Page 36 of Her Possessive Dominant Fake Husband

Yet here I was, doing the impossible. Trying to shut it down, freeze it over. Control meant distance. Distance meant keeping my sanity intact. I knew she was waiting, watching for any sign from me, any crack in the ice. But I couldn't let her see it. I couldn’t let her think this meant anything more than what it was—a temporary lapse. A mistake I wouldn't make again. For her sake.

I was ruthless in my determination with one last glare at myself before I left the bathroom.

I kept my gaze fixed above her head, refusing to let it drift—to her mouth, to the way her fingers curled, hesitant, like she wanted to reach for me but knew better.

Instead of returning to our room—to the bed we had shared since the day we got married—I walked past it, past her,and down the sprawling hallway to the guest bedroom. The door clicked shut behind me.

Sleeping apart wasn’t what we agreed to. But I hadn’t accounted for this when I wrote the contract.

I sank onto the edge of the unfamiliar bed, staring at the walls that weren’t mine, the space that had never been mine. And still—it felt right. Cold. Empty. Exactly what I deserved.

I needed to take back control. To stick to the agreement I’d made. I needed to stand strong, for her sake. At least, that’s what I kept telling myself.

The fact that she was… innocent… I hadn’t planned on that, and I was already regretting giving into it. But her goddamn sweetness wasn’t making her easy to avoid. Not even close. My hands clenched into fists as I forced my mind off the last time I'd touched her and onto anything else.

A soft sound had me pausing, wondering if I’d heard anything at all. Then it came again.

I made my way to the door and pulled it open.

And there stood Claire. Sweet, selfless, impossible Claire, standing in the doorway with her eyes locked on me. Her voice broke through my defenses like a shot, sharp and determined. “Are you going to pretend nothing happened?”

I froze. The words I needed—the lies that would make this easier—they refused to come. My silence told her everything I didn’t want to admit.

Her eyes narrowed, catching the hesitation I hadn’t covered quickly enough. I leaned in the doorframe, and she poked a fingertip into my chest. Every word she spoke burned like a brand. “Why did you stop?”

Because I was a coward. Because if I didn’t, there would be no stopping. Because I didn’t want to hurt her. Because of the contract.

She crossed her arms, her voice cracking with frustration when I still said nothing. “So, you’re going to sleep in here?”

I nodded, trying to hold back anger – not at her, at myself for this needing to be necessary. “Yes. Because it’s safer,” I said. “For both of us.”

She didn’t back away. Didn’t flinch. Just watched me with those wide eyes that saw everything, even what I refused to say. “That’s not good enough, Alexander.”

The sound of my name in her mouth sent a jolt through me, a painful reminder of what my name sounded like while she was in the thick of passion.

I looked away, trying to ignore the way her body radiated warmth in my cold room. Her nearness stripped away every layer of pretense. I wanted her. God, I wanted her more than I had ever wanted anything or anyone.

I couldn't have her.

"You can’t avoid me forever,” she said.

It wasn’t an accusation. It was a challenge. Her defiance drove me past reason, past restraint. "You’re too innocent,” I said, my voice laced with more bitterness than I’d intended. “I don’t want that, don’t want you.” The words tasted like bile, and I wished I could take them back, wished I’d found a way to keep it together instead of saying the one thing I knew would hurt her most.

Claire’s expression shifted, not in shock but in anger, her cheeks flushing with heat. She gave me a look that told me she knew better. Then, with one last exhale, she turned and walkedaway. She didn’t slam the door, didn’t shout or cry. Her silence was more devastating than anything she could have said.

And as I watched her disappear down the hallway, I was the one left broken.

Over the next few days, avoidance became the pattern. Reminders of Claire were everywhere, in every part of the house.

I stayed in the office for long hours after work, hoping time would freeze her out. Instead, every time we crossed paths, the ice seemed thinner, the cold dissipating faster than I could replenish it. Every look she gave me was a reminder of how it felt to have her close, how she made me feel.

The only thing I was certain of, was that I missed her.

Back at the house, Claire’s presence was unavoidable. Her movements sharper, more deliberate than before, every step drawing attention, making me feel the tension snapping between us like an exposed wire in a pool.

I told myself it was only temporary. That I would adjust. But every time she stepped into view, I found my pulse racing, found the things I told myself sounding more like lies.

She didn’t demand, didn’t push. But her silence and proximity were more effective. I caught many looks that lingered too long. Soft breaths when I was near. Her reaction to me seemed as charged as the night I’d screwed everything up.

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