No More Mrs. Nice Wife (Eleanor) novel Chapter 1590

A second later, his fingers gently caught her chin, forcing her to look up. He lowered his head, his lips crashing down onto hers with undeniable dominance and years of repressed, agonizing hunger.

"Mmm—" All of Eleanor's protests were swallowed whole.

The kiss was a relentless, aggressive siege. He devoured her lips, tangling with her in a greedy, desperate demand, as if trying to pour every ounce of his longing from the past years into this single collision.

Eleanor's mind completely short-circuited. His familiar scent overwhelmed her senses; his chest was a wall of scorching heat against hers, and his kiss was ruthlessly possessive, yet unbearably tender.

It felt like he was melting her down to the core.

Eleanor wasn't made of stone. She had simply mastered the art of repressing her physical desires, burying herself in work to stay distracted. But here, in the dead of night, it was as if all her logic had vanished into thin air.

Her body reacted on pure instinct, responding to the man holding her. A familiar, electrifying heat rushed through her veins, and she practically melted against him.

And the man knew every inch of her intimately. He knew exactly how breathtaking, how exquisitely curved the body hiding beneath her usual, practical clothing truly was.

Eleanor usually dressed conservatively. Even in formal gowns, she rarely showed much skin. Her beauty was entirely natural, effortless.

She wasn't just stunningly gorgeous; she had breathtaking curves that were entirely hidden beneath her usual attire.

The kiss stretched on for what felt like an eternity before he finally pulled back a fraction. Resting his forehead against hers, he breathed heavily, his dark eyes burning into her swollen, flushed lips and hazy gaze.

"I'm sorry—" he rasped. "I lied to you—"

He raised a hand, his thumb tracing the soft curve of her cheek, a storm of agonizingly complex emotions swirling in his eyes. "Could you just... make a mistake tonight? Let me feel what it's like to be needed by you again?"

His voice was a low rumble, laced with an aching, desperate vulnerability.

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