ACCIDENTALLY MARRIED TO THE BILLIONAIRE SINGLE DAD (Gabrielle and Damon) novel Chapter 11

Chapter 11

GABRIELLE’S POV

The sun slipped through the curtains when I woke up. My body ached from all the tension of yesterday.

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After we got back from the cemetery, I spent the rest of the day crying in my room. It was a constant habit, especially with all my free time.

I pushed the sheets away and sat up, trying to shake off the thoughts of Damon’s stone–cold expression at the grave.

After showering, I went downstairs for coffee. The house was quiet except for faint music echoing from the back.

I followed the sound through the hallway until I reached a glass door that led to what looked like a gym.

Damon was there.

Sweat rolled down his bare chest as he lifted a set of weights like they were nothing. His muscles flexed under the light and his face was calm and focused.

I froze by the door, torn between walking away and pretending I didn’t notice how solid his abs were and hot his biceps looked.

He saw me through the reflection and set the dumbbells down. “You’re staring.”

“I wasn’t,” I said quickly. “I just didn’t know this room existed.”

“It’s a big house,” he said, reaching for a towel. He wiped his face, his tone careless. “You’ll get used to it.”

I crossed my arms. “You really don’t talk unless you’re giving orders, do you?”

He glanced at me. “Maybe I just don’t have anything nice to say.”

“You could try,” I said, watching him pick up a water bottle. “You know, for once, be civil.”

He drank, then set the bottle down slowly. “You’re in my gym, Gabrielle. I’m already being civil.”

My jaw tightened. “You’re rude.”

“And yet,” he said, turning toward me, “you keep showing up wherever I am.”

I opened my mouth, then closed it. “Don’t flatter yourself”

He took a step closer, and I caught a faint whiff of his cologne mixed with sweat. It did ridiculous things to my stomach

“Then why are you here?” he asked quietly. “Do you like what you see, wife?”

“I came for coffee,” I said, stepping back. “Not an interrogation.”

He studied me for a moment, his expression unreadable, then nodded toward the corner. “Kitchen’s that way”

I gave him a look, spun on my heel, and walked out before he could see the heat crawling up my neck.

–

But the image of him shirtless, quiet, and sweaty wouldn’t leave my head,

—

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12:59 pm

Chapter 11

And that irritated me more than anything.

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I was lying on the bed, legs crossed and half–buried under the duvet, reading a romance novel when the door swung open without a single knock.

I jumped. “Ever heard of privacy?”

Damon stood at the doorway, in his usual black shirt with the top button undone, looking like he owned the entire world and me included. “Come with me.”

I scoffed. “Like hell I am. I want a divorce and unless we’re going to your lawyer, I don’t feel like leaving the bed.”

His expression remained cold. “Have you been crying?” he asked, catching me off guard.

I pulled the duvet over my knees. “Why wouldn’t I? I’m trapped with a man who can’t even stand me. No wonder…” I trailed off, trying not to say too much.

I continued reading my book.

He stepped closer to the bed. “I know another way we could spend time together if you don’t feel like leaving the bed.”

I didn’t look up. “I’m not interested but thanks.”

Before I could read another line, the book was flung out of my hands and across the room.

“What the-”

He cut me off by removing the duvet over my knees and lying on top of me, spreading my knees with his legs.

He pinned my hands over my head with one hand and used the other to support his weight. My thighs snapped tight around his waist, betraying me.

“Just wait until I sue you for this,” I spat, hating my body for reacting that way.

His lips curled sinisterly. “But you can’t.”

“I can!”

“You can’t,” he said calmly and his voice dropped into a whisper. “I seem to remember you begging me to fuck you in the back of my limo.”

My throat ran dry. “I didn’t.”

“Don’t deny it, love,” he said, huskily. “I saw how you looked at me that night. How you peeked at me through for fingers the next morning. And how you salivated at the sight of me in the gyin.”

He rested his weight on his elbows and his free hand ran over my exposed thigh. My body arched at his touch and my breath turned shallow.

Traitor!

“That’s a lie,” I managed to speak.

He leaned down, his warm breath on my car as he whispered, “Oh, but it’s the truth. You begged me to take your virginity,

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2:59 pm

Chapter 11

Gabrielle.”

I tried to fight his touch.

I really did but my body kept betraying me. “No. I didn’t.”

His hand moved up my thigh and I couldn’t help but shudder at his touch.

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“You took off your clothes,” he whispered, his hot breath fanning my cheeks. “How else could I know of the birthmark so close you–know–where?”

My breath caught in my throat as his hand caressed the birthmark on my thigh so close to my core.

I should be trashing and fighting to get him off me but instead, my body was arching up to his touch.

‘How did you know that?”

‘You showed me,” he said, releasing my hands as he stared down at me with that intense gaze of his.

His face was so close to mine, I could see the faint stubble along his jaw, the rise and fall of his chest as he breathed.

He looked so painfully handsome. His scent wrapped around me, clean and expensive, like cedar and something darker.

My pulse wouldn’t slow down.

I hated that my skin burned everywhere he touched, hated that my body answered him before I could think.

‘Damon,” I warned, as his fingers caressed my birthmark under my dress again.

He tilted his head, studying me. “You keep saying my name like that,” he said quietly, “and I’ll think you want me to stay.”

Impulsively, my hand moved to touch him. He stiffened as my hand pushed on his chest gently. His expression turned into

frown, like he was disgusted.

He got off me suddenly.

I sat up, my heart thudding wildly. “What’s wrong?”

He stood at the edge of the bed, running a hand through his hair, his jaw clenched so tight I could see the muscle ticking.

“Nothing,” he said flatly, refusing to meet my eyes.

“Don’t lie,” I whispered, pulling the duvet over my shoulders. “You just looked at me like-”

“Like what?” he snapped, turning to me.

His eyes burned with something I couldn’t name. Anger or regret, I couldn’t tell Maybe both

“Like you regretted touching me,” I said softly.

For a second, his expression faltered, but then that familiar coldness returned. “You should get dressed, Gabrielle. Meet me in the car.”

Then he walked out.

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