The Divorced Heiress’s Revenge

Asher leaned down slowly, his bronzed, sculpted muscles flexing with each breath. The dips and ridges of his body stood out sharply, his striking features growing larger in Arnold's stunned gaze.

His brows and eyes were sharp and dazzling, luring him in.

Arnold pressed against the headboard, his breath catching. His mind went blank. His heart still fluttered. 'What now? Ugh! I'm so pathetic and weak...'

Asher braced his arms on either side of him, his dark eyes locking onto Arnold's. Though his pupils were deep black, his love surged like an unrelenting tide, wild and all-consuming.

It felt like last night's madness all over again. All he wanted to do was swallow him whole, melt into him, and never let go.

"Arnold, does it still hurt...?"

"Go to hell!" Arnold's crimson, fox like eyes burned with fury as he slapped Asher across the face.

It was a hard slap. Five distinct finger marks bloomed instantly on Asher's check, which turned red and swollen. Yet, Asher barely felt it because his heart had been aching far worse.

his hands trembling, his voice nearly hysterical. "Who the hell told you

stray dog, drenched and abandoned

Asher, in my eyes... You are nothing!" Arnold grabbed his scattered clothes from the floor and

his pocket, ripped out a thick stack of bills,

last night a damn transaction! Now get the hell out of my sight and don't ever let me

silence. The only sound left was

face tight with urgency. "Mr. Larson ran off! You finally got to see him how could you let him go?! Even if you had to use underhanded tricks, you

motionless, his face pale

He had seen the rise and fall of Asher's last

the scattered bills one by one, clutching them tightly in his palm. "Yuri... Maybe it's

pissed, I say I wanna blow up the White

it matter?" Asher curled into himself, like a crushed soda can, discarded by the only one he

stepped out of the hotel. The sky was murky gray with

stopped in front of him. "Mr. Larson,