I Slapped My Fiancé—Then Married His Billionaire Nemesis novel Chapter 375

**TITLE: The Attention 375**
**CONTENT: Chapter 375 Try Something New**

Ashton chuckled softly, a teasing glint in his eye as he cast a sidelong glance in my direction.

The sound of his laughter sent a flutter of nerves through me, and when he finally broke the silence, his voice dripped with mischief. “Are you sure you’re not trying to hint that I should be doing something?”

Flustered, I pushed against his chest, my cheeks warming. “I’m going to sleep. You can do whatever you want.”

His expression turned playful as he lifted the hand he was holding and pressed it to his lips, the warmth of his touch igniting a spark of embarrassment within me. I momentarily lost my train of thought, but then he lowered his gaze, a knowing smile spreading across his face. “Judging by that look in your eyes, I’d say you’re definitely hinting at something.”

“What look?” I asked, feigning innocence, though my heart raced at his words.

Leaning in closer until our foreheads touched, he whispered with a grin, “The look of someone who’s trying to undress me with their eyes.”

“Seriously, you’re ridiculous,” I muttered, pushing his head away playfully before yanking the blanket over my face, desperate to hide the heat radiating from my skin.

My heart pounded in my chest, quickening its rhythm as if it were trying to escape.

Ashton’s laughter rumbled low in his chest, a sound that reverberated through our bodies as we remained pressed together. The atmosphere felt charged, thick with his presence and the faint scent of his skin that lingered in the air. Each breath I took only served to quicken my pulse further.

I shut my eyes tightly, pretending to be asleep, even though it was a feeble act. The drowsiness I had felt moments earlier had completely vanished, replaced by a whirlwind of emotions.

After a few moments of watching my facade of sleep, Ashton relented and pulled me closer, wrapping his arms around me as if trying to contain the heat that simmered between us.

I let out a muffled sound, squirming against his embrace as his arm pressed me firmly against his chest. It became impossible to maintain my ruse now.

After a brief struggle, I found just enough air to breathe and shot him an irritated glare. “You’re suffocating me.”

“I can’t sleep,” he replied, his voice now rougher, his gaze dark and intense, sending a thrill through me that made my heart race.

“That’s your problem,” I shot back, trying to sound more assertive than I felt.

“Is it?” He took my hand and pressed it against him, his eyes holding mine. “You caused this.”

The moment I realized what I was touching, heat flooded my face, creeping all the way to my ears.

I glared at him, furious and embarrassed, attempting to pull my hand away, but he tightened his grip, pressing my palm back down against him.

“Don’t move,” he commanded, his voice low and hoarse, almost like a growl.

“Let go. Some of us are trying to sleep,” I snapped, though my tone lacked the firmness I had intended.

A dangerous glint sparked in his eyes as he spoke through clenched teeth, “I don’t think I want you to sleep.”

His gaze was dark, his body tense with a struggle between desire and restraint.

“You’re…” I began, torn between annoyance and guilt.

It had been weeks since we had last been intimate.

Still, I reminded him quietly, “You’re forgetting the babies.”

At the mention of our little ones, his demeanor shifted instantly. His body went rigid, and after a few seconds, he sighed and released me, rolling onto his back and staring at the ceiling.

“Are you all right?” I asked, my concern evident.

He turned to face me, resting his hand gently on my stomach, his touch delicate and almost reverent.

“They’d better hurry up and come out soon,” he murmured, a hint of longing in his voice.

“Hey, you’d better explain yourself first, or you’re not coming in,” I protested, my voice firm, though I knew it was futile.

Unfortunately, my threat had no effect on Ashton. In a matter of steps, he had crossed the threshold into the room and, with a swift flick of his foot, shut the door behind us.

An hour later, I lay on my back, utterly exhausted.

“Are your hands sore?” he asked, his voice lazy and content as he reached for my hand. He began to massage my fingers gently, a soothing gesture that eased some of the tension.

The warmth of his touch provided a momentary relief, but then I recalled exactly why my hands were sore in the first place.

I attempted to pull my hand back, but he tightened his grip. “Don’t move, unless you’d rather lose the use of your arms tomorrow.”

I shot him a glare, but it lacked the heat I intended.

After a brief internal battle, I surrendered to his touch. It wasn’t fair for me to be the only one suffering when he was the one who had caused it all. Accepting that logic made me feel slightly better.

As he continued to massage my hand, drowsiness began to settle over me. I half-opened my eyes and shot him a sidelong glance. “We’re not doing that again.”

“Didn’t you feel any pleasure at all?” he asked, his tone teasing.

“I was suffering, thank you very much,” I replied, my voice laced with mock indignation.

He chuckled softly, releasing one hand to take the other, continuing his ministrations. “A few more times and you’ll learn to enjoy it.”

“I’ll never enjoy it,” I insisted firmly, but then a realization struck me. I pushed myself up, staring at him in disbelief. “Wait, what do you mean by ‘a few more times’? You plan to do it again?”

His smirk confirmed it.