HIS STRIPPER, HIS WIFE novel Chapter 130

Chapter one hundred and thirty

Binca

I pushed against his chest with both hands, trying to get him off me, but he didn’t move even an inch. He just stayed there. hovering over fire with a grin on his face. The windows had started fogging up from the heat trapped inside the car and the streetlight outside made a thin orange line across the side of his face, making his eyes look darker than they actually wore. could almost hear my own heartbeat in my ears and it refused to slow down no matter how hard I tried to breathe normally.

“What exactly did I do?” he asked, smiling even wider now, clearly enjoying this.

I didn’t answer him, I just stared up at him, my arms still locked against his chest, refusing to let him get any closer than he already was, even though some small, annoying part of me wasn’t entirely sure I wanted him to stop.

“You know what,” he said after a while, his tone softer, “alright, alright. I’m sorry for everything I did today.”

I blinked, what? I couldn’t believe my ears, “this is the first time he has ever apologized without trying to twist it into something else, without turning it around so it somehow became my fault for reacting the way I did.” I thought, in my head. I just nodded slowly, still not trusting myself to speak.

“Oh okay, so I’ve heard that,” I finally said, my voice lower than I wanted it to be. “Can you get off me now?”

He shook his head instead, his eyes still fixed on mine, “Let me see you smile first.”

I rolled my eyes at him, but he didn’t budge, so I had no choice but to lie there under him and wait it out, my chest rising and falling faster.

“So you seeee,” he said, dragging the word out the way he always did when he wanted to annoy me on purpose, “you are still pissed.” He started planting little kisses all over my face, playful ones, teasing, moving from my cheek to my forehead and back again, his lips barely touching my skin each time.

“Adri…” my voice trailed off the second his lips landed on my neck softly, and I could feel my stomach tighten.

“Okay, alright, alright, I’ve smiled,” I said quickly, pushing him back a little with my hand flat against his shoulder, my palm suddenly too aware of how warm he was through his shirt. “So can you get off me now?”

“Oh wait,” he said, straightening himself up just enough to actually look at my face properly. “You are so eager to get me off you. Why?”

His face had changed, no more teasing in it, no more playfulness in his eyes. Just him, waiting for an answer I didn’t have.

“I asked you a question, Bianca,” he said again, slower this time, like he was giving me a second chance to actually answer him.

“Nothing, I just…” I trailed off, not even sure myself what I was trying to say, the words just refusing to come together into something that made sense.

“You sign a contract with me now and you suddenly don’t want me closer to you?” he said, cutting me off before I could even finish my sentence. “Alright, I get it.”

He pulled himself up properly, reached over and fixed my seat back to how it was before, then settled into his own seat like nothing had just happened between us.

“I’m not annoyed anymore,” I said quickly, watching him reach for his seatbelt, my voice coming out more urgent than I

meant it to.

“Yes, it’s all good, Bianca. I get it,” he said, and even though his voice stayed even, I could tell he was already building his own version of what just happened in his head, and it wasn’t the version I wanted him to leave me with.

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14:29 Fri, Aug 21

HIS STRIPPER HIS WIFE

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He started the car without another word and drove the rest of the way in silence, and I kept sneaking glances at the side of his face, trying to read something there, anything, but he kept his eyes fixed straight ahead the whole time and in no time

were parked in front of my building.

“My driver will come pick you up for dinner tomorrow,” he said, his eyes on the road ahead rather than on me. “Please create time during your break to get sotnething you can wear with that card.”

“Okay.” I said, already reaching for the door handle, and he got out on his side too.

“Go ahead,” he said, gesturing for me to walk first while he followed a few steps behind, his hands sliding into his pockets.

Honestly, I thought I had overdone the whole reaction back in the car, and even now I couldn’t fully explain why I pushed him away like that when part of me hadn’t wanted him to stop at all.

I should have calmed down a little, let him hold me the way he wanted to but at least he was following me in now, so maybe I still have a chance to make up for it if I could just get him to come inside for a bit.

We finally got to my door and I opened it, expecting him to walk in behind me, but when I turned back to check, he was still standing outside, his hands in his pockets.

“You can come in,” I said, holding the door open wider, hoping he would take it as a small apology.

“No, I would rather not do that,” he said, shaking his head slightly. “Take care, and don’t forget tomorrow.”

And with that he turned and walked down the corridor, I closed the door slowly behind me, standing there for a second with my hand still on the handle, listening until I couldn’t hear him anymore.

Walking into my room, I couldn’t help but feel angry at myself. I had made him feel some kind of way earlier, and it was obvious with the way he refused to step inside. Oh my goodness! What was I going to do now? My mind drifted straight back to that two year clause sitting somewhere in a folded paper in his father’s suit pocket, and then to the event coming up tomorrow night.

I dropped my bag by the door, kicked off my shoes, and sat on the edge of my bed with my phone in my hand. I tried texting him a couple of times, typing out something that sounded like an apology, reading it back, deciding it sounded stiff, deleting it.

I eventually gave up, dropped my phone on the side table, and let sleep pull me in before I could talk myself into sending anything at all.

****

The next day at work turned out lighter than usual, more hands were on ground than expected, so I used my break time to run down to one of the best stores I knew for designer gowns. The moment I stepped inside, an attendant with a tape measure hanging around her neck was already walking toward me, asking what kind of event I was dressing for, and I told her it was something formal, something that needed to look expensive without trying too hard.

She pulled out a few pieces for me to try, gowns in different colors, before finally handing me a deep emerald green that made my skin glow under the fitting room lights. I tried on a few pieces before settling on the one that fit my body so well it almost felt like it had been made for me, hugging every curve in a way that made me stand a little straighter just looking at myself in the mirror.

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