The MC President's Forsaken Wife (Zara and Knox) novel Chapter 318

Chapter 156-1

“Locke…” I say, my voice trembling, a breathless mix of lingering tears, overwhelming relief, and sudden, intense shyness. “I can’t

“Tell me, baby,” he demands, his voice dropping, “Although I bet I can guess.”

His hands slide down the sides of his old t-shirt, his palms brushing against my bare thighs as he gathers the thin cotton in his fists, slowly riding the fabric up and over my head, leaving me completely open beneath his gaze.

He looks down at me, taking in my bare hips, the line of my stomach, and the heavy, rapid rise and fall of my chest. He can feel the heat radiating off me in waves, can feel how damp and sensitive my skin is

beneath his touch.

“You were calling my name,” Locke says, his dark eyes locked on mine. “You were squirming in the sheets, sweating, begging for something. Was it me, baby? Were you dreaming about me while I was out in the cold?”

“Yes,” I say, abandoning all pride. “I was dreaming about you. I’ve been dreaming about you every single night, Locke. I was starving for you. It was driving me crazy.”

A low, dark growl echoes deep in his broad chest, a sound of pure animal satisfaction and fierce, possessive claim. Two weeks of total sensory deprivation, two weeks of living like a ghost in the dark,

vanish in an instant.

He’s ravenous for me, starving for the warmth, the softness, and the life that only I can give him.

“Good,” he rasps, his lips brushing against mine. “Because I’ve been going fucking out of my mind out there, thinking about coming home and putting my hands on you. I thought about this every damn second I was away.”

He doesn’t hesitate any longer. He leans down, his mouth taking mine with a dark, starving intensity that takes my breath completely away.

The kiss is heavy, possessive, and dangerous, born from two weeks of absolute silence, uncertainty, and separation. His tongue parts my lips with absolute authority, tasting the salt of my tears, the lingering sweetness of my mouth, claiming every inch of me as if reminding us both that I belong to him, body and soul.

I let out a low, needy soft cry against his mouth, pulling him closer, needing the crushing weight of him to burn away the cold horror of the last fourteen days. I kiss him back with everything I have left, opening myself up to him completely, matching his desperate hunger with my own deep, aching need.

“I love you,” I whisper against his lips between ragged breaths. “I love you so much, Locke. Don’t ever leave me like that again. Please.”

“I love you, baby,” he growls, his voice raw, fierce, and broken with emotion. “I love you more than my own damn life.”

Now Locke moves with sharp, efficient purpose. He reaches down, unbuckling his heavy tactical vest and throwing it to the floor, where it hits the hardwood with a loud, heavy clank of iron plates and steel

172

buckles

He rips his shirt off over his head, tossing it aside into the shadows, revealing the vast, muscular expanse of his chest, carved with old scars, thick with powerful muscle, and radiating an incredible, intense heat that warms the bedroom,

He reaches down, gripping my waist, and lifts me effortlessly, shifting me until I’m lying in the center of the massive bed. He follows me down instantly, his broad, heavy body blanketing mine, pinning me into the soft mattress beneath his weight.

“Locke,” I gasp, my hands moving over his bare shoulders, feeling the hard, coiled tension in his back, tracing the rugged line of his spine. “God, I missed you.”

“I’ve got you, baby,” he says. “I’m never letting you go.”

His mouth tracks down my throat, his teeth nipping at the sensitive junction where my shoulder meets my collarbone, making me arch my back up off the bed with a sharp, gasping sigh of pleasure.

His hands are everywhere, relentless, heavy, and possessive. Then he stops for a second, his chest heaving as he sits back on his knees between my thighs, looking down at me.

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