My Coldhearted Ex demands a Remarriage by Eva Blackwood

Chapter 241 Elizabeth knew that resisting now would only appear overly theatrical.

Elizabeth’s voice was scarcely a murmur as she spoke, “Darling,” the word tinged with a shy vulnerability.

She had uttered it countless times before—sometimes with sincerity, sometimes as part of a carefully rehearsed act.

Yet never had the word sounded so tender, so hauntingly beautiful, as it did at that moment.

He gazed down at her radiant face, droplets of water trickling from her damp hair to her temple.

In her eyes, gleaming with emotion, he saw his own reflection.

The room was steeped in silence, broken only by the soft rhythm of their uneven breaths and the pounding of their hearts.

Elijah knew with certainty—this yearning wasn’t caused by the drug.

The trace of aphrodisiac in the drinks had been negligible to him, scarcely worth a second consideration.

He recalled a far darker time, ambushed during a business trip abroad, where he’d been subjected to interrogation-grade substances potent enough to nearly shatter him.

For seven grueling hours, he had endured, using a knife to carve into his thigh, the pain his only tether to consciousness.

That unyielding resolve had secured him a position in foreign markets, earning him both respect and fear from corporate giants and shadowed underworld figures alike.

His eyes smoldered as they met hers, his voice dropping to a low, passionate pitch.

“Do you know who I am?”

“You’re Elijah,” Elizabeth murmured, her voice trembling, thick with unspoken desire.

“My husband.”

unbearable and all-consuming, and he was the only solace she

surge

knew this closeness

him, just as it could only ever

her forehead, his touch lingering as he traced the curve of her cheek,

kiss was deeper, urgent, as though he sought to

soft, involuntary moan slipping past

the delicate fabric away, lifting her leg as he finally joined

pierced through her, and a cry escaped

hers, silencing her cries with the tenderness of his

his tenderness, touched something deep within

she wrapped her arms around his

last remnants of his

thickened with heat and desire as their bodies

his movements frantic, as though he were tasting

was intoxicated by the pleasure,

there, exhausted and yielding, letting him take

in and out of sleep, she felt herself spiraling toward climax

glowed with the soft

was gone, but the air still hummed with the

room, however, had been meticulously

still morning, and tried to pull

voice

“Dinner’s ready.

a shower, and

bathroom, his bathrobe hanging loosely,