Bossy Husband Who Loved Me นิยาย & เรื่องราว

I feel like I have been talking for hours, I am surprised he is still listening with full concentration. "People love in different ways, maybe that's his way of loving you." He should do this professionally when he stops playing basketball. "I know my husband loves me, it's not even used for debate but he is so passive at showing it." Right from the beginning, I get it he is shy but how long is he going to be shy? We are fucking married. I stretched my legs sitting down comfortably on the elevator's floor with Wilder beside me. "Can you believe my husband has never gotten possessive over me, gotten jealous or ever had to fight for me?" Like seriously dude, I am a fucking hottie.

Then why’s he mowing at me like that? “What about you?” His voice is gentle, almost caressing, but that’s not the case. “It’s not about Yosef, the men, or your Mom.” I breathe as he pulls me into his chest. Nicotine. Whiskey. And all the oil fuelling this fire. “I’m not asking you as Bunny or Carlton. But as my husband.” I tried to wiggle out of his grip, but he won’t let me go. As my balls ache and heart bleeds, I realize I’m the love-sick one here.

She’s not my wife. With a hand over my chest, I typed. Who’s your wife then? Crazy Hot Boss: I don’t have a wife. But I’ll soon take one. I picked a pillow, pressing it softly to my face to stifle my laugh. I feel like you don’t respect me enough. You don’t trust me. It hurts. Crazy Hot Boss: I do respect and trust you. What we had was a misunderstanding. It wasn’t even a serious issue. You know I said that out of anger.

“You can thank me by spending the rest of your life loving me. And I will never get bored.” I giggled wrapping my arms around him as I nuzzled into his chest. I was being over dramatic for nothing. I should learn to cherish things as long as I could. Who know what time come and I’d have to let go of them. But for now, no worry or concern bothered. It was just me and my Italian mafia boss a.ka. my husband. My Silvio.

His hand comes to my ass, where he gives it a firm squeeze. I push him away once more, and finally he lets go. I take a deep breath, pulling the air to me. "What are you doing?" "You are my wife. Or have you forgotten that already?" his voice comes out hate laden. That's all this man knows how to feel, hatred and anger. He is bitter and doesn't know how to love anyone. All Boris feels for me is obsession. And obsession is not love. "Let's go!" I open the car door and get in.

Then He stopped to look into my eyes from the reflection of the glass, "I will not be able to live without you anymore." I bit my lip to hold back the emotions that filled my heart. This is Nick's way of saying he loves me too. "I know." I replied in a hoarse voice. He smiled for the first time today then let go of the hug. When he held me his finger hooked on mine. "Now it's time to go home."

I get in front of her and grab her arms to keep her there, "He's my husband, he cheated ON ME. He stopped loving ME, not you. He'll always be your dad and I promise, he loves you with his life. You can be mad at him and I hope you are because what he did is fucked up... but he's still your dad, okay? And he's a good one. So, don't forget that just because he messed up with me. Me and you hold very different positions in his life, we're not the same." Bobbie snarls and scoffs, not saying anything. "Can we go home? I don't feel like going to the center right now," she murmurs, looking away from me, her fists clenched, "I don't want to see him." "You can always take any time off, Bobbie," I rem

He will be the center of our marriage, and everything will be fine after that. When I decided to love my boss, I knew that it was His plan all along.

And just like that, the hand I’d unknowingly been clutching slips from mine. "You can’t even take care of yourself properly," he mutters, voice stern. "Always crying." His fingers graze my forehead, checking for fever—but it’s that warmth that makes my chest tighten, not the touch itself. I catch his hand again, holding it to my cheek and rubbing softly as I pout. "Well, it seems my husband has made it his mission to stress his wife… what can I do?" He pulls his hand free and rises to his feet like the moment never happened.