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2025-05-14 23:31:32
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Capturing Viola: His Wife Is Mine Title
Viola McCoyMy head is pounding as my eyes flutter open. Light filters through the curtains in soft golden streaks. My mouth tastes stale, and there's a dull ache at the base of my skull, pulsing in rhythm with my heartbeat. It takes me a moment to piece together where I am, why I’m here, and why my chest feels so heavy. I sit up slowly, the world tilting for a second before it steadies. The room smells faintly of cologne—Logan’s cologne. That clean, masculine scent still lingers in the air like he never left. He brought me back last night. That part I remember. His arms around me, solid and warm. The way I melted into his chest.My gaze shifts, and I freeze.Julian stands by the dresser in a crisp white suit and tie, straightening his cuffs. His reflection in the mirror is calm, almost pleased. Like nothing happened. Like everything is fine.My mouth is dry as I ask, “Where are you going?”He turns, adjusting his tie, eyes unreadable. “You’re awake?”I nod, my stomach churning w
Capturing Viola: His Wife Is Mine Lovers bridge
Logan Reynolds I haven’t slept all night.The mattress beneath me feels too firm. The ceiling too white. The sheets too loud. My thoughts? Even louder. I toss again, dragging a hand down my face. My skin feels tight, dry from the air conditioner.Viola.Her name is like a bruise in my chest. Aching, impossible to ignore.I shouldn’t have kissed her like that. I shouldn't have said what I said. Run away with me? What the hell was I thinking? Who says something like that in the middle of… whatever that was? I was caught up. Lost in her. And then I saw her panic and bolt, like the air had been sucked out of her lungs the second the words left mine.I left her alone. Dammit.I sit up, rubbing my temple. Maybe it was a mistake—leaving her. I thought I was giving her space. Trying to respect her boundaries. But what if she thought I was abandoning her?She’s still married.I hate the way that tastes in my mouth. Like ash.The light peeks through the curtains now. Thin beams of gol
Capturing Viola: His Wife Is Mine You
Viola McCoy I slam the door behind me and lock it.My back hits the wood, and I slide to the floor like I’ve been shot in the chest. The sob that escapes me is raw and sudden, like it’s been sitting in my throat for years just waiting for a chance to scream its way out.The room is dim—one of the guest suites with golden wallpaper. The bed’s still made. The lights are off except for the lamp in the corner. It smells like polished furniture and roses. I pull my knees to my chest.And then I cry.I cry like my body’s collapsing inward. Like every ounce of strength I’ve faked for years is melting out of me and I can’t stop it. It’s not even graceful. It’s ugly, heaving, snotty, shoulder-shaking grief. The kind that steals your breath and leaves your chest hollow.I cover my mouth with my hand to muffle the sounds, but I don’t think anyone’s listening.Good.Let them have their damn cake-covered disaster. Let them stand there stunned while I fall apart in peace.My cheek still sti
Capturing Viola: His Wife Is Mine Sh*t
Logan Reynolds I pull back a little, trying not to get lost in the drunken taste of this woman in front of me. Her cheeks are flushed. And she’s panting a bit.God knows how much I’m trying to control myself right now. I want her to feel safe with me, I don’t her to think I’m taking advantage of the situation. But it’s hard to hold back when she’s staring at me like that. She also doesn’t move. She continues to stare blankly at me and I interpret that as an agreement. My mouth hovered over hers, giving her one last chance to pull away.When she doesn’t, I close the remaining distance again and brush her lips with the lightest of kisses. It’s so soft, it counts more as a graze than a kiss, but it detonates every emotion I’ve tried so hard to bury. Pain, longing, regret, love. No one could make me feel as much or as deeply as Viola does, and any control I might’ve had left snaps at her nearly inaudible sigh of pleasure.I deepen the kiss, my mouth molding to hers with an ease. M
Capturing Viola: His Wife Is Mine Kiss
