EX-HUSBAND'S BOSS FOR VALENTINE

THEN DON'T

MELANIA:

I shake my head at his words, and his brows crease slightly.

“I... I just don’t want to make a case.” My voice is barely above a whisper. As soon as I say it, his hands slowly slide away from my face.

“It’s my job to protect you, Melania. You’re my wife now. Keeping you safe is my responsibility.”

“I know… but please, don’t do anything.” I know Brady is an asshole, but I fear what Royal might do to him. He reminds me of my father—powerful men who would cut down anyone in their way. And I know exactly what Royal means. I don’t want blood on my hands.

His jaw clenches. “Then tell me what you want me to do. Just say it, and I’ll do it.”

I press my palm against my forehead. “Can we just sit down inside? Please.” My voice is low, exhausted.

He nods, taking my hand in his as he leads me through the front door. Inside, he guides me to the living room, helping me settle onto the couch.

“Let me get you some water,” he murmurs. I nod, and he strides into the kitchen.

His small kindness catches me off guard. I know this marriage is nothing more than a deal, but right now, this is the closest thing to love I’ve ever received from a partner.

A moment later, he returns with a glass, pressing it into my hands before settling beside me. I bring it to my lips, gulping down the cool liquid. When I’m done, he takes the glass, setting it aside.

A moment of silence stretches between us before I exhale deeply.

“I’m sor—”

“Why did—”

We speak at the same time, then pause, our gazes locking on each other. He sighs.

“You go first.”

I nod, pressing my hands against my lap. “I know things are awkward between us, and I don’t want them to be. But… it hurt a little when you ran off like that. I know the world doesn’t revolve around me, but for a moment, it felt like it did.” I let out a small, humorless laugh before continuing. “Then I decided to go to my ex-husband’s place to pick up my things, and… this happened.”

His hand finds mine, covering it with warmth.

“I’m sorry for how I acted,” he admits. “I know I’m trying to keep things formal, but I married you, Melania. You’re my responsibility now even if we are not really, yunno….” He inhales deeply, like he’s trying to release some unseen weight from his chest. “I was wrong, and I’ll try to do better.”

His words stir a strange feeling, and I feel my core tighten.

“We have to deal with your ex-husband,” he says, his voice lower and rougher. “Just give me his name, and I’ll handle it.”

Fuck this.

I press my lips against his.

For a second, he doesn’t move, and a sharp pang of regret strikes me, causing me to pull away.

“Sorry, I—”

His lips crash into mine, swallowing my words.

And just like that, I melt into his arms, which wrap around my body.

My body reacts before my mind can catch up, my hands roaming over his chest, feeling the hard ridges of muscle beneath his shirt. His grip tightens on my waist, and a shiver rolls down my spine.

I know we should stop.

But when his tongue sweeps against my bottom lip, coaxing my mouth open, all my senses disappear.

A gasp escapes my lips as he deepens the kiss, his fingers sliding up my back, pressing me closer. His hands move lower, gripping my hips, and a soft moan slips from my lips as I shift against him, my thighs brushing his.

He inhales sharply, his hot breath ghosting over my neck, sending heat straight through me.

“Mel,” he rasps in a thick voice.

The way he says my name. Gruff and possessive—makes my need for him unbearable.

“We need to stop,” he groans, but his grip on me tightens, contradicting his words.

I pull back slightly, my hands slipping beneath his shirt, and my fingers tracing the hard planes of his stomach.

“Then stop,” I whisper, staring into his darkened eyes, waiting for him to push me away.

But he doesn’t.

Instead, he pulls me onto his lap.

A sharp gasp leaves my lips as I straddle him, his hands sliding up my thighs, gripping them with just the right amount of pressure to send fire coursing through my veins.

I should be embarrassed by how desperate I am for him. But when I meet his gaze, I see the same hunger reflected back at me.

His lips trail down my neck, his tongue flicking over sensitive spots before sucking lightly, making my head fall back. My fingers tangle in his hair, and nails scrape against his scalp.

“Nnnngghhhh,” he groans, his grip on my waist turning bruising as I grind against him. I can already feel him beneath me, hard and begging, and I want nothing more than to take him—right here, right now.

His grip tightens like he’s fighting himself, torn between stopping and giving in.

“I can’t let you go,” he admits hoarsely, his lips crashing back onto mine like he needs me to breathe.

His hands slip beneath my shirt with his fingertips skimming my bare skin, sending shivers racing across my body. Every inch of me feels electrified—alive in a way I haven’t felt in so long.

Then, suddenly, he tears his mouth from mine, breathing hard. His forehead presses against mine.

“If we don’t stop now,” he rasps, “I won’t stop at all.”

“Then don’t stop,” I whisper.