The Perfect Wife's Perfect Revenge

Chapter 639

"Are you tired?"

He pressed a gentle kiss to her forehead, as if cherishing her.

Gwyneth felt herself melt at his tenderness, her heart turning to utter softness.

"I'll do all the work later, don't worry."

The words made Gwyneth bury her face in his chest, mortified. Even though she knew no one could overhear them, and even if the staff did, they'd pretend not to, she still wished she could dig a hole in the floor and disappear.

And it was broad daylight, too. Saying something like that-she'd never be able to look anyone in the eye again.

Hawthorne looked down at her, amused by her bashfulness, his laughter shaking his whole frame.

From her vantage point, Gwyneth could see the line of Hawthorne's throat, the strong curve of his jaw, the lowered lashes, his sharp nose, and those distractingly sensual lips.

She pressed her ear to his chest, listening to the steady rhythm of his heartbeat- like a metronome. As they drew closer to the upstairs bedroom, she could feel his pulse quicken.

and embarrassment

down gently on the bed. Gwyneth rolled toward the center, cocooning

later, she heard water running in the bathroom and assumed Hawthorne was taking a shower. She cautiously peeked out from under the comforter-only to meet

midnight, impossibly deep, and the sight startled her. She stammered, "You-you

ask if

scooped her out from under

Hawthorne wasn't as tireless as usual. He could

three hours, he stopped, simply holding her and quietly

before-not even experienced so much as a secret

had left his life singularly focused on restoring the

should have been

was interested in

ruthless struggle had farsoft

as a teenager, cleaning up the mess. Years

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