Chapter 619

After Danielle went downstairs, Ross stayed in her room. He stepped out onto the balcony and lit a cigarette, the smoke curling around him as restlessness gnawed at his nerves.

One cigarette turned into two, then three – by the time he stubbed out the third, the faint scent of burning tobacco clung to his clothes.

When he returned to the room, a rich aroma hit him – the tang of tomato sauce mixed with the sweet, fruity smell of grapes he’d always found cloying.

On the table sat a plate of steaming pasta, and Danielle was perched on the couch, her lips pressed into a tight line, avoiding his gaze.

Ross sat beside her, peeling off his smoke-stained jacket and loosening his tie with a lazy tug. The disheveled look suited him, a raw, unguarded sexiness that made Danielle’s breath catch.

He’d planned to have dinner, then beg for her forgiveness – but she leaned in suddenly, her voice soft and wobbly. “Why didn’t you tell me?”

Ross set down his fork, meeting her eyes. “Your parents told you?”

Danielle nodded, her throat tight. So this was why. Her parents had hidden her old uterine injury, and Ross had kept it from her to protect her.

He asked, “Are you still mad now?”

Guilt washed over her as she thought of his burned hand. She pressed a kiss to his cheek. “I’m sorry I left Neclen without telling you.” She pouted. “But why did you keep it from me? You fool.”

She couldn’t help resenting Shermaine a little, too. Shermaine must have known, yet she’d egged Danielle on, letting her run home and make Ross drive for hours to chase her.

Ross said nothing, just pulled her into a crushing hug. His kiss was hungry, demanding, and Danielle moaned into it, fisting his shirt as her lungs burned for air.

Before she knew it, he’d laid her back on the couch, his restraint snapping. He grabbed her wrists and bound them with his tie, the silk scratchy against her skin.

Danielle’s face flushed. It reminded her of the handcuffs that one night – but this time, Ross’ intensity was wilder, more unhinged. “Ross…”

He kissed her, his voice rough against her lips. “Why do you let young men fawn over you so easily, love?”

Danielle froze. “Jonathan isn’t–“

Her words dissolved into a gasp as he bit her ear, his hot breath making her shiver. “What were you saying?” His hand slid up her calf, under her skirt, his touch searing.

Later, the pasta had gone cold. Ross popped a grape into his mouth, then leaned down to feed it to Danielle, their lips brushing as juice dribbled down her chin. He licked it away, his voice low. “Does it taste good?”

Danielle clung to his neck, her toes curling. Her eyes were hazy. “Husband… Jonathan doesn’t like me. Stop being jealous.”

“He does,” Ross said, nipping her lower lip.

“I’ll never talk to him again. Just… calm down.” She squirmed, trying to catch her breath. “The pasta’s cold.”

Ross didn’t stop. He kissed her again, another grape between their lips. “Who cares about pasta?”