Page 253 of Falling for the Wife

His manner seemed downright disrespectful, his voice laced with sarcasm and suspicion, like I was highly contaminated, and whatever I did or say wouldn’t redeem me in his eyes. It was all there, blatantly written on his scornful albeit handsome face. His eyes felt like they were skinning me raw, as if he was taking me apart, piece by piece so I would be defenseless and cower like I was supposed to have done after he had disdainfully treated me like I was some cheap tart.

One would expect I would be numb from it all. Needless to say, his evident contempt simply magnified the ache that was gutting me alive.

“I just barely found out …” I trailed off, feeling parched due to the fact that I couldn’t seem to cohesively think when he was giving me an intense expression, as if deep in thought. Licking my lips, I started to take a small gasp of air to loosen the tightened feeling around my chest. I felt as if he was suffocating me by merely existing. “Ashton … Uh, Ashton flew in this morning and told me about it. Then I immediately came here to confront you.”

His eyes became slits, piecing together the puzzle that was my life. “Ahhhh, did he now…?” He gave a nod before making a “tsk-tsking” sound that reminded me of an adult being disapproving of a child. “The mighty husband is here to save the day,” he murmured with utter derision. “Does he know that his beautiful, loving bride was fucking around with another man’s dick?” Taunting, he slowly made his way out, circling around his desk before half-sitting on it, arms folded and his face exhibiting great disappointment. “Marital bliss, is it all that it’s cracked up to be, Ava?”

His mockery of me was reaching my capacity. As much as I had previously endured his maltreatment, I was now endangered of snapping my overburdened patience. “Maybe you should try it yourself,Reiss,since you seem so curious about it.” It was the first time I had used his real name, and I must say that saying it aloud made me feel all the more nostalgic about the past.

He shrugged. “Marriage … I just might. If therightwoman comes along, then why not?”

Lovely. Just what I needed to hear—not.

“If you’re done throwing daggers and making a mockery out of my miserable life, can we move along? I still have a lot of questions to ask of you.”

“Why, Ava? Did one of the daggers finally manage to prick your fine porcelain skin?”

Nostrils flaring, I threw my hands in the air. “You know what? I can’t bloody deal with your childish need for revenge because I have far more important things to do than listen to you rambling and spouting blasted bloody nuisance about clear pettiness and small victories.”

“You have far more important things to do,” he murmured, thinking out loud just as he made a big nod, as if the light had just turned on in his brilliant mind.

“I bloody do!” I sounded just as I truly felt, depleted after being completely, emotionally objectified by this loathsome rat.

He appeared confused, as though he couldn’t wrap his puny brain around it. “Like what?”

I wanted to hurl my purse at the blasted jerk. “You ought to be joking, surely?”

He shrugged, unperturbed. “You’re a bored housewife, and your husband just flew in to see you.” He was deep in thought. “Funny, ‘cause I have this hunch that this wasn’t a coincidence. Don’t tell me you told your loving husband that you let another man shag you senseless while he called you his whore?”

Thatcompletely broke the little patience I had left.

Like a rocket, my body shot towards him, aiming for his cheek and gloriously connecting with my palm. “I am no one’s whore, not Ashton’s and surely not yours—neveryours.”

His eyes clouded with barely any of his emerald greens showing as they thunderously sliced me in to two while he brought his face a hairsbreadth away from my own. “Vicious, aren’t we today, Ava? Why so catty when I’m only speaking the truth?” he sneered as he took my breath away. “Is your memory faulty? Because, from what I can recall, you kept screaming into my ear that, in fact, you are mine to do as I please, that no man has ever made you feel the way I do when I fuck you. You sobbed the words into my ears as you begged me to come inside of you. Don’t you remember any of that?”

Images of us naked shifted my focus. Did I really say any of that? Maybe, maybe not. I mean, I was so out of it I could have prayed in French, and I wouldn’t have noticed. Confused, my rebuttal was lost as the picture of us rutting together wreaked havoc on my already confused way of thinking.

“You look lost, love. My cock must’ve done quite a splendid job, eh?” His eyes sparkled as he brazenly cupped my breast with his right hand. “If you came here for a repeat, I could grant you that wish.” The sensation he was making was muddying my common sense while his other hand reached down to gently rub my pussy with his fingers against the soft fabric of my jeans. “So sensual … so beautiful … especially when aroused.” His eyes lingered on my face, almost cherishing it. Almost. “Your body begs for my touch. It’s hungry for it.”

He was so wrong yet so bloody right about me always being hungry for him. I hated how he could mesmerize me without effort. Even though I had protested before, my body was eternally enslaved to him, much to my disdain.

“Tell me what you want,” he rasped out, hungry eyes adamant to devour me. “Do you want my cock to fuck you mad, princess?”

Princess, it was his terms of endearment for me, and the first time he had said it since we had met again after a decade.

When nostalgia hit you, it hit like it was hounding you to the grave. There was no escaping it.

CHAPTER89

Ava

I washis and I acknowledged this with heartfelt concern, seeing as the man in question had inevitably changed from the sweet, loving guy I once had known to a man who had a heart of stone. With his persistence of wanting me to submit to him, it would’ve been easy to just throw caution to the wind and succumb to what my body had been longing. I knew I must resist, though, at least in respect of Ashton being in England.

I must fight his charms until divorce proceedings were initiated.

“Ashton’s here—I can’t … I’m sorry,” I regrettably rejected his advances, knowing it would truly disrespect Ashton and what I had vowed to protect. It was hypocritical of me to even contend such notions, but one sin committed was enough to weigh heavily on my shoulders while negotiating for my freedom.

My husband, knowing him well enough, wouldn’t easily let this go. He’d fight for me—I knew he would. He was simply wired that way. Even back then, when he learned I had taken another man and had given him a gift that was meant for him, he hadn’t batted an eyelash before telling me we were still meant for each other. I highly doubted his reaction would be any different than it had been a decade ago.