No More Mrs. Nice Wife (Eleanor) novel Chapter 1536

Ian pulled her roughly into his arms, caging her securely against his chest.

Eleanor stiffened slightly in his embrace. Above her, the man's voice rang out with absolute certainty. "Even if we hadn't met that summer, I know I still would have fallen for you."

Stunned, she looked up, crashing straight into his gaze. She saw the unconcealed sincerity and almost obsessive conviction burning in his eyes.

"How can you be so sure?" she couldn't help but ask.

He didn't answer immediately. Pulling back just an inch, his voice dropped to a smooth, resonant timbre. "You have this light about you. A drive that completely draws me in. Even if I hadn't met you that summer, I would have found you at some medical event. And then... I would have pursued you, invested in you, and made damn sure you noticed me."

Ian's words echoed in the quiet living room, sounding like a predestined vow.

His fingertips gently brushed a strand of hair behind her ear, his touch agonizingly tender. "No matter what timeline, no matter how we met, you would have pulled me in like a magnet."

He lowered his head, resting his forehead against hers. As their breaths tangled, his tone shifted into a bold declaration. "So, whether it was fate or just a chance encounter, my feelings for you were inevitable. Time, place, method... those are just variables. You are my only absolute answer.

He pressed a gentle kiss to her forehead.

Eleanor's heart began to hammer wildly in her chest, the blood rushing straight to her head.

She stared into his eyes, watching the raw, scorching emotion churning within them.

"So, never say 'if we hadn't met' again," he ordered, his voice laced with a dark possessiveness and a hint of frustration. "We met, and that's it. You are the love of my life. I've never doubted that for a second."

Without giving her a chance to process his words, he dipped his head and claimed her lips.

This kiss wasn't a test. It was a branding, an absolute certainty.

She instinctively tried to pull back, but that only provoked a more aggressive assault. He cupped the back of her head, completely devouring her mouth as he tasted every inch of her.

Eleanor shot him a warning glare.

He laughed helplessly, clearly fighting a losing battle with his own desire. Finally, he loosened his hold, slipping his hand down to intertwine his fingers with hers. "I'll walk you back."

"It's literally one door away," she reminded him. It was completely unnecessary.

But he simply squeezed her hand tighter. "I'm walking you back."

Unable to argue, she let him lead her to the door. He opened it for her. "Good night."

Eleanor turned, stepped back into her own living room, and shut the door.

Leaning back against the wood, she ran a hand through her long hair. In that moment, she felt as though she had discovered an entirely new dimension of emotion.