Oops, Wrong Uncle! I Married The Real Zillionaire Instead!

A sharp chill grazed Corinne's bare skin, sending a delicate shiver cascading down her spine. Before she could steady herself, Andrew's hand covered her chest, nothing left to soften the contact. Heat radiated from his palm, startlingly intense, while his touch turned unexpectedly rough—the hardened pads of his fingers dragging firmly across her sensitive skin before closing in a tight, almost punishing grip that jolted straight through her, unfamiliar and overwhelming. Warm, uneven breaths spilled against the curve of her neck, each exhale heavier than the last. The moment his other hand slipped beneath the edge of her skirt, her entire body began to tremble, her breath catching so sharply it nearly vanished altogether. Andrew caught the reaction at once. Just as his fingers were about to brush the thin layer beneath, he went still. Clenching against the haze threatening to consume him, he leaned close, his lips hovering near her ear as his voice dropped into a hoarse, strained warning. "If you're aware enough to be afraid, then you shouldn't go around provoking men you don't know." He shifted back slightly, his voice tightening. "If you want to stop, this is your—" Cutting him off, Corinne seized his tie and dragged him sharply back down. Guided by instinct, her mouth found his ear, teeth grazing before her lips sealed over the heated lobe, and she sucked once—soft, controlled, and unmistakably intentional, shutting down the last chance he had offered. Determined to reach her goal, she forced herself to stay in character, her voice dipping into a faint, taunting murmur. "Are you... actually capable of it?" Pressed into the curve of her neck, he hid his expression from view, yet a low, husky laugh vibrated against her skin. From that moment on, any hesitation vanished. With barely anything left to keep them apart, his hand slid between her thighs, fingers locating that hidden place and pressing down with precise, unwavering intent. Moving with measured patience, he traced slow circles and subtle pressure over her most sensitive spot, each deliberate motion sending sharp tremors through her body until she couldn't stop the shiver that seized her. Releasing her pinned wrists, he threaded his fingers through hers and drawing her trembling hand into the heat of his palm, enclosing it fully. Gentle strokes brushed across her knuckles and along her palm, again and again, the contact there maddeningly soft—almost tender in contrast to the relentless precision of his touch below. Nothing about this matched the expectations she had braced herself for. Gradually, the tight coil of dread inside her unraveled under that unyielding rhythm, replaced inch by inch with something far more dangerous—an uneasy blend of embarrassment, curiosity, and a quiet, involuntary anticipation she couldn't suppress. Against her will, her body yielded, softening beneath his hands. Bit by bit, the clothes already hanging loose were peeled away by his long, graceful fingers until nothing remained between them. Wave after wave of sensation crashed over her, muddling her thoughts, dragging her deeper into a haze she couldn't quite fight. At some indistinct moment, the warmth of his touch shifted—replaced by something far more overwhelming. The instant he entered her, the reality struck all at once, sharp and inescapable, followed by a sudden sting that stole her breath. Countless times, Corinne had pictured how her first time would unfold. In those quiet fantasies, she had always imagined sharing it with the man she loved most, on a day filled with meaning, leaving behind a memory she could revisit with a soft, wistful smile. Reality, however, unfolded without mercy. Never—not once—had she considered that, driven by the need to retaliate against the man who had betrayed her, she would end up here… in the backseat of a car, with someone she had only met hours ago, surrendering herself in such a reckless, tangled way. A tear slid from the corner of her eye, heavy with emotions she couldn't sort through, slipping silently onto the smooth leather beneath her. Almost absently, his hand lifted and brushed across her cheek, his fingertips catching that tear and wiping it away. Without warning, his movements shifted—deeper, harder, each driving push reaching somewhere far beyond the surface, pulling broken sounds and uneven breaths from her lips. Gradually, the sharp ache ebbed away, replaced by a heady, spiraling sensation that coursed through her limbs and rattled her to the core. Everything that followed—from the car ride to Andrew's place—dissolved into a hazy blur, slipping through her grasp like fragments of a dream she couldn't quite hold onto. At some point, exhaustion overtook her completely, dragging her under into darkness. When her eyes finally fluttered open again, pale morning light had already filled the room. Struggling upright, she winced at the deep soreness lingering in her body, her gaze drifting sluggishly across the unfamiliar bedroom. Nearly half a minute passed before everything rushed back, each humiliating moment replaying with brutal clarity. That meant it hadn't been a dream at all. Reality settled in with crushing weight—she had truly slept with Jonny's uncle. Pressing her palm to her throbbing forehead, Corinne squeezed her eyes shut, unable to untangle the storm of shame, anger, and disbelief twisting inside her. "If you're awake, come out and eat," a calm, familiar voice called from the doorway. Startled, she snapped her gaze upward. At the sight of Andrew, the impact hit just as hard as before. Gone was the sharply dressed man from last night—Andrew now stood in relaxed, casual clothes, soft strands of hair falling over his brow. That effortless look made him seem more approachable, almost deceptively so, yet the cool detachment in his eyes hadn't changed in the slightest. Nothing about him matched the man she remembered from the night before. For several long seconds, Corinne could only stare at him, her thoughts frozen. Only when she shifted to sit up did the realization strike—she wasn't wearing anything at all. "Um… do you have anything I could change into?" Resting one shoulder against the doorframe, Andrew watched her without speaking. After a brief pause, he finally said, "I don't keep women's clothes here. If you don't mind, just take something from the closet." "But I…" Her voice trailed off, the protest dying before it could form. How exactly was she supposed to cross the room like this? Then again… after everything that had happened the night before, clinging to modesty now felt almost ridiculous. "Fine. Then I won't bother being shy," she said lightly, a small, deliberate smile tugging at her lips. With a quick, decisive motion, she tossed the blanket aside. Bare skin exposed, she stepped out of bed and walked past him without slowing. At her side, Andrew turned his head away, his gaze shifting elsewhere as though none of it concerned him. Reaching the closet, Corinne snatched a T-shirt at random and pulled it over herself, the loose hem just brushing her thighs. The place felt like a winding maze in its sheer size, leaving her slightly disoriented as she wandered through it. After a few wrong turns, she finally reached the dining area, only to find Andrew already seated, idly scrolling through financial headlines on his tablet. Set out before him, the breakfast looked plain but surprisingly appetizing. Glancing around, she asked, trying to ease the stiffness in the air, "I didn't see anyone else here… did you make all of this yourself?" Without lifting his gaze, he answered flatly, "Yeah." Hungry enough to forget herself, she ate with genuine enthusiasm, then flashed him a small, teasing smile. "That's actually impressive. Men who look like you and can cook too? That's a pretty rare combination." With a hint of scorn, Andrew let out a low huff. "Women with zero sense of self-preservation are pretty rare too." Silence settled over Corinne as she paused mid-bite. Honestly, it applied to him too. A man willing to sleep with a stranger he'd just met hardly qualified as cautious either. Irritation flickered through her as she rolled her eyes to herself. Shifting instantly, she tilted her head and sweetened her voice. "Funny how fast you changed your attitude once it was over. You were a lot gentler when you had your hands all over me last night." Given her soft, almost angelic features, the shameless ease of her words felt jarringly out of place. Drawing in a measured breath, Andrew set his tablet down with deliberate calm and rose from his chair. "Wrap it up in ten minutes," he said evenly. "We're heading to the courthouse at nine." The statement hit Corinne so abruptly she nearly choked on her milk. Coughing hard, she wiped her lips and stared at him in disbelief. "Wait—what did you just say?"