The Ruthless CEO's Revenge Wife
Chapter 143: The Desire She Can’t Resist

Chapter 143: The Desire She Can’t Resist

Jean didn’t move.

Didn’t flinch.

Didn’t shove him away.

So he took a breath, heart pounding... and trailed his lips down, brushing against her temple... her cheek... pausing for a moment to feel her breath catch... before kissing the corner of her lips.

Her hands clenched against his arms.

Still, she didn’t stop him.

His hands moved to her waist, grounding her, pulling her just slightly forward. His lips traced her jawline... slow, reverent... until he reached her shoulder, where the neckline of her top had slipped just slightly. His mouth grazed her skin, feather light, yet it sent shivers through her.

"Logan..." she whispered, not as a warning, but as if she was just now remembering where they were.

Why? Why can’t she resist him?

He paused, his lips still hovering against her collarbone. "Tell me to stop... and I will."

But she didn’t.

Instead, her hand rested lightly against his chest... feeling his heartbeat, strong and frantic.

"You didn’t stop when I told you I didn’t need you," she said quietly, eyes still closed. She herself didn’t know what she meant by that.

"That’s because I know you do," he whispered.

Jean didn’t say anything. Anymore.

She didn’t need to.

Her silence wasn’t rejection... it was surrender.

A quiet permission.

Logan leaned in again, his lips capturing hers this time... not rough, not hurried... but desperate in the gentlest way. Like a man starved for something real.

His kiss deepened, and she responded. But she couldn’t follow. Slowly. Almost cautiously, but she didn’t resist.

Their breath mingled. His hands caressed her waist, then slid to her thighs, lifting her slightly... her legs instinctively wrapping around him.

She gasped softly into his mouth when he pressed her back against the kitchen wall, the cool marble contrasting the heat between them.

She arched into him, his touch trailing under her top, fingers brushing along her spine. His lips moved to her neck, marking a path of delicate fire. Jean’s hands tangled in his hair, pulling him closer, grounding herself in his presence.

"Logan..." she breathed... this time, not in hesitation... but because he was unraveling her in ways she wasn’t prepared for.

"I’ve wanted this," he whispered against her skin. "You. Like this. For so long."

She couldn’t speak. Her body was speaking for her.

He slid the strap of her top off her shoulder, mouth finding the exposed skin again. She tilted her head, letting him explore... until...

"Is someone cooking...?"

They both froze.

Logan pulled back, eyes still dark with desire, jaw clenched in frustration. Jean blinked, as if just waking from a trance, heart still racing.

Just as Logan stepped away to breathe and Jean adjusted her top, the soft shuffle of feet came from the hallway. Before either of them could move or speak...

A voice yawned from behind them.

Both Jean and Logan froze in place... caught red handed like teenagers.

There stood Hannah, hair mussed, one sock on and one missing, still wearing the oversized tee she’d passed out in earlier. She rubbed her eyes, only for them to widen in the next second when she noticed the flushed faces, the heavy breathing, and the distinct lack of distance between her brother and Jean.

Her mouth formed a perfect O. "Oh my God... were you two about to..." she gasped dramatically, pointing between them.

Jean immediately stepped aside, brushing her hair back like she wasn’t just seconds away from being kissed senseless. "You’re up," she said calmly, trying to steady her breath, her tone way too neutral to be natural.

"Yeah I cooked." Logan cleared his throat and turned toward the stove. "Food’s ready. Sit. You look half dead."

"I feel half dead," Hannah muttered, plopping onto a barstool while still gawking at the awkward silence now thick in the air. "And I smell sexual tension."

Logan plated a serving of pasta and slid it in front of her, hoping food would shut her up. "Eat. Talk less."

Jean had already backed up, retreating to the shadows of the hallway like the moment between them never happened.

Logan didn’t miss it.

By the time he turned again, she was gone.

He stared at the empty hallway, his heart quietly clenching.

Why?

Why did she always pull back the moment he reached her? Every time he saw her crack open... let him in... she sealed herself shut again.

Behind him, Hannah chewed slowly, watching the expression he wore like a storm brewing behind calm eyes.

"Hey," she said gently. "You okay?"

Logan didn’t answer.

He simply took the dish from the counter and stirred it absently. She’s always slipping away. Just when I think I have her.

Logan’s jaw clenched.

The room was quiet, save for the occasional gentle ripple of water sloshing against the porcelain tub.

Jean leaned her head back against the cool tiles, eyes half lidded, lips slightly parted.

She’d been careful... so careful... not to get the bandages wet. The memory of the fire still tingled against her skin, the warmth lingering like an echo... but that wasn’t the only heat pulsing through her body now.

No.

This was something else.

Something shameful.

Her chest rose and fell in a slow, trembling rhythm. Her knees bent, slightly parted beneath the water. When she clenched her thighs together, her breath caught.

She was... wet.

God.

Her stomach fluttered, a thousand nerves dancing. Her fingers ghosted up her own arms, following the invisible trail his hands had left hours ago... his rough palms grazing her waist, skimming down her back, lips brushing her skin like fire.

She thought she’d never feel this again. She thought Tyler had stolen this part of her forever. That pleasure... was ruined. Forbidden. Cruel. Horrifying.

But then came him.

Logan.

Large. Commanding. Gentle. And yet... unrelenting.

His kiss came back to her like a fever. The way his mouth claimed hers, unapologetically, like she was something precious he’d waited years to touch.

His tongue had explored her mouth, warm and slow and deliberate.

Jean brought trembling fingers to her lips, barely breathing. With a realisation...

She didn’t know how to kiss.