The Ruthless CEO's Revenge Wife
Chapter 36: Feeling His Six Pack Abs

Chapter 36: Feeling His Six Pack Abs

But he didn’t let go.

Instead, he pulled her back against him with one swift motion, her spine meeting the steady rise and fall of his chest.

"You’re freezing," he said quietly near her ear. "Stop being stubborn."

She tried to wriggle free, but his grip only tightened slightly. His warmth seeped into her skin like a balm, calming the tremors that shook her body.

"I said I’ll manage," she muttered.

"You’re doing a horrible job at it," he retorted.

His arm stayed right where it was... firm, secure, and annoyingly comfortable. Jean gave another half-hearted squirm, but the truth was, she was warmer now. Safer, too. That realization annoyed her almost as much as his smug silence.

With a final huff, she gave up and lay still, letting the heat between their bodies chase away the night’s cold.

"This means nothing," she said flatly.

"Of course not," Logan replied, resting his chin slightly above her head. "Just good ol’ body heat. Nothing more."

But his hand didn’t move from her waist.

And Jean didn’t ask him to.

The Next Morning

Jean stirred slowly, warmth cocooning her in a way that felt... unnatural. Unfamiliar.

Then she remembered.

Logan.

Her eyes fluttered open only to be greeted by the sight of him... his face mere inches from hers, his breath warm and even against her cheek. And that wasn’t the worst of it. Somewhere during the night, her hand had found its way inside his shirt.

Inside his shirt.

She froze.

She should have jerked back, should have yanked her hand away like she’d touched fire. But her gaze dropped to where her fingers rested... right over his chest, the slow, steady beat of his heart thudding against her palm.

He looked so... peaceful. And damn it, she wasn’t heartless.

Just get your hand out, she told herself. Quietly. No big deal.

Jean took a slow breath, steadying herself. Carefully, she began to withdraw her hand, grazing down his chest... and then it happened. Her fingertips brushed over his nipple, and a jolt ran up her spine.

It was... firm.

Her breath hitched.

Focus, she scolded herself, but her hand had a mind of its own, drifting down the contours of his body, over smooth, taut skin. She paused.

Abs?

Jean blinked. Wait, when did he get abs? Her fingers traced along each ridge, counting them almost unconsciously. This wasn’t, the Logan from university... Her brows furrowed. Six packs? Really?

Lost in her thoughts, she didn’t notice the subtle shift in his breathing... or the slow quirk of his lips.

"Done feeling my body?"

Jean froze.

Her head snapped up... only to see Logan’s eyes open, a cocky smirk stretching across his face.

She yanked her hand back like she’d been electrocuted. "I... I wasn’t..."

"You were," he said, voice thick with sleep and amusement. "Not that I minded. Quite the wake-up call, Adams."

Her face flushed with heat. "You... you’re disgusting."

He yawned, stretching lazily like a satisfied cat. "You’re the one who had your hand halfway to my soul, sweetheart."

She turned away, mortified. "It was an accident."

"Sure," he said, eyes gleaming. "Next time, maybe try the other nipple. Keep things balanced."

Jean hurled a glare his way, but Logan only chuckled, clearly enjoying himself far too much.

"Shut up," she muttered, standing up in a flustered haze. "We have work to do."

"Right after you’re done groping me," he teased, rising to his feet.

She didn’t respond... but her ears were red, and Logan noticed every second of it.

They walked side by side through the forest, the air still damp from last night’s storm. Logan had a twig in his mouth, chewing on it like he was the most laid-back castaway ever. Jean, on the other hand, kept her eyes sharp... scanning for fruit, dry leaves, anything remotely useful.

"You know," Logan said, breaking the silence, "as flattering as it was waking up to your hand inside my shirt, I’m not sure freezing to death every night is the best way to keep the tradition going."

Jean shot him a look. "You’re never letting that go, are you?"

"Absolutely not," he grinned.

She sighed, but a ghost of a smile betrayed her irritation. "You’re not wrong about the cold though. The fire barely lasts. Our clothes are still damp and there’s no insulation."

"Hmm," Logan mused. "I could always keep volunteering my body warmth."

Jean rolled her eyes. "Tempting, but no."

"Come on," he said, nudging her with his elbow, "scientifically speaking, it’s the most efficient method. Body heat. Skin contact. We could even try..."

"Don’t you dare say ’sleep naked,’ Kingsley."

He smirked. "You said it, not me."

She groaned. "We need better solutions. Like a shelter. Something enclosed."

"Or we build a thicker fire pit. Surround it with rocks to trap the heat, maybe even make a barrier with palm leaves or something," Logan offered, this time actually serious.

Jean glanced at him. "Okay, that’s... not a bad idea. We could make a windbreak too, blocking the breeze from the beach."

"I also found some dry moss yesterday near the coconut grove. Might make decent insulation."

Jean blinked. "You actually paid attention to something that wasn’t my body?"

Logan chuckled. "Don’t give me too much credit. It was right next to your legs."

She smacked his arm. "Focus, Kingsley. Shelter, fire pit, insulation. Got it?"

He saluted dramatically. "Aye aye, boss lady."

Their feet crunched over fallen leaves as they continued forward, the playful mood settling into a quiet rhythm of teamwork.

And though neither of them admitted it, they both knew: tonight might still be cold... but it wouldn’t be as lonely.

By midday, they found a small clearing tucked between a cluster of trees... a perfect spot to shield them from the beach wind. Logan dropped the armful of dry branches he’d gathered and stretched his arms over his head with a satisfied sigh.

Jean tossed some palm leaves next to him. "Okay, we’ll use these to thatch the sides. It won’t be perfect, but at least it’ll stop the wind from biting through."

Logan picked up a thick branch. "Want me to sharpen the ends to make stakes?"

Jean glanced at him, then the ground. "Yeah. Start a square layout... we’ll tie everything together with that vine we found earlier."

As they worked, the sun peeked through the clouds, warming their backs. Jean knelt to arrange the leaves into tight bundles while Logan hammered the stakes into the ground.

She wiped her forehead and looked at him... he’d shed his coat, muscles straining with each strike of the makeshift hammer.

"Stop showing off," she muttered.

Logan looked over his shoulder, grinning. "You were staring."

"I was checking your technique."

"Right. My technique."

"Shut up and pass me that vine."

They started tying the leaves to the stakes, each of them pulling from opposite ends. At one point, Jean tugged too hard, and Logan stumbled forward, falling on top of her.

And their lips grazed.

Ever so slightly.

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