The End of a Marriage (Colette and Matheo) novel Chapter 264

There was no reply.

For a moment, she stood frozen, her pulse a deafening roar in her

ears. The coward inside her screamed for retreat–this was her chance

to leave, to slip away before she crossed a line she could never

uncross.

But then, with the last remnants of strength in her trembling limbs,

she pushed the door open.

The room was dark, save for the faint silver glow of moonlight

filtering through the heavy curtains. The bed was unmade, sheets

rumpled, but empty.

Her breath caught in her throat.

Maybe he wasn’t here. Maybe this was fate giving her one last out.

She should turn around. Walk away. Forget this reckless, desperate

impulse.

Then, a soft sound cut through the silence–the distant hiss of water

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ceasing.

A halo of light spilled from the slightly ajar bathroom door,

illuminating the space with a muted glow. Before she could move,

before she could even breathe, he stepped out.

And suddenly, all thought of escape vanished.

Graham hadn’t noticed her yet. His movements were casual,

unhurried, as he ran a hand through his damp, tousled hair, beads of

water still clinging to his skin. A towel hung low around his hips,

barely secured, drawing her unwilling gaze downward–over the

sculpted ridges of his abdomen, the deep cut of his V–line, and the

dark trail of hair that disappeared beneath the fabric.

She had felt those muscles beneath his shirt before, but now–now,

stripped bare before her–he was something else entirely.

Her mouth went dry.

The glow from the bathroom highlighted the powerful expanse of his

shoulders, the broad plane of his chest, the faint sheen of moisture

still glistening over his skin.

He turned slightly, reaching for something in the walk–in closet, and

the shift in motion made the towel dip just a fraction lower over his

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hips.

God.

Heat coiled deep inside her, unfamiliar and terrifying.

What was she doing?

She wasn’t ready for this. She needed to leave. Now. Before he saw

her, before she made an utter fool of herself.

The very thing that had drawn her in–that raw, undeniable

masculinity–was now the very thing making her tremble.

She had always admired his sheer size, the way his presence could

command a room, the way his broad shoulders and powerful arms

made her feel both safe and utterly helpless at the same time. But

now, standing in the dim glow of the room, with nothing but a towel

slung dangerously low on his hips, that same largeness, that same

strength, didn’t just make her nervous–it terrified her.

Her pulse pounded erratically as her gaze swept over him. The thick,

sinewy muscle of his chest, the sharp ridges of his abdomen, the deep

grooves leading lower–so much lower.

And then, for the first time, a new fear gripped her.

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She had read about sex. Seen it in movies. Understood, in theory, how

it worked. But she had never once thought about this–about size,

about scale, about what it would actually mean to take him inside

her.

If the rest of him was this big…

Her breath hitched.

Her stomach clenched, her throat went dry, and her legs turned to

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