His Unwanted Wife: The Genius Designer's Return

Dicks

f the long dining table, rubbing my right wrist as a dull ach

straighten the silver cutlery

avy hands crossing midnight and turning my solo preparatio

gulped it down, letting the burning alcohol slide into my stomach to numb the

ped, and my fingers tightened around the empty g

red-billion-dollar sports empire, pushed the door open, carrying the freezing chill of the Madison

king straight to the marble bar while his long fingers yanked his silk

arstool, and walked toward him, my high h

head as his deep blue-gray eyes

is Mrs. Dickerso

er, freezing me from head to toe, yet I forced a flat s

ing me to tilt my chin up as the sharp scent of his a

ightly across his stiff lapel, feeling the h

t with bone-crushing force, his vo

drunk,

't pull back, meeting his sharp gla

sary, shouldn't we do w

pple bobbing as his grip on my wrist

and threw both arms around his broad shoulders

e me away, only to freeze mid-air the second his pa

th ghost across his sharp jawline while the

d the back of my head, dark fir

ked for

zing marble bar counter, the chill biting into my sp

a punishing, relentless kiss, stea

down my cheek, my fingers clutching his dres

ng onto the carpet just as his muscular arm scooped

me down on top of me before I could even s

e stitched scar from an old hockey skate beneath hi

mouth, though my fingers sank into

let out a cold laugh before his large

d I bit my lower lip hard to choke ba

llarbone, leaving a dark red mark before burying hi

ndow, illuminating the cold, detached lust on his

on dragged on until he finally rolled off me

listening to his breathing slow into deep slee

feet on the freezing hardwood floor and walked into

attered frame and pulled a brown kraf

ng down at the man who was my husband only on paper, ready to use