Semua Bab Betrayed By Husband And Son: Rise Of A Billionaire Wife : Bab 111 - Bab 120

Adele~My breath hitched as Detroit's hand tightened possessively on my waist, pressing me forward against the cold marble countertop. The chicken was still thawing in the sink, the faint trickle of water doing nothing to distract me from the way his fingers trailed down, grazing the curve of my hip before gripping my ass firmly again.“I—I’m supposed to wash and chop vegetables next,” I stammered, my voice barely steady. “Carrots, celery, onions. For the soup base.”“Sounds like a good start.” He grunted in my ear, “Let me help.” Without warning, his hand slipped beneath the hem of my blouse, sliding up the side of my waist, fingertips tracing teasing patterns over my skin.The heat pooling between my legs flared instantly. My pulse thundered as I bent my head, trying to focus on the pile of fresh vegetables before me. I washed them and grabbed a carrot and a peeler, peeling it slowly, but my hands wouldn't stop trembling.I swear to God, this man is something and I love…no, I'm obs

Adele~I dug a finger into the topping I'd whisked, about to taste it, or was that the reason? Only my lecherous mind knew. Or maybe Detroit too, because just as it reached my lips, about to open my mouth, he stopped me and brought the finger to his own lips, eyes locking mine in place. When his lips parted and my finger entered his warm, wet mouth that had already tasted me earlier, a shiver went straight through my spine. His tongue swept over the tip, slow and deliberate, as if savoring both the sweetness of the cream and the hint of my own taste lingering on my skin.My knees almost buckled when he closed his lips around my finger, slowing thrusting it in and out of his mouth, while his tongue flicked or wrapped around it and my little brain short-circuited for a moment. . I wasn’t sure if it was the tea still roaring through my veins or simply him, but my chest rose and fell faster, and every brush of his tongue sent another molten wave rolling through me.Detroit didn’t look a

Silver~She's eaten with family members before but something as happy as this, she's never had that. Her father sat at the head seat, Adele sat on his left and Silver sat on his right. God knew how long she'd waited to sit beside her father on a table. But he never stayed back for meals, unless it was the yearly Family Tree Ceremony, where always sat close to the head seat, as the heir. For Silver, eating alone, even with 200+ people around her, was boring and agonizing, especially with her grandmother sitting beside her with a face that never smiled unless she was planning someone's downfall.“Little Silver? Is the food not to your taste?” Adele's voice snapped the child out of her thoughts and she shook her head. “It's okay,” she said, digging into the salad. Everything was perfectly plated and the aroma promised a delicious meal, except that the cupcake looked a little… overdone. But she didn't seem to mind it. Her first bite, Adele watched carefully, like she was nervous. The

Adele~I shuffled back into the bedroom, towel wrapped around my steamy body, hair dripping warm water down my shoulders and back. Every step felt like I was damaging my holy core.Well, I didn’t want to nag myself to death but come on, I have a resort to run, things to do, errands to juggle, and God help me – PR work that required me to sit in a chair for hours without hissing like a cat in a bathtub.“And what am I supposed to wear?” I muttered, glancing around. The battlefield from last night had been wiped clean. No bra hanging off the lamp, no boxers clinging desperately to the door handle, and certainly no sex aroma in the air. Just perfume. An intoxicating Detroit perfume that only teased my brain and tingled my aching core. “Behave, little hoe,” I cursed, closing my legs and wincing when it stung. Then, there was the black shopping bag sitting innocently on the bed, glossy and expensive-looking. The luxury logo screamed money. I managed my way over, opened the bag and pulle

And such a woman, Adele had dared to unwittingly provoke. And she had dropped her unfinished business abroad to come home, all for the threat that Adele and Detroit's relationship has posed. It began with an auction appearance. Her son had allowed the photo he took with that divorcee to linger online for an entire hour. If she hadn’t ordered it removed, the image would still be paraded by gossip-mongers, feeding the illusion that Detroit West was entangled with someone other than the woman he was meant to marry. Then came the unverified, yet persistent reports that he was spending nights at the divorcee’s resort. Nights. The word itself dripped of scandal. If the Harringtons caught wind of it, the marriage talks with their heiress, Mia, would collapse instantly, and that would reek of trouble for the West. The country stood on three legs: West at the forefront, Harrington and Mercer trailing just behind, sharpening their knives in silence. A single misstep could tilt the balance,