Chapter 174

Chapter 174:

Dallas pulled back to look at her. His eyes were dark, swirling with an irrational, primal jealousy that defied all logic.

“You let him hug you,” he accused.

“I didn’t let him!” Eliza’s voice rose. “I slapped him! You saw me p>

“But his scent is on you,” Dallas said, shaking his head slightly, as though the smell itself were suffocating him. “On my wife.” He looked at her neck, then at her wrist, then back to her eyes.

S𝘩𝗮𝗿𝘦 𝘺𝗼𝘂𝗋 𝘁ho𝘂𝗀h𝘁𝘀 оո

Something shifted behind his gaze.

“I need to wash him off p>

He didn’t ask. He gripped her waist — his hands large, burning through the fabric of her clothes — and lifted her. The world tilted as he hoisted her into his arms, her legs wrapping instinctively around his waist. He didn’t move toward the bedroom. He marched directly to the master bathroom.

The room was vast, clad in grey marble that radiated cold even from a distance. He didn’t stop at the sink. He walked straight into the enormous walk-in shower — a glass enclosure large enough for four people — reached out, and wrenched the handle.

Water exploded from the rainfall head above. It was freezing for a split second, shocking the breath from her lungs, before turning scalding hot.

“Dallas! You’re ruining your suit!” Eliza cried as the water soaked his expensive navy jacket instantly. The wool darkened, heavy and sodden against his frame. His white shirt turned translucent, clinging to his skin.

“I don’t care about the suit,” he said, water streaming down his face and matting his dark hair to his forehead. “I care about what’s mine p>

He set her down on the wet tile but kept his hands on her. He ripped his soaked jacket off and threw it into the corner of the shower, where it landed with a heavy, wet slap. Then he tore at his shirt — buttons snapping free and pinging against the glass walls — and pulled it open.

He grabbed a sponge and the bottle of body wash from the shelf. Sandalwood and amber. His scent. He poured a generous amount onto the sponge and brought it to her neck, his movements frantic, desperate — no, furious.

“Dallas, stop!” Eliza gasped, twisting away as the sponge grazed her skin. It wasn’t the roughness of it that startled her, but the raw, barely leashed desperation in his touch. “You’re scaring me p>

He stopped instantly.

The rage on his face didn’t fade — it shattered. It broke apart completely, revealing something raw and bleeding underneath. He dropped the sponge. It fell to the tile and swirled in the soapy water draining away between their feet.

He pressed his forehead against hers. The hot water pounded down on both of them, a relentless drumbeat, soaking her clothes through, plastering her hair to her skull. They were drenched, heavy, breathing the same steam.

“I want him gone, Eliza,” he whispered. Water ran down his nose and dripped onto her lips. “From your skin. From your head. From your heart. I need him gone p>