I Walked Away And He Lost His Mind (Zephyra and Steven) novel Chapter 329

He pulled back slightly, his gaze locked on me—dark, intense, and filled with a raw desire. The muscles in his throat worked as he swallowed. “I never claimed to be a saint,” he said, his voice husky. “Is it so strange that I’m turned on by you?”

“We’re divorced!”

“We’re divorced, not castrated. And I haven’t forced you into anything. Am I not allowed to have a reaction?”

I was speechless. Men were such pigs. He had been the same in our past life. Before we were intimate, he was like an untouchable ice prince, cold and distant. But after, the slightest provocation—or sometimes no provocation at all—was enough to set him off and have him dragging me to bed.

I gritted my teeth. “Get off of me.”

To my surprise, he complied, even taking the time to replace the damp cloth on my forehead with a fresh one.

“A slap for a kiss,” he said coolly. “You slapped me twice this morning. That kiss was payback. You still owe me one.”

I coughed violently, glaring at him in disbelief. “Are you shameless? Didn’t you just kiss me twice?”

A ghost of a smile played on his lips. “I want a real kiss, not a peck on the lips. If you don’t want me to kiss you, you should think twice before you slap me next time.”

“…”

I felt my fever spike. “Have you considered seeing a doctor? For your head? Or maybe a therapist?” I coughed again. “I seriously think there’s something wrong with you. You have no morals, no boundaries. Who gave you permission to sneak into your ex-wife’s room in the middle of the night? Who said you could kiss me? Who agreed to your insane slap-for-a-kiss rule? Did I not hit you hard enough this morning?”

As he continued his shameless pursuit, a strange, powerful delusion began to form in my mind—it was as if we had never gotten divorced at all.

His attitude wasn’t that of an ex-husband. It was more like he was placating a pouting wife. And perhaps because we had slept together before the divorce, he was now even more brazen, more relentless than he had been during our marriage.

This was not what I wanted. If being divorced was no different from being married, what was the point?

Steven simply raised an eyebrow, ignoring my tirade. He refilled the glass with warm water and held it to my lips. “Drink.”

I turned my head away.

“If you don’t drink,” he threatened calmly, “I’ll make you. You know I will.”

“I have the flu,” I rasped, coughing. “If you do that, you’ll get sick too. And trust me, you don’t want this.”

“Scum.”

If he dared to force himself on me, I would scream. I would sooner die of exposure outside this hotel than let him get away with it. I would make sure everyone knew.

Steven’s expression was unreadable. “Even if you wanted to, I wouldn’t give it to you,” he said mockingly. “The porridge is the perfect temperature. Eat a few bites, take your medicine, and then you can sleep.”

I was too exhausted to fight anymore.

I sat up and forced down a few spoonfuls, not even finishing a quarter of the bowl. Under his stern gaze, I took the medicine and lay back down.

Before I drifted off, I managed one last warning. “When you’re done with your power trip, get out. Don’t bother me again. Don’t make me get up and hit you.”

This time, Steven was quiet. He replaced the cloth on my forehead with a cooling patch and then fell silent.

But just before I fell completely asleep, I thought I heard him whisper, his voice a strange mix of confusion and jealousy.

“You seem to hate me. But shouldn’t I be the one who hates you? You’ve long forgotten your promise to me, remembering only that pretty boy, Horace…”