Married To My Billionaire Nemesis
He swallows hard, his throat working visibly.
I reach into my bag, pull out my favourite red lipstick, and uncap it with purposeful slowness. His eyes track every movement. I lean closer, twist the tube up, and drag the colour across my bottom lip in one smooth stroke. Then the top. I press my lips together, smacking them once.
“You can look," I murmur, capping the tube again, "but you can't touch."
He bites his lower lip so hard, it turns red. Pain flashes across his face in its unadulterated form.