Dear Ex-wife Marry Me

Fitch's pupils contracted sharply, his breathing uneven.

Zoey, on the other hand, looked on with longing. "I really want to go in there. It feels like something is calling me."

Fitch remained silent.

Zoey reached for the car door, intent on seeing for herself.

Suddenly, her wrist was grasped firmly, and Fitch pulled her into his embrace.

The assistant in the front had wisely raised the divider, leaving them in their own private space in the back.

Held tightly in his arms, Zoey wasn't sure if it was her imagination, but she felt him trembling with fear.

But who was Fitch? The true scion of the Greenfield dynasty, sitting atop a vast fortune. How could he ever feel fear?

"Don't go," he uttered, holding her close.

Zoey didn't know what to say, forgetting even to struggle.

She couldn't understand Fitch's reaction, her hand resting lightly on his shoulder.

Fitch suddenly looked up, pressing her down.

His lips quickly found hers.

Zoey's eyes widened, pushing against him weakly.

But her strength was nothing against his, sinking without a trace.

"Mmm, let go."

Fitch's grip on her waist tightened, and through the thin fabric, Zoey could feel his warmth pressing against her, intense.

Her cheeks flamed with heat, forgetting to react.

By the time she came to her senses, she was straddling his waist.

His clothing remained impeccable, his large hand at her lower back, drawing them closer.

Zoey found it hard to breathe, her lips conquered.

In less than ten minutes, she surrendered, the scenery blurring like a swaying landscape painting, too drained to even think about the building she had wanted to see. "Stop, please."

Feeling his hands becoming more brazen, she wished she could

disappear into the ground frobelnet

embarrassment.

Her chin rested on his shoulder, her body limp.

The pressing heat became more mind refusing to think her head buried, ostrick-like, to

SE

Fitch's hand slipped under her shirt, igniting sparks on her skin.

Zoey felt even weaker, a sheen of sweat on her forehead.

He seemed utterly at ease, his lips causing havoc at her earlobe.

Zoey stiffened, trembling sharply, collapsing completely in his arms.

Gasping for air, when she realized what had happened, shame overwhelmed her.

She couldn't believe she had...

Overwhelmed by immense shame, she began to struggle.

"Let go."

Fitch was too skilled, she couldn't keep up with him.

She didn't even know where he learned such techniques.

She was no match for him; in his presence, she was utterly vulnerable.

"Stop

with restraint, his hand gently

pang," his voice was heavy

her back, "It's okay.

〃

t belongs to en.sot

Zoey felt like crying, her body betraying her at the slightest provocation.

It was... it was so embarrassing!

Fitch pecked her cheek, "Still want to go inside?"

She had no strength to even consider it, her lips sealed shut.

He then pressed her closer to his chest, "Let's go watch the fireworks then."

She didn't respond, limp in his embrace.

His scent was comforting, his hand still gently patting her back, lulling her towards sleep.Text © 2024 NôvelDrama.Org.