The Perfect Wife's Perfect Revenge novel Chapter 706

He ached for her, seeing her stay up so late, and desperately wanted to tell her to get some rest.

Just half a month ago, he was holding her in his arms every night.

After making love, they would sleep soundly, not waking until morning.

Now that they were apart, neither of them could sleep.

Hawthorne had suppressed his desire to go to her several times, but tonight he couldn't resist.

He waited until the light in the master bedroom went out, certain she was asleep, before he quietly pushed the door open.

In the moonlight, Gwyneth's face was as flawless as porcelain.

Hawthorne gazed at the face he longed for day and night, reaching out to gently trace the soft curve of her cheek.

"Gwyn, what am I going to do with you?"

He'd met countless women over the years, but after his first love, Patti Yale, no one else had ever managed to capture his heart.

With Gwyneth, he sometimes felt he was being cruel, like he was robbing the cradle, but he was helplessly drawn to her.

She possessed a melancholy that women his age lacked, and she was most captivating when she was quiet and completely absorbed in what she was doing.

Hawthorne couldn't explain the sense of destiny he felt the first time he saw her.

But that's how feelings were—they crashed in like a tidal wave.

To have it all cut off so abruptly, before the tide had a chance to recede, felt like being thrown from a great height and shattering into pieces.

Only those who have experienced it can know the deep, piercing pain in the heart.

Perhaps Gwyneth heard his voice in her dream, as she shifted restlessly.

Hawthorne froze, his hand hovering over her face, not daring to move, terrified that the slightest sound would wake her.

Things were just too awkward between them right now, because his hands were tied.

He couldn't tell anyone about James Mercer, because everyone would condemn him for using Patti Yale to take him down.

It wasn't an honorable tactic, but business was war, and all's fair.

He had used far dirtier methods in the past; otherwise, he never would have been able to carve out a lifeline for the Everhart family in that bloody battlefield.

Hawthorne sat by the window, watching her sleep until the first light of dawn broke the horizon.

Gwyneth seemed to sleep especially peacefully that night.

Whenever she kicked off the covers, Hawthorne was there to gently tuck her arms back in.

He loved seeing her sweet smile in her sleep.

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