Whispers of Destiny: His Belated Love novel Chapter 6

Rosemary didn't catch what was off about Maxwell's words. She was still fuming over his icy detachment, huffing out a response in annoyance.

Maxwell picked up his soup and downed it in one go, though he set the bowl down with a bit too much force, causing a loud bang.

Then he flipped back the covers and slid into bed, while Rosemary turned her back to him, switched off her bedside lamp, and shut her eyes, ready to hit the sack.

This past year, they'd occasionally share a bed, with enough space between them to fit another two people. But tonight was a bit different.

She was snoozing away when suddenly Maxwell got all up in her space. She was practically in his arms, her back against his solid chest. Through just two thin layers of fabric, she could feel every ridge of his muscles.

His deep, raspy breathing was right up in her ear, cranking the room's heat up to scorching levels.

Before Rosemary could even react, she felt something pressing against her lower back. Her brain froze for a sec, and then it clicked what was going on.

"Maxwell," her voice came out shaky, half from the shock and half from nerves; she was worried that Maxwell might force the issue.

She had longed for this kind of scene in the early days of their marriage, but years of his coldness had ground those dreams to dust. Now, with divorce on the horizon, the last thing they needed was another entanglement.

Some mistakes one only needed to make once.

"Hmm?" His voice, rough as gravel, resonated above her head, oozing a domineering vibe that couldn't be ignored.

The next second, Maxwell rolled over, pinning her beneath him, towering above as he stared into her eyes.

Rosemary steadied herself and tried to push him away, "I don't want to."

"Didn't you accuse me of not satisfying you? When you asked me to drink the soup, I thought you were so desperate you'd hop on and take charge. Now you're saying you don't want to. Playing hard to get, huh?" His lips brushed against hers as he spoke, his tone dripping with desire but his words full of sarcasm.

Even an idiot could tell the soup was spiked, and Rosemary tried to explain, "I didn't know."

"You think I'd buy that? This isn't your first rodeo."

Every time that night was brought up, Rosemary felt utterly helpless, as he always forced her to relive it.

"I'm only going to say this one more time, it was because,"

Before she could finish, Maxwell's overwhelming kiss cut her off, literally capping her words. Rosemary was stunned, her hands pushing against his chest trying to shove him away, but in return, she got an even deeper, more forceful kiss. There was no gentleness or tenderness, just outright conquest.

Her lip was cut, the faint taste of blood mingling with her dizziness from the lack of oxygen, until his scorching hand touched her and she jolted into awareness, realizing her shirt buttons had been undone at some point.