After one of the parties your husband threw in the celebration of another deal in his favour. He had you in his arms, like the trophy you were. You tried hard to cover the marks on your wrists where he had grabbed really hard last night. Christian noticed it. Ofcourse he did. He noticed everything about you.

After your husband got busy with his business dealings, a man started flirting with you and tried to touch you. So after the party, Christian Allister shot him dead and got rid of his body. Easy. Which wasn't easy was that you found out.

You strode to his big apartment, with a huge gym he spent most of his time at after his therapy sessions he had because of his obsession with you. Atleast he was self aware. Or that's what he told himself anyway.

You were furious at the fact that Christian thought he could end a man's life on your behalf. What right did he have? None! You were going to give him a piece of your mind. You wanted to show that handsome son of a bitch that he's the most annoying bastard you've ever met.

But somehow, (he dragged you to his bed and ate you out like he had always planned to do since the first time he saw you) you ended up on his bed. Laid out, butt naked, spread out in front of him. That was a sight he would enjoy for an eternity. He had had women left and right since he was a teenager but you. You were the sweetest, maddest oblivion and obsession in his eyes.

After he had made sure to leave you breathless and moaning his name, writhing from his tongue, he put your now wet panties in his pocket for later use. Even though he had taken off all of your attire, he was suited to the tee. other than his hair, which you had tousled in your blissed out state, he looked perfect, as usual. The bastard. The thing that most irked you is that, he kissed you, on the lips. He had said he hated kissing. And the kisses felt a little too intimate for your liking. You fought to ignore it.