I’ve always felt like Travis Chancer was forced to marry me.

Every time we were intimate at night, he’d rather use his hand to get me off than actually have sex with me.

I got more and more disappointed and decided to divorce him. But the night before I printed the papers, I heard him on the balcony talking to his buddies.

“Bro, I’m not trying to be nosy, but you’re obviously dying for it. Why won’t you touch her? The perfect woman is right there. It must feel amazing.”

“Women can’t stand being ignored. If you keep bottling it up, she’ll eventually run off with another man, and you’ll regret it.”

He took a quiet sip of whiskey. “But her skin is so delicate, and her waist is so slim… she’s so sensitive. What if I lose control and scare her?

“She’s my woman. I have to be careful. If she wants to find comfort elsewhere, she can. As long as she’s still willing to come home, I’ll keep spoiling her.”

They snorted. “Don’t act like a saint, man. If you’ve got the guts, stop secretly posting on Reddit.”

Late that night, I quietly opened Travis’s browser history.

A full hundred entries. The pinned post read: “I finally married the girl I’ve loved for years, but I have a very high sex drive. How can I make her enjoy it without leaving psychological scars?”…

Travis was finally back from his trip.

I’d done everything. I showered, did my makeup carefully, slipped into expensive lace lingerie, and got into bed early to wait for him. But after his shower, he opened the bedroom door, saw me on the bed, and froze.

“Why are you here?” His voice was cold, with no warmth at all.

I looked him up and down. He’d always had a great body. His robe hung half open, showing a solid chest and cut abs. With that straight nose and those long fingers, he should’ve been incredible in bed. But in the six months we’d been married, I’d never gotten the chance. It made my irritation flare.

“I’m sleeping here tonight.” No matter what excuse he tried to use, I wasn’t leaving.

Travis’s gaze flicked over what I was wearing. In a low, hoarse voice, he said, “Fine.”

That was it? I could barely believe it.

When he came closer, I suddenly felt awkward. The bedside lamps were dim. He lay down, my heart pounding, and I wrapped my arms around his waist. He went rigid and looked down at me, his expression unreadable in the low light.

From the shadows, his voice came out rough. “You want me to help?”

Before I could answer, he turned and pulled open the nightstand drawer.

The tiny spark of hope in my chest went out.

He was reaching for one of those latex finger covers again. He was still just going to use his hand!

I was fuming. It was always the same.

“I don’t need your help. You’re impossible. What, do you have ED or something?” I was shaking with anger, my voice rising.

The room was too dark to read his expression, but I could feel his gaze on me, deep and scorching. Feeling completely wronged, I snapped, “Travis, if you can’t do it, just say so. There are men all over Los Angeles. I can find someone to take your place anytime.”

“I didn’t mean it like that,” he said, but he still didn’t move.

I wouldn’t have minded if he’d just pinned my shoulders and kissed me hard.

This was the ninth time.

I’d been excited, ready to go further, and he pushed me away.

I shot to my feet and slammed the door.

---

At my best friend’s place, my phone wouldn’t stop buzzing.

“Not answering?” Wendy Jackson tilted her head, studying me.

I tipped my head back and downed a big gulp of tequila. The burn left my throat raw and bitter.

I shut my phone off and grumbled, “That cigarette hit hard. One drag and my voice is wrecked.”

Wendy toyed with the pack in her hand. “But the packaging is cool, right?”

I wasn’t trying to hide anything. I genuinely couldn’t understand it.

“Why won’t Travis actually touch me? Does he like men?” I shook my head. “Back in high school, he even dated the cheer captain. After that, girls threw themselves at him and he turned them all down.”

A thought flashed through my mind.

I narrowed my eyes. “He’s probably thinking about my sister. The one who ran off to Paris.”

My sister was supposed to marry Travis, but she chased some so-called true love and ran overseas with a broke painter.

Travis acted like the perfect gentleman. In the six months since we married, he’d given me everything I asked for, in every way except in bed.

And every time he used his hand on me, even when I was falling apart, he stayed calm and controlled.

