The Ruthless CEO's Revenge Wife-Chapter 189: The Ice Cream Thief

Logan walked over, dropped the takeout on the table, but kept the ice cream just out of reach as she leaned forward.

"Logan." She frowned at him. Why did he do that?

Logan looked at her, a mischievous smile on his lips. "What?"

Jean dangerously stepped towards him. "Give. Me. That."

"No. I’m not giving you. Until..." He took a step back. "I need a kiss first."

Jean blinked. "Excuse me?"

"A kiss. If you want your dessert?" He grinned. "I need payment first."

She rolled her eyes and reached for the ice cream, but he raised it higher.

"Logan."

"Jean."

She exhaled through her nose like a mildly irritated kitten. Then leaned up, pressed the quickest peck to his cheek, and held out her hand.

"There, you got your payment. Now gimme my icecream."

He looked offended. "That was not a kiss. How many times do I have to teach you how to kiss your husband?"

"That was merely a transaction," she said dryly.

"Then I demand a refund."

Before she could react, he set the ice cream down on the table... safely out of her reach and leaned over her, one arm bracing the couch cushion beside her shoulder.

"Let me show you what counts."

His lips brushed against hers softly at first as if patient, asking. Then, like her breath had given him permission, he deepened it.

Slow. Melting. Thorough.

His mouth sucked hers as she moaned out loud. His tongue latching with hers in a dominating dance. Too intense for her. Too maddening for her. Her knees almost gave up but his hand on her hips kept her from melting away.

She didn’t realize how long her eyes had been closed until she opened them again, dazed.

He pulled back, satisfied. "Now that’s a kiss."

Jean blinked and breathed heavily. "Still a little unfair, don’t you think?"

"You got the ice cream, didn’t you?"

She reached for it, scoffing. "You’re lucky I don’t dislike you, Kingsley."

"You will soon start to love me," he said casually, walking away toward the kitchen.

Jean stared at him, her spoon halfway to her mouth.

He didn’t look back. Didn’t smirk.

But he knew she was still watching.

And somehow... She didn’t deny it.

Jean sat cross legged on the couch, her spoon buried in the ice cream pint like a tiny sword in victory.

"Mmm," she hummed after the first bite. "This is so good. You almost don’t deserve a taste."

Logan reappeared from the kitchen, sleeves rolled up, hair messier now after washing his hands. He tossed the hand towel onto the counter and leaned casually against the backrest behind her.

"Almost?" his voice echoed, eyebrows raised.

Jean held the icecream closer to her chest protectively. "Don’t even think about it."

"But I brought it," he reasoned.

"Exactly. That was the bare minimum."

He grinned, then walked around the couch... not fast, just... strategically.

Jean’s eyes narrowed suspiciously.

"Logan... don’t..."

Too late.

Like a stealthy jungle cat, he swooped in, grabbed the spoon mid-air, and before she could react, stole a big scoop from the pint and shoved it into his mouth.

Jean gasped, scandalized.

"You thief!"

"Mmmph," he said through a mouthful of cold, creamy betrayal. "Worth it."

She reached for the spoon, but he ducked away laughing, trying not to choke on the ice cream.

"You better sleep with one eye open," she threatened.

"Please," he grinned, licking the spoon slowly just to be annoying. "You’d never harm this face."

Jean lunged for the pint, retrieved it from his clutches, and set it firmly in her lap like a dragon guarding her hoard.

"Touch it again and I swear you’ll be kissing a spoon for the rest of your life."

Logan plopped down beside her, watching her with fond amusement.

"That supposed to be a punishment?"

She elbowed him... gently.

But when he leaned his head against her shoulder with a happy sigh, she didn’t push him away.

They sat like that, quietly sharing stolen bites and secret smiles... For tonight, the world could wait.

___________________________

The morning sun slipped through the sheer curtains, painting golden stripes across the Kingsley penthouse.

Jean stood in front of the mirror in the walk in closet, her expression unreadable as she clasped on a pair of pearl earrings. Her eyes were sharp, her lips painted with a confident mauve... the kind of color that made people forget how tired you were underneath.

She hadn’t slept much.

Not because Logan had kept her up... though he did steal a few more bites of ice cream and kisses before finally dozing off beside her... but because her mind was already racing through spreadsheets, client emails, supplier delays, and Emma.

Emma, who always handled things like clockwork. Who filtered Jean’s calendar like a shield. Who kept the chaos outside the door, and the burden off her shoulders.

Now... it was all on her.

Jean exhaled slowly, smoothing down the hem of her pencil skirt. Her heels clicked softly against the marble floor as she walked into the kitchen, where Logan stood in front of the espresso machine, shirtless and half-asleep.

He blinked when he saw her... then whistled. "Someone looks deadly before 9 AM."

"Thank you," she said flatly, grabbing a protein bar.

He raised a brow, watching her slide on her blazer like it was armor.

"Big day?"

She nodded, sipping the espresso he wordlessly handed her.

"Every day’s big when your second in command is in a coma and your new intern gets distracted by glitter pens and pastel folders."

Logan chuckled. "Hannah will grow into it."

"I don’t have time to let her ’grow into it,’ Logan."

Her voice was calm, but tired... her eyes could tell how tired she felt by not being there for anyone who needed her.

He leaned against the counter, arms folded, studying her.

"You want me to drive you?"

She paused, surprised. He usually stayed out of her work routine. "You have meetings too."

"They can wait."

Her expression softened just a little. "I’ll be fine."

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