Secretly In-Love with my Estranged Husband

The pen hovered over the last signature line.

Naomi’s fingers trembled while she forced herself to press the ink onto the page, the final step in dissolving five years of marriage. Across the brown mahogany table, Ethan Carter sat still, his sharp jaw clenched with his eyes locked on hers with an intensity that made her pulse quicken.

She tried to ignore the way his expensive cologne still sent a shiver down her spine. She also tried to forget the countless nights she had spent in his arms, tangled in silk sheets, legs spread across his body, whispering promises that had all crumbled to dust.

The lawyer cleared his throat. "Ern ern, Mrs. Bennett…" He corrected himself. "Miss Bennett. Just the last page now." He said.

Naomi exhaled sharply. It’s just a signature. Just ink on paper. But as she signed her name, she couldn’t ignore the way it felt, like carving a wound so deep it might never heal. Did she still love him?

As she slid the document across the table to Ethan, he took it without hesitation. No hesitation, because, of course, he was ready to let her go wholeheartedly. Of course, he will move on like their love had been nothing but a transaction.

His hand moved swiftly as he signed his name, fast and thick. Then, with one final stroke, it was done.

Final. Official. Over.

Or so she thought.

As the lawyer gathered the documents, Naomi pushed back her chair, eager to escape. But before she could stand, Ethan’s voice cut through the air.

"Wait."

Her heart skipped. She hated that it still did that.

She looked up, forcing her expression into something neutral. "What?"

Ethan leaned forward, his voice low and dangerous. "One last conversation. Just you and me."

Naomi hesitated. She knew better than to let herself be alone with him. He had always had a way of unraveling her defenses, of making her forget why they had fallen apart in the first place.

But against every ounce of logic, she nodded.

"Fine. Five minutes." She agreed.

His lips curved into a smirk, the same damn smirk that used to drive her crazy in more ways than one.

"This isn’t the kind of conversation you can time, Naomi."

Naomi followed Ethan into his private office, the same one where so many fights had started, and so many apologies had ended in tangled sheets. The moment the door clicked shut, she felt the weight of her undying love for him pressing in.

Ethan leaned against his desk, watching her with the kind of gaze that stripped her bare even when she was fully clothed.

"Why are we here, Ethan?" she asked, crossing her arms. "You got what you wanted. Papers signed, marriage over. What now?" She said, trying to sound frantic.

His jaw tightened. "Is that what you think? That this is what I wanted?"

Naomi scoffed. "You didn’t exactly fight to stop it." “Or did you?”

“I dare you to speak up”, looking at him with eyes staring up. Of course he was taller than she was.

Ethan pushed off the desk and closed the distance between them in two strides. His scent. Expensive whiskey and something purely him hit her hard. "You left, Naomi. You walked away first. Don’t rewrite history just because it hurts."

She glared up at him. "I left because I was tired of coming second to your empire. To your goddamn board meetings, your deals. You hear me? I was bored out, not like you cared…"

"I built that empire for us," he interrupted, his voice low, raw.

Naomi shook her head. "For us?" She let out a bitter laugh. "Ethan, you treated our marriage like a business merger. Love doesn’t work on stock market hours my dear Ethan." She resounded.

His hand came up, fingers ghosting over her jawline. It was a touch so familiar, so devastatingly intimate, that it sent a shiver through her body.

"Then why," he murmured, tilting her chin up, "do you still react to me like this?"

She should have pushed him away. She should have turned and walked out. But instead, she stood there, trapped between anger and something she needed, which was the desire to be with him.

She felt his breath against her lips. "Tell me to stop," he dared.

Naomi swallowed hard. "I should."

"But you won’t," Ethan finished for her.

And then, he kissed her.

Not soft. Not gentle. This was the kind of kiss that came with years of frustration, of longing, of all the words they had never said. His hand slid into her hair, tilting her head back as he devoured her mouth, taking and taking, as if he could rewrite the past with his lips alone.

Naomi gasped against him, her body betraying every logical thought she had. She pushed him hard, not away, but against the desk, her hands gripping the lapels of his suit.

"One last time," she whispered against his mouth, half in challenge, half in surrender.

Ethan’s eyes darkened. "Naomi, don’t play with me."

"One last time," she repeated, pulling at his tie. "Then we walk away. For real."

The look he gave her was pure sin. "You still think you can have me once and forget me?"

But he didn’t wait for her answer. Instead, he spun her around, pressing her against the cold glass of the office window, his hands already working on the zipper of her dress.

"Let’s see if you still believe that when I’m done with you," he murmured against her neck.

The city lights stretched beneath them, but Naomi barely noticed the glittering skyline through the fog of her own ragged breath. The cold glass pressed against her exposed skin, a sharp contrast to the heat of Ethan’s body behind her.

Her purple dress pooled around her feet in a heap of expensive silk, and she felt the ghost of his fingers tracing the line of her spine. He was taking his time, torturing her with every slow, deliberate touch.

"You always did like teasing," she murmured, trying to sound unaffected. Mmm...She moaned softly.

Ethan chuckled, his breath warm against her shoulder. "I like making you desperate."

Naomi bit her lip, refusing to give him the satisfaction of a response. But when his lips found the sensitive spot beneath her ear, she couldn’t hold back the sharp inhale that betrayed her. Ahh… The stream of air, labeled “Desire,” flowed through her lips, forming more fog on the office glass she faced.

Meanwhile, Ethan’s hands were engaged in full combat, skimming down her waist, settling on her hips before pulling her flush against him. Even through the layers of his tailored suit, she could feel how much he wanted her.

"Tell me to stop," he said again, but this time, it wasn’t a dare.

Naomi’s nails dug into the glass as she met his gaze in the reflection. "Don’t you dare."

That was all the permission he needed. He needed to be sure it wouldn’t be a case of rape after the fun.

In one fluid motion, he turned her around, lifting her onto his desk. Her legs wrapped around his waist instinctively, bringing him closer, pressing her against the evidence of his restraint slipping.

His hands pushed open the buttons of his shirt—hers next. There was nothing careful about the way he touched her. This wasn’t about love or reconciliation. This was a battle. A reckless, desperate attempt to consume each other before the reality of what they’d done could sink in.

Naomi tugged his tie free, looping it around her wrist and using it to pull him down to her lips. Their kiss was all teeth and heat, an unspoken challenge, that felt like who will break first?

"You’re still stubborn as hell," he murmured against her mouth, fingers digging into her thighs.

"And you’re still arrogant," she shot back, reaching between them to unbuckle his belt. "Let’s call it even."

He smirked. "Not even close."

With a swift movement, he gripped her hips and dragged her forward until she was teetering on the edge of the desk, her breath catching as he pressed against her.

"This doesn’t change anything," she whispered, but the tremor in her voice betrayed her.

Ethan’s fingers tilted her chin up, forcing her to look at him. "Then why do you look like you want it to?"

She didn’t answer. Instead, she kissed him again, because if she spoke, she might say something she wasn’t ready to admit.

And just like that, the rest of the world disappeared right before her into thin air. She was lost in desire.