The Ruthless CEO's Revenge Wife
Chapter 75: KISS ME, IF YOU WANT ME

Chapter 75: KISS ME, IF YOU WANT ME

Logan circled her slowly, his gaze dragging over her like heat. Jean stood rooted in place, her back straight, refusing to show the chill crawling up her spine.

This wasn’t the Logan Kingsley she remembered... not the man who once shared a cave with her on a storm ravaged island, not the one who built fires with trembling hands and protected her when they had nothing but each other.

This Logan... was ice.

"Tell me something, Jean," he murmured, now behind her. "How far are you willing to go?"

Her shoulders tensed. "I already said I’d do whatever it takes."

"Words are cheap." He moved again, stepping in front of her. "Actions... now that’s where the truth lies."

She met his eyes, but her breath caught. There was something unreadable in them... calculated, cold, but with a flicker of something darker swimming beneath.

"I want to see how serious you are." He leaned in just slightly, his voice low. "Kiss me."

Jean blinked, confused. "What?"

"You heard me," he said plainly. "You came in here demanding marriage... fine. Show me what you’re really willing to offer."

Her pulse stuttered.

This was wrong.

Logan wasn’t like this... not before. Not when they were stranded and stripped of everything. That Logan had been human, almost kind. But now... now he was untouchable.

Ruthless.

His crisp suit, his office, the sharp edge in his voice... everything about him screamed power, and he was using every ounce of it against her.

Jean didn’t move. Her pride screamed at her to walk away. But if she did... she’d lose her only chance.

And Tyler would find her.

Slowly, Jean stepped forward, her heart hammering against her ribs. She didn’t speak. She didn’t beg.

She lifted her chin, placed a hand against Logan’s chest, and kissed him.

Not soft. Not hesitant. But not tender, either.

She just simply placed her lips on his cold ones and pulled away.

It was war.

And Logan felt every ounce of her desperation in that kiss. Every crack in her armor, every storm she was hiding behind her eyes. And for the first time in years... he felt something shift in his chest.

When she pulled back, her breath was shallow.

"There," she whispered. "Is that enough?"

Logan’s jaw tightened. He hadn’t expected her to actually do it.

He should’ve felt victorious.

But all he felt was the echo of her lips and the silent question she didn’t dare voice.

"Satisfied?" Jean asked, wiping her lips with the back of her hand. Her voice was low, laced with defiance.

Logan didn’t answer immediately. He just stared at her, stunned.

"You call that a kiss?" He scoffed, "even a teenager kisses better than you. Seems like you are not desperate enough."

His chest rose and fell with shallow breaths as he tried to process what had just happened.

Jean Adams had kissed him. Even if it was just her lips brushing his.

And not just out of affection, not even lust... no, she had kissed him like it was her only weapon. Like it was all she had left.

"The hell is wrong with you?" he muttered, stepping back. "You’re not thinking straight."

But even as he said it, the truth clawed at the back of his mind.

She was serious. She meant it. This wasn’t an impulsive outburst or some childish rebellion. Jean Adams, the woman who’d once treated him like he was invisible, had kissed him and declared war on fate itself.

He tried to regain control, shaking his head. "You need help. A doctor. Your feet are bleeding plus you are barefoot and don’t even get me started how disoriented you look..."

Jean surged forward, grabbing his shirt in her fists. Her eyes burned into his. "Don’t you dare walk out that door," she hissed. "I’m getting out of this room only after I become Mrs. Kingsley."

Logan stared at her, taken aback by her conviction.

He exhaled sharply, pinching the bridge of his nose. "We need time to think. This isn’t a coffee order, Jean. One doesn’t just get married by scribbling on a piece of paper..."

"I’m not going anywhere."

The steel in her voice made him groan in frustration. Without another word, he stepped forward and hoisted her over his shoulder like she weighed nothing.

"Logan!" she yelled, kicking. "What are you doing?"

"I’m taking you to a damn doctor," he snapped, striding toward the door. "You’re hurt, your foot’s bleeding, and honestly, I’m starting to think you’ve lost your mind."

But then, just as they reached the threshold, her voice broke.

"Please... I don’t want to go out. They’ll find me."

Logan stopped cold.

His heart skipped a beat at the crack in her voice... barely a whisper, but enough to peel away her anger and reveal something raw.

Real.

He slowly set her down.

"Jean..." His voice dropped. "Who? Who will find you?"

She stood trembling, her lip quivering. Her gaze darted to the door, to the windows. Every corner of the room now looked like a threat to her.

Logan looked at her... really looked at her... and finally saw it.

Not pride. Not arrogance. Not even desperation.

Fear.

And for the first time that night, he realized... This wasn’t about marriage.

This was about survival.

Jean didn’t answer right away. Her silence was loud, louder than any cry for help. Logan’s jaw tensed.

Without warning, he grabbed her arms and pulled her close... too close. So close she could feel the heat radiating off his body, the weight of his questions pressing into her skin.

"Tell me, Jean," he demanded, his voice low and sharp. "Is there something you’re afraid of?"

Her eyes fluttered shut.

She wanted to lie. She wanted to spin the story into something manageable, something less dangerous.

But being this close to him, feeling his breath mix with hers, it was impossible to think. The usual tactics failed her. Her mind couldn’t strategize, couldn’t twist the truth.

Logan’s grip tightened slightly. "I’m asking you something. Is it your family? Is that who you’re running from?"

Jean’s lips parted. She almost said it.

Yes.

She almost let it all out. But then she saw it... his eyes.

Calculating, perceptive. He wasn’t just asking. He was dissecting her. If she said too much, she’d hand him the very power she was trying to escape.

So instead, she whispered the only shield she had left.

"I won’t tell you anything until you marry me."