The Surrogate Wife's Revenge Ends In Checkmate

Ashton lunged forward, seizing Lindsay's wrist with such force that it hurt. A dark struggle flared in his eyes, desire clashing violently with restraint. "Do you even realize," he muttered, his breath coming hot against her mouth, "what you're actually saying?" "I do." Lindsay didn't look away. With her free hand, she reached over and rested it on his knotted fist, her fingers slipping into his hot palm and easing between his rigid ones, prying them apart one at a time. "And I know this as well… if you let tonight pass, you're not getting another opportunity like this." His breath faltered entirely. Right then, a voice spoke clearly from the hallway outside. "Someone just said they spotted her somewhere around here…" It was Tyler's men. They were actually searching for her. Lindsay's heart lurched painfully upward. She turned the flashlight off immediately and went completely still. Ashton picked up on the danger just as quickly. Footsteps moved down the hall, growing louder, until they stopped directly outside the room where they were hiding. In the heavy silence, the doorknob twitched. "This one… the door looks like it's not fully closed," someone murmured from the other side. A sheen of cold sweat spread across Lindsay's back. If that door opened, they would be seen by Tyler's men. With Ashton in his current state and her own appearance in disarray, things would be catastrophic. The instant the lock began to give, Lindsay didn't pause to think. She caught Ashton's fever-warm arm and dragged him toward the bed with everything she had. Unprepared, his solid weight tilted with the force of her pull. She dropped backward onto the mattress, and Ashton followed, his body heat slamming down over her in a rush. There was no room for hesitation. Lindsay wrapped both arms around his neck and hauled him down with her. Then she tipped her chin up and pressed her mouth against his. At the same time, she released a soft, drawn-out moan, carefully breathy and unmistakably suggestive in the silence. The movement outside stopped at once. A second later came muted snickers. "They're busy in there. Damn. Didn't even bother locking up." "Let's go. No need to interrupt." Footsteps resumed, gradually retreating down the corridor. Lindsay exhaled shakily in relief and began to pull back. But Ashton was faster. In an instant, he took over. His heated hand slid behind her head as he kissed her again, harder and deeper, with a force that seemed almost brutal. Lindsay stiffened. It felt like every drop of blood surged to her face before going cold a heartbeat later. Ashton pressed her into the mattress, holding her there so completely she couldn't move. One hand captured both her wrists and pinned them above her head without effort. His mouth moved against hers with rough urgency, all heat and appetite, as though he meant to devour her. Every broken sound she tried to make was suppressed by his loud kissing. His hand slipped beneath the torn edge of her neckline again, and the moment his fingers brushed bare skin, Lindsay trembled. In the darkness, his eyes burned with startling intensity. "I'll take the deal." The words had barely left him before he ripped what remained of her dress apart and lowered himself over her. A brief rush of cold air touched her exposed skin before being smothered beneath the heavy warmth of his body. His hand closed over her breast, his grip tight enough to leave marks. Lindsay bore the full press of his weight and heat, her fingers digging into the hard planes of his back. In the frantic friction of entwined limbs and urgent contact, something broke loose from her lower body—pain, yes, but something beyond that too. All she could hear by her ear was Ashton's rough, searing breathing, tangled with the sounds she fought to keep contained. The dull slap of skin against skin, the whisper of moving fabric, and the faint knock of teeth against teeth filled the darkness, sending heat rushing to her face. After what seemed like an endless stretch of time, the fierce tangle between them finally began to ease. Ashton lifted himself off her, his breathing still uneven, the heat of what had just happened lingering in his movements. He didn't say anything at first. He simply watched Lindsay in silence for several seconds. Then he bent toward her. His lips brushed against her forehead—light, almost weightless, and completely unexpected. A moment later, he picked up the suit jacket lying discarded on the floor and draped it carefully over her bare skin. The oversized material still carried his scent, enveloping her instantly. Once he was done, he didn't spare her another glance. He turned away and headed straight into the en-suite bathroom. The door clicked shut behind him, and not long after, the steady sound of running water followed. A few minutes later, Ashton stepped back out. His hair was damp, droplets sliding down from the strands at the front. The top two buttons of his shirt were undone, the fabric darkened where it clung to his skin. The hunger that had burned in his eyes earlier had disappeared. In its place were focus, restraint, and composure. "Now, tell me your plan," he said. Lindsay didn't respond right away. Instead, she pulled the torn fabric over her chest and held it in place. "I'll explain when the time is right. Just don't forget your promise, Mr. Clarke." "I always keep my word." He moved closer, his tall frame casting a shadow over her. "But if you're lying to me, the cost will be more than you're prepared to pay." "That applies to you too." She met his eyes steadily. "If I find out you double cross me halfway through, or decide I'm nothing more than a piece you can throw away…" A quiet laugh left her lips, hollow and cold. "Someone with nothing left to lose doesn't scare easily. And if I'm going down, I'm gonna drag whoever I can with me." They held each other's eyes for a moment. The tension between them remained thick and unmoving. Ashton looked at her a second longer, something unreadable flickering across his face. "Go." Lindsay left the hotel. Her phone vibrated again. It was still Tyler. "Honey, the driver said he didn't find you. Where are you? I'm worried." She stared at the message, at the insincere concern in every word, before slowly typing a reply. "Honey, I'm still not feeling well. I think I've just been too stressed lately. I took a cab home already. I want to get some rest tonight." Then she flagged down a passing taxi, gave the driver the address, and sat quietly for the rest of the ride. As the car made its way through the city streets, she looked out the window indifferently. The wind outside felt like it passed straight through her, but the anger inside her, fueled by betrayal and humiliation, only intensified. Tyler, Jenna, and everyone in that room who had laughed. For every single thing they had done to her, she would make sure they paid for it with interest. When the taxi finally stopped, Lindsay stepped out and walked toward the grand mansion ahead. Once inside, she moved without hesitation. She washed away every trace of what had happened, changed into clean clothes, and had just settled onto the couch when she heard the front door open and familiar footsteps approach. Tyler entered quickly, his face arranged into obvious concern. Jenna followed closely behind him. Tyler crossed the space between them and pulled Lindsay into a tight embrace, holding her so firmly it made breathing difficult. "Honey, you had me worried sick! The driver said he couldn't find you anywhere. I thought something might've happened." What a convincing act! A wave of cold disgust rose in Lindsay's chest. She let him hold her, her expression nearly blank. Tyler leaned slightly, his cheek close to her ear. A faint, soft, and familiar scent reached her nose—Jenna's perfume, the one she wore all the time. Lindsay's body tensed just slightly. Tyler didn't notice. He only tightened his hold. She glanced down, and through the slight opening at his collar, she saw it. A fresh, unmistakable kiss mark, vivid against the skin near his collarbone.