The Perfect Wife's Perfect Revenge novel Chapter 665

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After finishing the landscape, Gwyneth had unconsciously begun sketching Hawthorne as well. She was so lost in her work that when he suddenly spoke up, she nearly jumped out of her skin—she’d forgotten he was still in the room.

“So you were thinking about me, huh?” Hawthorne teased, his voice low and unmistakably suggestive. “No need to be shy, I’m right here. It’s getting late—why don’t we call it a night? We can always… find something else to do.”

His words couldn’t have been more blatant. Gwyneth’s cheeks burned crimson.

“There are still staff around the house,” she stammered.

For a man, his appetite was honestly overwhelming. How had she ever imagined he was the restrained, ascetic type?

“They know how to mind their own business,” Hawthorne replied with a crooked grin. “They won’t disturb us. Besides, isn’t it a good thing for the staff to see the master and mistress so in love?”

As if any of the staff would dare interrupt their employers—if they ever happened to see the two of them together, they’d probably bolt in the opposite direction. No one wanted to risk their job for that.

The truth was, Gwyneth was still sore from his attentions over the past few days.

Every time she was with Hawthorne, her legs would tremble and she’d be left weak-kneed, barely able to walk for days afterward.

She considered it—he really did seem insatiable.

After all, he’d been single for years. Finally meeting a woman he truly desired must have felt like a caged beast set free, hungry and wild after a long famine.

More than once, Gwyneth felt she could barely keep up with him.

Fortunately, Hawthorne seemed to realize when her body had reached its limit. He always became impossibly gentle, doing his best not to tire her out. Even so, Gwyneth would fall asleep the moment her head hit the pillow when they were done.

Hawthorne, for his part, was always reluctant to stop, but seeing her so exhausted, he forced himself to relent.

The next morning, as soon as her alarm chimed, Gwyneth’s eyes snapped open in fear of being late. Hawthorne was already up, and the moment he saw her throw back the covers, he reached over and pulled her into his arms.

“Did you feel alright last night? If you’re tired, you should stay home today, Mrs. Everhart. I’m at the company—believe me, it won’t fall apart if you take a day off.”