All Chapters of Winning Back My Pregnant Wife: Chapter 41 - Chapter 50

SarahSarah’s mouth snapped shut, the sharp retort she’d been preparing dying in her throat. The sudden shift in his tone sent a confusing ripple of warmth through her, one that had nothing to do with the inn’s heating. Her silence actually made Marcus look back over his shoulder, his brow furrowing.“No arguments?” he asked, sounding genuinely surprised. “I’m shocked. I thought it was your personal mission to fight me on every single thing today.”Sarah scoffed, hugging the thick sweatshirt to her chest like a shield. She slid her hands into the fleece lining, almost moaning at the softness against her frozen skin. “I wouldn’t call it arguing,” she countered. “I’d call it pointing out the obvious—like how we shouldn't have been playing chicken with a blizzard on mountain roads.”Marcus didn't take the bait. Instead, he pulled a set of plaid pajamas from the rack, checking the size. A frustrated grunt left his chest. Sarah fought the urge to grin as she looked at the set in his hands.

MarcusThe lines deepened between her eyebrows, her mouth opening to launch another protest. "What do you—"Marcus didn't give her the chance to finish. He moved before his brain could talk him out of it, catching her around the waist and heaving her over his shoulder. She was heavier than usual, her clothes weighted down by the freezing slush, but it didn't matter. He had enough raw strength to handle her, and right now, that strength was the only thing keeping him from vibrating out of his skin with sheer frustration.She didn't go quietly. Of course she didn't. Her legs kicked against his chest, and her fists began a rhythmic drumming against his lower back."What the fuck, Marcus!" she shrieked, her voice echoing off the bathroom’s dated tile. "Put me down! You can't just haul me around like a caveman because I’m not doing what you want!"Marcus ignored the insults, his jaw set in a hard line as he stepped over the threshold of the shower. The steam was already thick in the air, a

GenevieveGenevieve continued the Google search she had started previously, her eyes narrowing as she filtered through potential investment advisers. She had narrowed the list down to four candidates, each one more unappealing than the last until she reached the final entry.First was a man named Broderick. He was middle-aged and bald, his bio emphasizing "personal relationships" with his clients—a phrasing that made Genevieve instantly suspect he suffered from chronic halitosis and high blood pressure. Next was Lombardi, a man specializing in "wealth management." He sported a full-wattage, plastic smile and a waxy complexion that made him look like he should be peddling carpet shampoo on a late-night infomercial rather than handling millions. Then there was Bowers, a bookish man with a cluster of initials trailing after his name like a tail. He offered "full-service wealth management and security," which Genevieve translated as a thinly veiled attempt to upsell her on insurance. With

SarahSarah was completely and utterly fucked. Metaphorically, at least.Physically? She hoped to be by the end of all this.She watched Marcus’s tongue peek out to wet his lips, silently applauding herself for how long she had managed to fight the undeniable chemistry crackling between them. She had given denying him a good try, sticking to her guns for longer than she’d expected to. But at the end of the day, she was tired of having wet dreams about her boss—her fake husband, her ex-husband’s business rival. She was finally ready for him to make good on every dirty threat he’d ever made.Sarah was ready for Marcus Kane to fuck her. She wanted to know what it felt like for him to bury himself inside her. She was desperate to feel all of him, to know nothing but him filling her as deep as she could take him.His thumb ran over the spot he had just licked. She’d half expected him to fly across the room and have her bent over the second he saw her naked. At the very least, she’d expecte

JulianSarah slid off the bed, her movements fluid and agonizingly slow. Marcus fought the sudden, violent urge to grab her and say to hell with the begging. He wanted to taste her orgasm on his lips, to feel her pulsating against his tongue before he ever buried his cock in her.The problem was, Marcus was a proud man. When he told her she’d have to beg for it, he had meant it in the moment. He wasn’t someone to go back on his word, so instead of licking and lapping at her, he took a seat on the edge of the bed. He flicked his eyes to the open space between the TV console and the bed.“Go over there and get on your knees.”Sarah looked at the open space cautiously, her fingers absentmindedly drifting to her pussy, running through the wetness he had created.Marcus clicked his tongue, his hand running down his shaft. “Not so fast. You’re not allowed to touch yourself right now.”She worked her bottom lip between her teeth. He expected her to argue—she usually did—but for once, she did