Perhaps it was the intensity of her gaze, but Weston seemed to sense something and raised his eyes to meet hers. “Are you done?” he asked, his voice indifferent, as if the phone call earlier had meant nothing.
Stella’s lips twitched, forming a faint, almost sarcastic smile. Weston caught the underlying tone in her expression, and his eyes darkened. Without another word, he stepped toward her, took her wrist, and pulled her into his arms, trapping her against his chest. He tilted her chin and asked, “Why did you look at me like that?”
Stella met his gaze, her eyes unwavering as if she were trying to see through him. “It’s nothing,” she replied coldly. “I just feel like I was blind as a bat before.”
Weston’s eyes narrowed, his jaw tightening slightly in response to her words. She had clearly offended him, but he showed no signs of anger. Instead, he leaned in and planted a soft kiss on the corner of her lips. “Do you know what we’re doing next?”
Stella closed her eyes, her thoughts racing. She reached for the strap of his bathrobe and gently pulled it open. “I hope you can keep your word,” she murmured. “When you’re done, let me go, and never come back to my life again.”
The two of them had been married for some time, and Stella knew exactly what was coming. The reality of the situation hit her as she noticed there were no women’s clothes in the room. Without hesitation, she slipped into his bathrobe. It was too large for her, the fabric hanging loosely around her frame, revealing much of her skin with just a slight pull.
For a moment, Weston froze, his breath catching in his throat as his eyes locked onto her exposed body. He hesitated, his desire warring with his restraint.
Stella waited, but the pressure of his touch didn’t come. She stood still, unsure of what to expect. Just as she was about to open her eyes, his kiss claimed her lips, urgent and consuming.
Weston held her firmly, his kiss deepening as he lost himself in the moment. He had not planned on pushing things further, but the way she looked at him—with something resembling acceptance—stirred an overwhelming urge in him. He had wanted her for a long time, wanted to take control, to claim her in every way. He could have let her go, but instead, he pressed forward.
The heat in her body intensified, and Stella closed her eyes, trying to convince herself that this was just another moment to endure. But her body betrayed her, her stiffness revealing the truth of how she felt.
She found him repulsive. She felt sick to her stomach.
Weston abruptly pulled back, his interest waning as he remembered how she had been retching in the living room just moments before. His desire for her had always been unspoken, but he didn’t want to force her. He could sense her rejection, and the idea of her being repulsed by him didn’t sit well with him. He preferred when she was at his mercy, crying for him, unable to refuse him.
Stella opened her eyes in confusion as he pulled away from her. She stared at him warily, trying to read his expression.
Weston propped himself up, his fingers grazing her forehead before gently resting on her cheek. “I won’t take you tonight,” he murmured.
Stella’s fists clenched in frustration. “What do you mean?”
He leaned down and kissed her forehead softly. “Get some sleep.”
His words hung in the air, and he pulled her closer, wrapping his arms around her. He rested his chin on her shoulder, inhaling her scent—one that was faintly familiar, a combination of his body wash and her natural fragrance.
Weston kissed her neck with a quiet sense of contentment.
Stella, exhausted from the emotional and physical toll, took a deep breath. “Come on,” she whispered, her voice strained. “Get it done and over with. Stop torturing me.”
Weston tightened his hold on her, his tone laced with irritation. “Is this torture for you?”
Stella scoffed, her voice thick with sarcasm. “What do you think? Am I supposed to feel grateful?” She turned in his arms, her eyes locking with his. “We both know what you want to do, so why pretend to be a gentleman now?”
Skip to content