Novel & Cerita Books Like Unwanted Wife

However, that might be a fucking lie, because I’ve been losing grasp of the word concentration since I made this chaotic girl my wife. She never misses a chance to barge into my thoughts uninvited. Whenever I’m working, in a meeting, or even in court, I think about her on my desk with her legs wide apart as she moans my name and tells me she’s been a naughty girl and wants me to teach her how she can be a good girl. Though she doesn’t genuinely mean that, considering she’s constantly being naughty in one way or another. And I can’t stop thinking about that, about her hidden tendencies and sweet taste. I haven’t been able to stop since the first time.

Mine had already drained away, replaced by something colder, heavier—worry. My thoughts spun as I stared out the window. I couldn’t keep clashing with him like this. That ridiculous book, The Perfect Wife, flashed through my mind—its chapters on handling dominant men. Softness. Vulnerability. Subtle rebellion. A woman with fire, but without the flames. Sweet enough to draw in. Dangerous enough to chase.

A shadow of the sister you actually wanted. You never wanted me. You made that clear every single day — with your silence, your cruelty, your words, and your actions. You compared me to Lia in every possible way. You humiliated me in front of guests. You locked me in a room like an animal. You slept with my sister while I was in the same house. I tried to be the wife you needed. I really did. But I’m tired of being unwanted. Tired of being invisible. Tired of crying myself to sleep wondering what I did wrong.

He hugged me more tightly and said gently, "You can trust me, Natalie. Tell me whatever's frustrating you." I sighed heavily and said, "It's about one of my friends." He picked me up and cradled me against his chest, then sat on the bed and placed me in his lap, saying, "Go on, I'm here to listen." I avoided his curious gaze and mumbled, "She got pregnant by accident, and her husband is forcing her to have an abortion.” I lifted my gaze at him to read his expression. He asked nonchalantly, "Why doesn't he want his WIFE to get pregnant?" Focusing on the word "wife.”

Christin said, "Girls like to read domineering CEO related romance novels. Dear guys, please read them carefully, study them, and try your best to please or flatter your wife. This is a catalogue of a collection of series I specially chose of storylines about how to spoil the girlfriend. I excluded those storylines that break somebody's heart as I definitely couldn't bear to do that. George was speechless. Lucas said, "Haha! I saw Lizzy reading something about a pregnant wife..." Charles asked, "Will I be able to win my wife's heart after reading them?" Christin said, "Maybe. I'd suggest you have a look. Anyway, it can't get any worse than your current situation." Charles was stunned. Christ

And there was only ever one answer to that wanting. Kyle Branson. I wanted him before I knew what wanting really meant. Before I understood that desire could be a trap as much as a gift. Before I learned that the heart doesn't care about logic, about self-preservation, about all the sensible reasons why you should walk away. I wanted him so badly that I made a stupid decision. You know what happened next. You've been here for all of it—the contract marriage, the betrayal, the fall down the stairs, the loss, the divorce, the four years of raising two children alone while the man I loved pretended to be dead.

I took my luggage that I already placed on the side of the closet owned by my husband, and then I pulled it beside our bed. I sat on our bed and gently opened my luggage. I took out what was inside one by one to put it in my husband's closet when I remembered that my husband does not want his belongings to be touch. "Huuhh," I sighed. "It was so hard," I said. "If my husband does not want his belongings to be touched, where can I put my things? But wait, I am his wife, so that is mean that I also have rights here, so why am I afraid to put my things here in his closet? But he is scary! Oh my, think I am going crazy here." I said to myself.

Cassie murmured, curling into my chest. Her words froze me. She’d been pressing that topic lately, but she didn’t understand. I was enjoying our dangerous little secret, but my marriage to her mother wasn’t love…it was business. And business always came first. “Let’s not talk about this.” My tone was sharper than I intended. I pushed off the bed, but her frown deepened. Cassie always hated being in her mother’s shadow. Sometimes I wondered if fucking me was her way of winning. Her prize. Her rebellion. But it couldn’t change the truth: I wasn’t throwing away the contract for her.