Reclaimed By My Ex-husband
Chapter 34: The burning desire

Chapter 34: The burning desire

After dinner, Nathaniel followed his usual routine—retreating into the study to finish some work. He switched on the lights, rolled up his sleeves, and sank into the leather chair, opening a file.

But the words on the page blurred.

He blinked hard, rubbed his eyes, and tried again. Still, nothing made sense. The lines swam. His chest rose and fell with growing unease.

At first, it was just a warmth behind his eyes, a strange buzz in his chest. But then it spread. Heat unfurled across his skin, crawling over his shoulders and down his spine like wildfire. His skin felt too tight, suddenly aware of how constricting his shirt felt.

He leaned back, rubbing the back of his neck, but it didn’t help. The sensation was intensifying. He stood, paced the length of the study like he could shake it off, then sat again. Picking up the glass of water, he drank. Nothing helped.

The air itself felt thick. Every breath seemed heavier. And under it all was a restless, growing need—deep in his muscles, in his chest, in his gut. The desire that burned within him was too strong to be natural.

"What is happening to me?" he wondered, confused. "Why am I feeling so hot?"

The soup.

He didn’t know why he thought of it. But he had the strange feeling that something wasn’t right with that soup. He rubbed his nape and tried to breathe, but the feeling only thickened.

It was urgent. Charged.

He felt sharp, alert, like his senses were turned up. His skin grew super sensitive to touch. He knew he was drugged.

And in the haze of that growing hunger, only one image cut through the confusion—Zara.

He needed to find her. Now.

Nathaniel pushed out of the study in a rush, barely aware of his own movements. The fire under his skin had grown unbearable. Logic was slipping through his fingers like sand.

He entered the bedroom. Zara lay on her side, her back to him. He couldn’t tell if she was awake, and honestly, he didn’t care.

His mind was clouded, and every nerve in his body screamed for her.

He stepped closer, slowly, his feet dragging with restraint that was quickly unraveling. His chest rose and fell rapidly, his eyes locked on her figure, drinking in every detail until they landed on her injured leg.

He froze.

For a brief second, something in him hesitated. She was injured. But then the wave of heat surged again, crashing through him, burning away what little clarity he had left.

"Zara," he rasped.

She turned. The dim light obscured his face, but she could tell something wasn’t right just by looking at his tense body.

"What’s wrong?" she asked, alarmed, sitting up quickly.

But before she could process anything else, he lunged forward, climbing onto the bed and pulling her into his arms like a man possessed. His grip was tight, desperate, and the need in his eyes was undeniable.

"I don’t know what’s happening to me," he murmured against her skin. "But I want you. Please."

His lips crashed against her neck in a searing kiss.

Zara froze. Her entire body tensed beneath his hold. Her heart pounded wildly as confusion, disbelief, and a flood of questions stormed through her.

What happened to him? Was this real... or something else entirely?

In the five years of their cold, distant marriage, Nathaniel had never once taken the lead when it came to intimacy. Every attempt had come from Zara, trying to bridge the space between them. Most of the time, he had ignored her. Sometimes, he had walked away. And on the rare nights he gave in, it was only under the haze of alcohol, never with real intention, never with warmth.

But tonight was different.

He had come to her on his own, driven by a need so raw it startled her. His lips crashed into her skin with urgency, his hands slipping under her nightdress. It was overwhelming, all-consuming.

This was what she had once begged the universe for: his desire, his hunger, his attention. She had spent years aching for him to look at her like this, to reach for her first.

But now, after all the pain, the rejection, the scars, his touch felt hollow. His need felt misplaced.

She wasn’t that woman anymore.

"Nathaniel..." she gasped, trying to wriggle out of his grip, but his arms locked around her like steel. "Look at me. Are you sure you know who you are holding right now? Are you sure it’s me you want?"

His eyes were wild, glazed with heat. He cupped her face, panting, shaking. "It’s you... I know it’s you. My wife."

And then his lips crashed on hers, fierce and desperate. He devoured her like he had waited years for this moment.

Zara’s heart slammed against her ribs. Her mind reeled. She froze under the weight of his mouth, his body, his breath.

It was too much.

"No," she pushed at his chest, "Stop."

She tried to shove him away, clawing for space. "You are making a mistake. I think you’ve got the wrong person—I’m not—"

"Stop talking," he murmured hoarsely as his lips moved down her neck. His kisses grew rougher, more fevered—biting, sucking, desperate.

Zara’s body stiffened beneath him.

"Um..." Zara whimpered as his teeth grazed her skin. "What’s wrong with you? Why are you acting like this?"

"You talk too much," he murmured, before capturing her mouth again, this time more desperately. His tongue slipped past her lips, tasting her, drinking her.

Zara fought to push him away, her hands pressed against his chest, but his touch was overwhelming. The heat of his body, the urgency of his kiss—it all chipped away at her defenses. Her body, long deprived of affection, responded instinctively, craving more.

But her mind cautioned her, reminding her of her baby.

"Nathaniel," she managed to breathe between kisses, "stop for a moment. Look at me."

But he didn’t pause. Her words didn’t reach him. It was like he wasn’t really here, swept up in a storm of sensation. His hands pushed the thin straps of her nightdress off her shoulders, lips trailing down to the soft swell of her chest. His fingers glided along her bare skin, setting her nerves on fire.

She trembled under his touch, her back arching toward him before she could stop herself.

Still, she tried to stop him. "Look closely, Nathaniel... before you regret it. I’m not Nora... I’m Zara."

But Nathaniel wasn’t listening. The burn in his veins, the fever in his skin, the maddening need clouded everything. His hands slid down, grabbing her thighs, pulling her closer.

"Ahh—" she cried out, a sharp pain ripping through her as her injured ankle twisted under the motion.

He froze. The haze shattered in an instant. Realization hit him like a cold wave. He recoiled, pulling back at once, releasing her from his grip.

His chest rose and fell frantically. He was sweating, trembling, but he forced himself to stop. "Sorry," he rasped, shaken. "I’m sorry..."

He bolted from the bed, crossed the room in long strides, and disappeared into the bathroom.

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