The Wrong Woman

Imogen found herself completely lost in Jasper's deep, commanding kiss, unable to pull away.

She didn't know when she had started to give in, but his kiss made her lose control and her body responded in ways she couldn't comprehend.

His dominant presence left her weak. She melted in his arms. Under the intensity of his kiss, she felt light-headed, her mind going blank.

Jasper's lips and tongue were tantalizing, while his strong chest felt warm against her. His body radiated heat.

Imogen's legs grew weak, and before she knew it, he had guided her out of the kitchen.

Their bedroom was upstairs, but fearing she might regain her senses and push him away, Jasper pressed her onto the living room couch instead.

Disoriented by his kisses, Imogen's breathing became erratic, and her body grew uncomfortably warm.

He reached for the remote on the

her clothes had been removed or how quickly things had escalated. She was utterly lost in

turning her head away from his kiss, pounding

Jasper murmured, his voice

was acting, he felt it necessary to claim her, to sever her thoughts of divorce. He wanted to leave her with no room to escape him. Before, he had avoided touching her, hoping she would fall

fear, and anger, feeling utterly disrespected. He had claimed her innocence, in her moment of confusion and desire, before seeking

now, she despised him, a hatred born from her frustration and rage. She didn't

away, caressed her face, and whispered apologies, yet remained unyielding in

into the night, Imogen retreated to her room and took a shower. With her aching legs, she curled up in her bed, silently crying herself

putting on his clothes. He stared solemnly at the blood-stained couch,

knew Imogen would hate him for this. The realization of it pained him