Lock You In My Heart novel Chapter 347

Westley was in a good mood, and he felt as though nothing could dampen his spirits. "Gabrielle, don't go back on your word. You promised me that you won't ever divorce me and you will never be with Bryce."

"What? When did I make such promise?"

Gabrielle's brows were drawn. She stared at him in shock.

She only promised not to be with Bryce, which was no big deal because she didn't like him anymore. Besides, Bryce wasn't fond of her either, so really, there wasn't any actual issue.

But divorce was an entirely different matter. She never said anything about staying married to Westley for the rest of their lives.

"Gabrielle, you promised me. Okay? I will hold onto that as long as I'm alive. Now let's stop talking about this and just continue to give me a good massage." Gabrielle was about to open her mouth to say something, but Westley waved at her dismissively. He didn't want to talk about this topic anymore because he didn't want to give her any chance to renege.

Gabrielle also wanted to drop the topic. She didn't even like uttering the word divorce, and it was Westley who opened up the idea if Nellie came back.

But now, times changed. It was Westley who forbade Gabrielle to divorce him. Gabriel was equal parts impressed and amused at how cunning and devious he was.

Then, fine. She wouldn't mention it. On top of that, Westley wasn't the kind of man who would break his promise. He already gave her his word; she was sure he would follow through.

Furthermore, he vowed to look for Bryce, so Gabrielle was confident Westley would do it. He was a man of honor.

"Gabrielle, can you add a little pressure?" Westley turned to her and requested.

Gabrielle mustered all her energy and used firmer strokes to break up his tight muscles. Admittedly, she was getting the hang of it. "Is this enough?"

There was no mistaking the anger in her tone. How could Westley not notice the shift in her mood? But he quite enjoyed it.

"Not bad. Go on." Westley was getting more and more comfortable. He shifted his body so Gabrielle could massage his sore spots. She was angry, and she put more strength than before in each stroke, but Westley wasn't bothered.

"Gabrielle, you can go all the way down. My waist feels sore." Westley's voice was muffled by the pillow, but he pointed the spot he wanted her to focus on.

Westley couldn't see her, but Gabrielle's face contorted with rage. With a clenched jaw and hostile glare at him, she was becoming increasingly irritated at the way he casually requested things. He really was treating her like his personal masseuse.

Gabrielle was so angry that she poured all her energy into kneading his waist. At the back of her mind, he was most likely going to end up with bruises tomorrow.

"Gabrielle, do you want to murder your husband? Or maybe do you want to deprive yourself of the chance to have sex with me? Why are you using too much pressure on my waist? Did that part of my body personally offend you?" Westley squirmed under her touch. He felt like his muscles were howling in pain. At the rate she was going, Westley knew he wouldn't be able to get up the next day.

This woman was scary and horrible when she was angry. Even if he couldn't see her face, he knew she was apoplectic with rage. She was taking it all out on him with her intense massaging.

Westley heard her huff, but she didn't lessen the pressure. Instead, she continued to press and knead until it became too painful for him.

"Westley, what nonsense are you talking about? I won't massage you if you keep on saying those things again!" Despite the way she snapped at him, Gabrielle felt her entire body flush at his words. She bit her lip and focused on her current task.

Westley was always talking nonsense. 'What was it he said? That I was killing my own husband and depriving myself of the chance to have sex with him? What's wrong with this guy?'

"Am I wrong, though? I'm your husband. You're mistreating me like this. If I die from the pain, it will be murder. If not, then what do you call it?" Westley kept talking to defend himself in dead earnest.

Gabrielle almost forgot that this man was Westley. He was good at arguing and manipulating. He had never lost in any negotiation—whether it was in his personal life or at work. Gabrielle calmed herself. She shouldn't quarrel with him because she was only going to lose.

"Where else do you want me to massage?" Gabrielle's voice became softer and gentler. She wasn't going to lose her temper because she would end up paying for it dearly.

"My leg," Westley demanded casually as if it was natural for him to ask his wife to do it for him.

'Fine. Then, I'll massage your leg.'

Gabrielle went on with her massage, biting back her burning anger.

Westley had been exercising for a long time, so the muscles of his legs were toned and had definition. Unlike his back and waist, Westley's leg muscles were so hard

that Gabrielle's hands became a little painful.

"Westley, your legs are too hard. Is the pressure okay?" Gabrielle's face darkened. She might as well have been massaging a brick.