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.

strength was nothing against his,

"Mmm, let go."

waist tightened, and through the thin fabric, Zoey

with heat, forgetting to

the time she came to her

remained impeccable, his large hand

it hard to breathe,

the scenery blurring like a swaying landscape painting,

more brazen, she wished she

into the

embarrassment.

on his

refusing to

SE

her shirt, igniting sparks

felt even weaker, a sheen

ease, his

stiffened, trembling sharply, collapsing completely in his

air, when she realized

couldn't believe

by immense shame, she

"Let go."

skilled, she couldn't keep up

even know where