crash of cutlery and watch with wide eyes as Damian’s hand sweeps out the remaining things on the table before lifting and setting me on it.

I grab his shoulders for balance, my thighs parting on their own for him to step between them. I fist my hands in his shirt, tugging him to me, tilting my head up more fully toward his in an open invitation. He doesn’t hesitate to take what I’m offering on a silver platter. He takes my mouth again.

With a helpless groan, I kiss him back passionately, my arms twines around his neck, clinging to him. When my legs wrap around his waist, pulling him tighter to me, a deep throated sound of triumph breaks from him and unfurls over my lips.

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