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.

nothing against

"Mmm, let go."

tightened, and through the thin fabric,

with heat, forgetting to

time she came to her senses, she was

remained impeccable, his large hand at her lower back, drawing

hard to breathe, her

landscape painting, too drained to even think about the building she

becoming more

into the

embarrassment.

chin rested on his shoulder,

became more mind refusing to think her

SE

slipped under her shirt,

sheen of sweat on her

ease, his lips causing

collapsing completely in

for air, when she realized what had

believe she

immense shame, she began to

"Let go."

was too skilled, she couldn't keep up with

even know where