Dear Ex-wife Marry Me by Twin Bridge

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.

was nothing against his, sinking without a

"Mmm, let go."

on her waist tightened, and through the thin fabric, Zoey could feel his warmth pressing

flamed with

her senses, she was straddling

impeccable, his large hand at her lower back, drawing

to

ten minutes, she surrendered, the scenery blurring like a swaying landscape painting, too drained to even think about the

hands becoming more brazen, she wished

into the

embarrassment.

his shoulder,

refusing to think her head

SE

shirt,

even weaker, a sheen of sweat

ease, his lips causing havoc at

trembling sharply, collapsing

air, when she realized what had

couldn't believe she

by immense shame, she

"Let go."

too skilled, she couldn't keep

where he learned