Chapter 93

He knew exactly where to touch—seemingly innocuous spots that made my knees weak and a needy ache bloom between my thighs. To prove it, Noah's hand drifted lower, his fingertips grazing my breasts. "I know all the spots that make you tick," he murmured, his hand trailing lower, over my abdomen and toward my thighs. "All these years, during our monthly intimacy nights, you thought I wasn't paying attention…"

He paused, his fingers resting on my hip bone. His voice, huskier than ever, continued, "But I was taking notes," he finished, digging his fingers into my hip and pulling me against him.

A tiny whimper escaped my lips as our groins pressed together, my eyelids fluttering as my head tipped back against the mirror. My body reacted instinctively to Noah's touch. He was right. Even after all the strain and hurt, he knew exactly how to make me melt.

Slowly, I looked up at his hard body and into his deep green eyes. I held his gaze for a moment, and then I felt it: something warm and hard pressing against my leg. Smirking, I subtly bucked my hips. He tried to hide it, but I saw his jaw clench and his eyes roll back as he blinked rapidly.

I glanced at the bathroom door. It was still locked; we were alone. The realization hit me like a jolt of electricity. This physical intimacy—the insatiable hunger that still existed despite everything—was precisely what had gotten us into this mess. We were hopeless.

With a harsh inhale, I shoved against Noah's chest, creating space between us. "That's enough," I hissed, glaring at him despite the lingering tingle of his touch. I smoothed my shirt and turned to the mirror. "I'm not interested."

Noah stared at me in the reflection, bewildered by my abrupt rejection. Before he could speak, I pulled out my lipstick, dragging it across my lips. "If you're really that desperate, you'd be better off going to Zoe." The words tasted like acid, a betrayal of my promise to Drake, but I forced them out, driven by a desire to wound him as he had wounded me.

Hurt flickered across Noah's features, quickly replaced by an icy mask of indifference. "You're my wife," he said harshly, "Not her."

I scoffed. "Not for long."

Noah's glare hardened. Without a word, he stormed out, the door slamming shut. I watched him go, my shoulders slumping only after the door closed. I let out a shaky breath, blinking rapidly to avoid crying and ruining my makeup.

Damn it.