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Chapter 68: The Poisoned Well & The Smoldering Embers
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2025-07-05 04:25:23
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Winning Her Back Chapter 68: The Poisoned Well & The Smoldering Embers
The fire crackled, its warmth suddenly useless against the cold terror Ethan's words had brought into the room. The spectral heat of his touch, the taste of his desperation still on my lips, the wild hunger he'd awakened low in my belly, it all curdled into a sickening chill, replaced in an instant by a surge of scorching, seductive disbelief at what Ethan just said. Julian? He was really scraping the bottom of his vindictive barrel now."Julian?" The name dripped from my lips, covered in a sarcasm as sweet as it was venomous. I stepped away from the mantel with cultivated ease, the cold stone a rough counterpoint to the fire that continued to simmer under my skin. I turned all the way around to face him, letting my eyes travel slowly, insolently, up the rigid line of his body from the satellite phone clutched in his white-knuckled hand, lingering on the tense set of his jaw, to meet his icy blue eyes. A slow, provocative smile curved my lips. "Darling, really? The best you can do?" M
Winning Her Back Chapter 67: Talk
It wasn't a kiss; it was a taking. Violent, wild, fueled by months of pent-up anger, betrayal, and this suffocating proximity. It was all teeth and tongue and desperate hunger, a mirror of the storm outside. I met him with the same ferocity, my hands flying up to grasp his shoulders, my fingers digging into the hard muscle beneath his sweater. His taste, coffee, scotch, and pure Ethan inundated my senses, intoxicating and familiar.He moaned into my mouth, a low, primitive sound that vibrated through me. His other arm wrapped around my waist, dragging me out of the chair and into him. The solid wall of his chest crushed against mine, his erection rigid and insistent against my stomach. The world narrowed to the heat of his body, the demanding pressure of his mouth, the desperate slide of his tongue against mine.We stumbled backward, wrapped around each other, until my back hit the cold stone of the fireplace mantelpiece. My back burned from the fire behind me, in contrast to the fire
Winning Her Back Chapter 66: The snowbound siege
The silence after the gala wasn't peace; it was the tense hush before the avalanche. Days bled into each other within the gilded cage, marked only by the brittle exchanges over breakfast, the weight of Ethan’s icy gaze across rooms, and the echo of that unfinished waltz thrumming beneath my skin. The victory of the dance floor felt hollow, countered by his chilling withdrawal. He hadn’t touched me, hadn’t spoken beyond necessities, yet his presence was a constant, oppressive force, the air crackling with unsaid words and banked fire.Then, the world turned white.It started subtly, fat, lazy flakes drifting past the windows. By afternoon, it was a relentless, swirling fury, a blizzard of biblical proportions. The city outside vanished, swallowed by a monochrome maelstrom. Wind howled like a banshee around the stone walls, rattling windows in their frames. The power flickered, died, and stayed dead, plunging the vast mansion into a twilight lit only by the dying embers of the library f
Winning Her Back Chapter 65: The gilded cage waltz
The echo of Ethan’s enraged roar had faded, replaced by an unnerving, heavy silence that pressed against the locked door of my room. Leaning against the cool wood, the tremors finally subsided, leaving a hollow exhaustion warring with the fierce, intoxicating triumph humming in my veins. I had done it. I had shattered his glacial control, exposed the raw, desperate need beneath the armor of arrogance. The taste of power, sharp and sweet as forbidden fruit, lingered on my tongue, mingling with the phantom musk of him.A long, scalding shower did little to cleanse the memory, only seeming to amplify the sensory echoes: the scrape of his stubble, the heat of his skin beneath my palms, the guttural sounds torn from his throat. I dressed mechanically in soft lounge wear, armor against the invisible battle lines drawn through the house. Hours bled away in the suffocating quiet. No summons. No slammed doors. Just the oppressive weight of *waiting*. What form would his retaliation take? The s
Winning Her Back Chapter 64: The aftermath of the brink
The silence after I rose wasn't empty. It was a physical entity, thick and humming, saturated with the ragged symphony of Ethan's breathing, the frantic, visible pulse beating at the base of his throat, and the sheer, radiating heat of his denied arousal. He stood frozen, half-clad, magnificent in his ruined state, the crisp white shirt a puddle on the floor beside his discarded trousers. His chest heaved, sweat glistening on the defined planes, catching the low light. His eyes, wide and dark as a midnight storm, were locked on mine, stripped bare of their usual icy control. Shock warred with a primal, searing frustration, a raw vulnerability I’d never witnessed before. The mask wasn't just cracked; it was obliterated.My own breath came fast, adrenaline a live wire under my skin, warring with the icy coil of triumph in my veins. The taste of him, musky and salt-sharp, lingered on my lips and tongue, a visceral reminder of the power I’d just wielded. My scalp tingled where his fingers
Winning Her Back Chapter 63: The edge of the blade
His mouth came crashing down on mine, a meteorite of passion, obliterating the gasping inch of air between us. Not the strategic triumph of the other night. This was raw, uncontrolled, a wildfire of jealousy, confusion, and the chilling collapse of his iron control. He exuded desperation, a warm heat against my skin, his lips demanding proof, reassurance, the regaining of a dominance I'd gladly shaken.For a suspended heartbeat, I braced. The residual heat of high-quality scotch and his proprietary, intoxicating scent; cedar, spice, and raw, male Ethan battered my senses. The question blazed in his storm-cloud eyes, inches from mine.Surrender? Rebellion? Or something far more treacherous? The edge lay out, promising searing oblivion or shattering ice.And then the strategist in me overrode, cold and furious under the crest of sensory barrage. This was the power I'd been looking for. This was the weakness exposed by my game with Julian. I wouldn't just give in; I would claim this fir
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