Chapter 10
He went silent.
His eyebrows knit together as if I’d just spoken in a foreign language.
Even with the AC blasting, I was burning up from the inside out. I kicked off the
sheets.
30%
“Nathan, are you really clueless or just pretending?” I demanded, my voice huskier
than I intended.
“Know… what?” he stammered, his eyes darting down to my chest before snapping
back to my face.
Huh.
Those pants weren’t coming off.
And that devotion was definitely an act.
I asked him point–blank: “Have you ever truly liked me?”
All this time, I’d been the one trailing after him, desperately trying to get his
attention like some lovesick teenager.
I remembered the day we got our marriage license at City Hall. I thought we were both equally invested. In the Instagram photos I posted that day, he smiled so happily, his arm around my waist.
Bathed in Manhattan sunlight, it seemed like our future would be brilliant.
“I love you, Alex.” He held me tight against his chest, his voice low and intense. The same Tom Ford shower gel scent finally mingled between us, and I lost myself
in the moment.
The frustration that had built up in my heart for six months poured out as I angrily pushed him away:
“Then why won’t you touch me?”
“We’re husband and wife, but you make me feel like your dirty little secret. I
shouldn’t need to pick a special occasion just to sleep with my own husband. And even then, you always reject me.”
As I spoke, tears began streaming down my face, ruining my carefully applied nighttime skincare routine.
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After that drunken night when he’d rejected me again, I’d sworn not to shed another tear for love, only for money.
Yet here I was, crying over Nathan Gray again.
“Get out. I don’t want to see you.”
I turned away, irritably beginning to unbutton my pajama top. Maybe a cold shower would clear my head.
ี 30%
Nathan finally seemed to realize something was wrong with me. His clinical gaze swept over me.
“Did you drink the chicken soup Mom gave you tonight?”
How would I know? It tasted good, so I drank it. I nodded vaguely.
He pressed his cool hand to my forehead to check my temperature, his voice
urgent yet with a hint of something darker, hungrier.
“Alex, do you need to go to the hospital, or do you want me to help you?”
Despite his question sounding medical, his fingers had already slipped beneath my collar, tracing my collarbone with shocking intimacy.
I forgot to blink, my tear–filled eyes wide with surprise.
Tears fell in fat drops as his hand slid lower.
I’m still not sure exactly how we ended up tangled in the sheets together.
All I know is that one moment we were arguing, and the next I was floating on
cloud nine, my body on fire.
Nathan’s surgeon hands—those long, skilled fingers I’d fantasized about for months–moved with expert precision, setting off earthquakes inside me. I’d joked before about what those hands could do besides holding a scalpel.
Now I had my answer. Holy shit, did I have my answer.
He played my body like á virtuoso, finding spots I didn’t even know existed. Each touch sent electric currents racing through me, making me arch and gasp for
more.
“Nathan,” I moaned, digging my nails into his back as he did something particularly wicked with those fingers.
During one particularly intense moment, as I was riding waves of pleasure, he
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explained why he’d kept his distance all these months.
30%
“Emma mentioned you didn’t want kids,” he panted against my neck, his hips never slowing their rhythm. “Condoms aren’t 100% effective, so I scheduled a vasectomy a while back. Just got the appointment two months ago. I was going to
surprise you.”
He thrust deeper, making me see stars. “I was about to tell you when you suddenly wanted a divorce. Never got the chance to give you the good news.”
“If you’d told me earlier you wanted me to take care of you like this,” he growled, his voice dropping an octave as his movements became more intense, “I would
have shown you exactly how much I want you…”
The next second, my eyes widened in shock as his hand moved with new purpose. “Are you crazy?” I gasped, grabbing his wrist.
“Just three fingers,” he whispered with a devilish smile. “Trust me, you can take it.” A moment later, he guided my hand downward with a husky whisper: “Your turn to
touch me.”
Wait, what?
My mind was foggy with pleasure, but he gently guided my hand where he wanted
- it.
When my fingers trembled, he tightened his grip over mine, showing me exactly
what he liked.
“That’s it,” he encouraged, his voice rough with desire. “Gotta hold it firm, baby. Just like that.”
