Falling For My Accidental CEO Husband-Chapter 307: An Apology Or?

Ella, if you cannot do it, just step back now. Don’t waste my time."

Her heart, already racing, seemed to lurch and then stall as the words landed. She stared at the man in front of her, at the sharp planes of his face and the coldness in his eyes, at the way his shirt hung open, revealing a chest as unmoved as his voice. He was watching her—expression unreadable, arms loosely by his sides, waiting to see if she’d crumble.

"I am trying," she said, her voice cracking, thin with frustration. "But I can’t..."

He didn’t soften even a little.

"Stop thinking for yourself," he said. "Be selfish. Be true to yourself. That should come naturally to you—since you only thought of yourself when you tried to harm Serena."

That stung.

The words hit harder than any blow could have. Ella stiffened, her breath catching painfully in her throat. She knew what she had done. She knew. She had been selfish, blind, careless. She had hurt people—hurt Serena—and she had been trying, every single day since, to make amends.

But he didn’t care about any of that. Not her guilt. Not her effort. Not the shaking, miserable hours she had spent picking through her mistakes and trying to rebuild what she’d broken.

Didn’t he see she was already punishing herself?

Apparently not. And something in her snapped.

Before she could stop herself, before the thought could fully form in her mind, her hand moved. It lashed out, sharp and sudden, and cracked against his cheek with a force that echoed through the room.

Silence fell.

He didn’t touch his face. Didn’t recoil. Just turned his head slowly back toward her, eyes still locked on hers- colder and harder now.

Ella felt the tremor in her own chest. A flicker of panic surged up-what have I done?-but it was quickly smothered by something else. Something quieter, deeper. Steady.

He was waiting. Staring her down with the same dispassionate look as before, as if daring her to flinch.

She didn’t.

Her heart trembled but she held her ground.

She almost said it—I’m sorry—the instinct bubbling to her lips, but something inside her stopped the words from spilling out. Not this time.

In the next moment, she raised her hand and traced his cheek. From there, her fingers slid up into his hair, tangling themselves in the thick strands at the nape of his neck. He didn’t speak. Didn’t resist. But she felt the subtle stiffening of his body, the sharp rise of his chest, and she knew she had his full attention now ashe continued to stare at her impassively, waiting for her next move.

Then, without warning, she tugged. Hard. His neck snapped backwards and yet, he continued to stare at her with his eyes half closed, still challenging her. Her heart beating fast, she pushed at his shoulder, so that he was forced to kneel in front of her as she said," Do you think just touching you is pleasurable to me?" freёweɓnovel_com

He dropped to his knees with a controlled thud, but even then, his eyes never wavered from hers. Cold. Defiant. Watching. Daring her to falter.

Ella didn’t. She couldn’t afford to falter.

Her hand slipped free from his hair, only to return a second later-fisting it tighter this time, dragging his head back so he was forced to look up at her. The angle exposed his throat, the curve of his collarbone, the steady beat just under the skin. She felt a flicker of something- not desire, not compassion, but possession. A tightening coil inside her that gave her a different kind of pleasure. She knew that he was stronger, but seeing him like this, at her mercy, was a different kind of pleasure.

Then she moved slowly and deliberately, walking around him, trailing her fingertips across his bare shoulders as she circled like a predator appraising her claim.. She pulled back the half open shirt and nudged at his arm. He caught the clue, putting his arms behind his back as she stood there behind him.

Her hand ran down his spine, slowly caressing him, as if appreciating him for being good and listening to her command. She knelt down behind him then and even though he didn’t turn back, she knew he was aware of every movement.

She exhaled softly, just enough for her breath to stir the fine hairs at the nape of his neck. Then, without a word, she brought both hands forward, sliding them around his torso—snaking beneath his arms, her palms flat against the bare skin of his chest. One slow stroke downward, then back up, her fingertips pressing just hard enough to make his body tense in response.

He inhaled.

Still, he said nothing.

She adjusted her grip. One arm tightened around his ribs, drawing him back into her. The other rose, gliding up the front of his chest, past his collarbone, up his throat—and then over his face. Her hand covered his eyes, fingers stretched across his brow, plunging him into sudden darkness.

That was when she felt it. The shift.

His breath caught. His body—still grounded, still upright—tilted just slightly toward her. Not yielding. Not submitting. But reacting. And for her, that was enough.

She held her palm over his eyes longer than she needed to. Not moving. Not rushing. She wanted him to sit in it—the weight of her touch, the quiet press of her presence behind him, the helplessness of not knowing what she might do next.

Her mouth hovered just beside his ear now. She didn’t speak.

She removed her hand from his face with agonizing slowness. Dragged it down the side of his jaw. Then along the edge of his neck. Then lower, across his chest again, letting her fingernails skim across one of his nipples-lightly.

She smiled against the curve of his shoulder, unseen.

Then she leaned in- closer, until her body pressed fully against his back. Her hands flattened again, wrapping tightly around his chest, holding him to her as if anchoring him in place.

His shoulders twitched. And then she moved forward, kissing his neck softly until just as suddenly he stood up and stepped away, walking away before she could gather her senses.

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