chapter 23
He was so close I could feel the heat of his gaze pressing against the skin of my back. I froze, certain that if I shifted even an inch, I would collide with him. Despite my efforts to stay grounded, unbidden thoughts began to plague me—shameful, persistent images of his exposed chest and the sharp, clean lines of his collarbones. I squeezed my eyes shut, mentally scolding myself for such scandalous impulses. It’s wrong, I told myself. He is my husband, but surely a man like him—an attractive man of experience—wouldn't want intimacy with someone like me. I imagined him with beautiful women from his past, and a sharp, irrational spike of jealousy flared in my chest. We weren't star-crossed lovers; we had no history of luck together. So why did the mere thought of him with anyone else make
- Writer
