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.

I don't just hate you now. What you've done disgusts me!" Arnold shoved him away, his hands trembling, his voice nearly hysterical. "Who the hell

looked like a stray dog, drenched and abandoned in the rain. "Last night... At

the right to interfere?! Who the hell are you to me?! Asher, in my eyes... You are

out his wallet from his pocket, ripped out a thick stack

and don't ever let me see you again!" With that,

sound left was the heavy, lonely

in, his 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

sat motionless, his face pale

more worried than the man himself. He had seen the rise and fall of Asher's last relationship

a whisper. He crouched down, trembling, gathering the scattered bills one by one, clutching them tightly in

few octaves, "What the hell?! You actually believe that nonsense?! When I get pissed, I say I wanna blow up the White Ilouse-should

it matter?" Asher curled into himself, like a crushed soda can, discarded by the only one he had ever loved. "Arnold and I ended things a long time

the hotel. The sky was murky gray with a blinding white rift in

limousine rolled up and stopped in front of him. "Mr. Larson,