Page 35 of Her Possessive Dominant Fake Husband

I felt his weight go before my vision returned. The bathroom door closed and locked behind him as the room came back into focus. I half sat up, staring after him, every inch of mybody still tingling, the air cooling on my skin, and the last few minutes replayed in my head like a fever dream.

Had I really just…?

Had he really just…?

Was I still…?

The heat faded, leaving a chill in its wake.

My first time doing something like this, and he’d bolted like I’d burned him.

The sting of disappointment pierced through the fog of leftover desire, and my heart squeezes so tight tears prickled in my eyes.

I sat up, hugging my knees to my chest confusion and hurt battling for space in my mind, but the one thing I couldn’t ignore was how good it had been.

How right it had felt.

How wrong it was that he’d walked away.

A thousand questions burned through me, each one more consuming than the last.

But the most painful question of all was the one I didn’t have the courage to ask.

Did it mean anything to him?

Did I?

Chapter Ten

Alexander

I wanted to slam the bathroom door behind me, to splinter the frame, but I didn’t want to scare her.

My hands shook as I braced myself against the sink, breath coming in uneven, jagged gasps. Hating the weakness, I gripped the edge of the sink until my knuckles turned white and weren’t trembling anymore. The mirror reflected the fury I barely contained—lips parted, jaw clenched, eyes dark with the kind of anger that begged for destruction. I wanted to break something. Needed to break something.

The towel rack. The mirror.Myself.

I could send my fist through the glass, watch it shatter, hear it crack under the weight of everything I couldn’t say, everything I couldn’t fix.

But Claire was just outside.

I gritted my teeth, squeezing my eyes shut, trying to will the chaos out of me. It didn’t work.

This wasn’t supposed to happen.

I had been in control—of the deal, of my life, of every damn thing that mattered.

But the second she melted into me, I lost my head.

Now, my restraint had disappeared faster than my conscience at a corporate buyout.

And I couldn’t think about anything except her body melting against mine, her offering herself to me, sweet, unguarded, feeling safe in my arms as if I’m not the one thing with the power to destroy her.

I let go of the sink and leaned against the wall. Why did I stop? Why did I hold back?

Her lips had been willing, her skin warm beneath my touch, I could feel her damp and ready through her pants, even.

Hell, she’d been as lost in it as I was, her innocence an intoxicating drug that lingered on my fingertip. And when I’d finally pulled away, it felt like cutting off air, leaving me suffocating. Walking away had been the hardest thing I'd done in years.

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