Viola McCoy I finally pull back from the hug, breathless and shivering. Rain drips from Logan’s hair, his eyes glossy and dark with worry. His jacket is soaked, clinging to his broad shoulders, and his fingers twitch at his sides like he’s not sure if he should reach for me again.“What are you doing here?” I whisper, my voice rasped from the storm of panic that had only just begun to settle.“I was worried about you,” he says, his gaze searching mine.I step aside, my fingers trembling as I reach for the door and lock it behind him with an audible click. My whole body is humming from fear and adrenaline and something I can’t name when he’s near. I grab the towel from the dresser and hand it to him wordlessly.He runs it through his hair in slow, rough movements, droplets still falling to the hardwood floor. I stare a second too long before blinking myself back to reality.“Did you drive in this rain?” I ask, crossing my arms. I don’t mean for it to sound like I’m scolding him,
Capturing Viola: His Wife Is Mine Rescue
Viola McCoy I’m curled up by the window, knees drawn to my chest, drowning in Logan’s hoodie. It’s huge on me—swallows my whole frame—but that’s exactly why I brought it. It smells like him. Still. That warm, musky cologne he always wears, like cedarwood and something a little darker. Masculine. Safe.I breathe it in again. Deep. Like it’s oxygen.The rain hasn’t let up since last night. It’s soft now, more like a hush against the glass, but every so often the wind picks up and rattles the panes, like the weather can’t decide if it’s mourning or angry. The sky outside is gunmetal gray, streaked with silver. It’s quiet here. For most of the day, that peace has been a comfort. I’ve needed it. Needed to disappear. Needed to feel like I’m not someone's wife, not someone's problem, not trapped in a life I keep pretending is fine. I didn’t want to answer to anyone. Not Julian. Not even Logan.But now…I hear the bell.A soft ding. Room service maybe. I didn’t order anything, but ma
Capturing Viola: His Wife Is Mine Searching
Logan Reynolds. I’m pacing.Back and forth across my office, wearing down the Persian rug with every step. My jaw’s tight. My palms are damp. Viola’s phone has been off since last night—last night—and I’ve gone from frustrated to worried to this barely-contained kind of panic that’s starting to settle in my chest like cement.Twenty-four hours.No calls. No texts. No damn read receipts. Just silence.I tried Amirah this morning—twice. Sent messages. Called. Even dropped by her place like some lunatic boyfriend from a bad rom-com. Nobody answered. The lights were off. No sound. No trace. I even checked the mail slot like some detective trying to piece shit together from shadows.It’s not like her. Or her either.So I did what any desperate man would do—I pulled some strings. I asked one of my guys in digital to dig up where Amirah works. He said he’d get back to me in an hour.That was six hours ago.I glance at the clock. 6:57 p.m.I grip the edge of my desk, knuckles whitening.
Capturing Viola: His Wife Is Mine Aspenwood Hill Resort
Viola McCoy I place the last jacket in my bag—the soft cream one with the oversized collar I almost didn’t bring. It still smells faintly like lavender and airport perfume. I smooth it once before folding it neatly. This is it. Three days back in Chicago and I’m already packing up again, but this time… it’s just me.No Julian.No Logan.No chaos.Just me.Amirah walks into the room holding a scarf. It’s navy blue.“You’re gonna need this,” she says, like she already knows where I’m going before I do. She tucks it into the corner of my suitcase without waiting for me to answer.I smile at her. “Thanks.”She crosses her arms. “So you’re really not going to tell Logan?”I let out a soft sigh and kneel down, zipping my suitcase slowly, as if maybe dragging it out will make this conversation vanish.“You know how he can be,” I say quietly. “If I tell him, he’ll want to come. Or he’ll show up anyway.”“Yeah…” Amirah nods, her lips pursing. “I get it. But what if he comes looking for
Capturing Viola: His Wife Is Mine Freedom?
Viola McCoy I finally pull away from Logan’s hug.His warmth lingers on my skin like sunlight after a long winter. I ctually feel safe. Like nothing’s going to jump out from the shadows and pull me under. I sit down on the edge of the bed. Logan stands there for a moment, searching my face. Then he says gently, “I’ll make you a cup of tea.”I nod.He disappears into the small hotel kitchenette, and I’m left alone with the soft hum of the mini fridge and the dull ache behind my eyes. I lean back against the pillows, pulling the hotel blanket around me. Still, I can’t stop thinking about what I told Amirah.The guilt swells in my chest like a balloon.I told her—between sobs and silence—that when we get back to Chicago, I want to take a few days for myself. To disappear. Just a little. Just long enough to clear my head. No noise. No men. No past. Just me, a new city maybe, a quiet hotel, something warm and still. But I haven’t told Logan yet. I don’t want to. I already know he’ll
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