The Year She Stopped Being Crazy for Him novel Chapter 98

Since then, Hassan had actually respected her boundaries and hadn't touched her.

So what exactly was the meaning of this new box?

Natalie wasn't some naive teenager. After four years of marriage, she understood exactly what this signal meant.

Remembering what Nancy had told her at the grocery store earlier, a wave of pure nausea washed over her.

The bathroom door swung open. The man stepped out, a towel slung low and loose around his hips. Water droplets slid down his chiseled abdomen and tracing his sharp V-line.

It was the body she used to admire more than anything else in the world.

She tossed the box back onto the nightstand. "You aren't seriously planning to follow your grandmother's orders, are you?"

Hassan sat on the edge of the bed, his dark eyes locking onto hers. "I'm not exactly known for being obedient. But until the divorce papers are finalized, we are still husband and wife."

His implication was clear—marital obligations were still on the table.

She sneered. "Do we even look like a married couple to you anymore? If you don't want me throwing up on you, stay the hell away from me."

Ignoring the warning, he closed the distance. One hand clamped down firmly on her shoulder, while the other slid downward. She was wearing jeans, and the sharp zip of the metal fly echoed loudly in the quiet room.

She hadn't expected him to be so brutally direct.

She grabbed his wrist to stop him, but he seamlessly flipped his grip, pinning her hands down as the crushing weight of his large frame pushed her backward onto the mattress. "What if I don't want to stay away?"

He leaned in close, their breaths tangling together. With practiced ease, he yanked the hem of her shirt from her waistband, sliding his hand up to unfasten her bra with a single, practiced flick.

Natalie bit down hard on his shoulder. "I don't want this."

"It's what you owe me as Mrs. Carlson."

"It's pathetic," she choked out. "A few days ago, you were ready to send my grandmother to prison, and now you're calmly pinning me to a bed, demanding sex? What the hell goes on in your head? Doesn't it make you sick?"

She genuinely couldn't understand him anymore. If he loved Gardenia, he shouldn't be touching her. If he wanted Gardenia, why wasn't he sleeping with Gardenia? Or were all men just wired to have their cake and eat it too, keeping the wife trapped at home while playing the field?

He knew every single sensitive spot on her body perfectly. It required barely any effort on his part to make her entirely melt into a trembling mess.

Physically, his strength would always overpower hers.

She gave a hollow laugh. "Do you think I'm stupid? You know exactly why I'm disgusted. If you told your friends about this, do you think they'd even believe you?"

"Why do they need to believe it? This is between us. As long as you believe it, that's all that matters."

"Well, I don't."

She pressed the blades a fraction deeper into his neck. A thin line of blood welled up.

It quickly rolled down his skin, sliding over his collarbone, his chest, his abs, until thick drops landed heavily on her stomach.

But the man didn't stop.

"Then kill me," he murmured, pressing his mouth against hers.

The tip sank slightly deeper. Finally, Natalie's hand began to shake violently, and the scissors clattered to the floor.

Her voice trembled. "You should know... the only reason I can't do it is because I refuse to be labeled a murderer. I'm not going to jail for you."

"Is that right?" he asked, bleeding freely and completely unfazed. "Is that really what you think, Natalie?"