The CEO’s Masked Secret Wife novel Chapter 90

90 A Passionate Claim

The elevator doors opened with a soft chime. Liam’s hand pressed firmly against my back as he guided me down the hallway toward his apartment. The tension between us was thick enough to cut with a knife.

He fumbled with his keys, his hands uncharacteristically unsteady. As soon as the door opened, he pulled me inside and kicked it shut behind us.

“What the hell was that?” he growled, his voice low and dangerous.

I crossed my arms over my chest defensively. “What was what?”

“Don’t play dumb, Hazel. You know exactly what I’m talking about.” His violet-blue eyes blazed with fury. “You let that bastard kiss your neck.”

“I didn’t let him do anything,” I shot back. “It was a game, Liam. A stupid game that you agreed to play.”

He stepped closer, backing me against the door. “He touched what’s mine.”

–

His possessiveness sent a shiver down my spine – half indignation, half arousal.

“Yours?” I challenged, finding my voice. “That’s rich coming from someone who spent the night with another woman!”

Liam’s jaw tightened. “I told you nothing happened with Evelyn.”

“You expect me to believe that? You were gone all night!”

“I was drunk, Hazel. Too drunk to drive home. Too drunk to even remember half the night, let alone perform.” His hands slammed against the door on either side of my head, caging me in. “And you’re mad about that when you were letting Ethan put his mouth on you?”

“It was a game,” I repeated, my voice barely above a whisper. “And you’re deflecting.”

His face was inches from mine now. I could feel his warm breath on my lips, smell his intoxicating scent. My body betrayed me, responding to his proximity despite my

anger.

“The only thing I want,” he said, his voice dropping to a husky whisper, “is you.”

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Before I could respond, his mouth crashed onto mine. It wasn’t gentle or asking for permission – it was demanding, claiming, erasing any trace of Ethan’s touch. Despite my anger and hurt, my body responded instantly, arching into his.

His hands moved to my thighs, lifting me effortlessly. I wrapped my legs around his waist as he pressed me harder against the door, grinding his evident arousal against

my core.

“Mine,” he growled against my mouth. “Say it, Hazel. Tell me you’re mine.”

Part of me wanted to resist, to make him work for it after everything. But the larger part, the part currently on fire with need, couldn’t deny him.

“Yours,” I gasped as his lips found my neck, sucking hard at the exact spot where Ethan had kissed me. “I’m yours, Liam.”

That seemed to snap his last thread of control. Still holding me against the door, he reached between us to unbutton his pants. I heard the sound of his zipper, felt him push my dress up around my waist.

“I need you,” he groaned, pulling aside my underwear. “Now.”

There was no more foreplay, no gentle build-up. He thrust into me in one powerful stroke that had me crying out his name. My back pressed against the hard wooden door as he took me with an urgency that spoke of possession more than passion.

“No one touches you like this,” he growled, punctuating each word with a deep thrust.

“No one but me.”

“No one,” I agreed breathlessly, my fingers digging into his shoulders.

It was rough and primal, our bodies colliding with desperate need. I knew we were using sex to avoid the real conversation we needed to have, but in that moment, I didn’t care. All that mattered was the feel of him inside me, claiming me, erasing the memory of another man’s touch.

My release hit me suddenly and violently, my body clenching around him as I cried out his name. He followed moments later, his face buried in my neck as he groaned his completion.

We stayed there, still joined, my back against the door, both of us breathing heavily. Neither of us spoke as the intensity of what had just happened washed over us.

12:20 –

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Finally, Liam pulled back slightly to look at my face. His eyes had softened, the fury replaced by something warmer, more vulnerable.

“Bed,” he said simply, still carrying me with my legs wrapped around his waist.

That night, he took me again and again, each time more tender than the last. By the early hours of the morning, we lay tangled in his sheets, my head on his chest, his fingers tracing lazy patterns on my back.

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“I didn’t sleep with her,” he murmured into my hair. “I need you to believe that.”

I wanted to. God, how I wanted to. But doubt still lingered.

“Then why didn’t you come home?” I asked quietly.

He sighed. “I passed out on her couch. When I woke up, it was morning and I was still fully dressed. Nothing happened, Hazel.”

I nodded against his chest, not entirely convinced but too exhausted to argue further. We drifted off to sleep in each other’s arms, the real issues between us still simmering

beneath the surface.

When morning came, Liam was already awake, watching me with those intense violet-blue eyes.

“Good morning,” he said softly, brushing hair from my face.

“Morning,” I replied, suddenly self-conscious under his scrutiny.

He leaned down to kiss me, and despite everything, I melted into it. One thing led to another, and soon we were making love again, this time slow and sweet.

Afterward, Liam insisted on making breakfast. I sat at his kitchen counter wearing nothing but his shirt, watching as he moved confidently around the kitchen preparing eggs and coffee.

“We need to talk,” I said finally, as he set a plate in front of me. “About everything.”

He nodded, taking the seat beside me. “I know.”

I took a deep breath. “Liam, I don’t understand what happened. One minute we were fine, and the next you’re accusing me of sleeping with Ethan. You didn’t trust me enough to even ask me what happened.”

12-26

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90 A Passionate Claim

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