He couldn’t possibly find my body disgusting… could he?

The thought snapped something in me. Humiliation surged hot in my chest.

I slammed my glass down on the table. “I’ve decided.”

Wendy jumped.

“Divorce.”

A useless man, handsome or not, wasn’t worth keeping. I didn’t need him.

“Okay, okay. Stop drinking.” Wendy must’ve thought I was wasted. She dragged me into the shower.

She’d just gotten these over-the-top rhinestone nails, and she kept pawing at me in her sleep. The next morning, I woke up with several dark red scratches on my neck where she’d clawed me.

When I turned my phone back on, it was packed with emails and texts from Travis.

I went back to the villa and was surprised to find him home.

The living room reeked of nicotine, and the ashtrays were overflowing.

He looked up. His chiseled face seemed almost sharp with anger. “You’re back?” His voice was rough.

Then he saw the marks on my neck. His pupils tightened, and his expression turned dark in a way that made my stomach drop.

I’d slept like crap, and my throat was raw from smoking and drinking, so I wasn’t in the mood to fight.

He was about to speak when I croaked, waving him off, “I’m a mess today. I’m going upstairs.”

I wasn’t bluffing. I meant it. I wanted a divorce.

I didn’t want a sexless marriage.

—

That night, I ran a high fever. My head felt thick and foggy.

The bedroom door opened.

The scent of his body wash hit me and made me dizzy. I frowned. “Don’t touch me.”

His body went still. “Then who do you want touching you?” His voice was low, like he was forcing himself to hold something back. Then he softened it, coaxing. “Listen, take your medicine.”

A cool fingertip brushed my lips, and his other hand tightened at my waist. His gaze locked on my fever-flushed mouth. His breathing turned heavy, fast.

I hated being held by him. Uncomfortable, I turned away and burrowed under the covers. “Once I take it, get out.”

In my haze, I thought I heard the bathroom water running again.

Who’s showering?

—

I woke up again to find myself completely wrapped in Travis’s arms.

Something hard and unmistakable pressed against the top of my thigh. His breath was hot.

Travis seemed to be waking up too. He ran a hand over my forehead, slow and careful. “You’re still a little warm. How do you feel?”

I snapped fully awake. Yeah, because you’re the one burning up.

I tried to shove him off with my elbow, but he caught my waist. His rough fingertips brushed my skin, sending a jolt through me. I couldn’t stop the soft moan that slipped out.

“Anna.” Travis’s lips hovered near my ear, his voice low and dangerously tempting. “Wanna do it?”

If this had been before, I would’ve melted right into him. But after last night, there was distance between us. To me, his offer felt like charity.

My body was still weak from the fever. I pushed him away, my expression cold.

“Not in the mood.”

Travis went pale instantly. A flicker of embarrassment crossed his face as he backed off. When I turned, I ran straight into those deep, unreadable eyes.

“It’s my fault,” he said quietly. “I shouldn’t have asked right now.”

I snorted. At least he had some self-awareness.

“But don’t do something like that again, okay?” His lashes lowered. “I’ll worry if your fever comes back.”

Before I could respond, he went to the wardrobe and pulled out clothes for me. He usually wore a robe, but now he only had a towel tied around his waist. The hard lines of his muscles were, annoyingly, pretty sexy.

My gaze slid over his narrow hips and the curve of his ass, and my heart skipped.

Whatever. Put any top male model in front of me and I’d look too.

He handed me the clothes. I changed right in front of him without thinking twice. As expected, he politely turned his head away.

I didn’t know then that the moment I walked out, Travis slipped into my private bathroom and turned the water on again.

A few days later, I noticed things missing from my dressing room. At first I didn’t care. I had plenty of cheap fast-fashion stuff, so whatever. But the Victoria’s Secret lace set Wendy gave me last week was gone, and that made no sense.

At dinner, I told Travis, “Someone’s been stealing from the house.”

He was spreading butter on toast with a knife. The moment he heard that, his hand froze. He didn’t look up, but his lips pressed into a thin line. “What’s missing?”

“My lingerie.”

I said it casually, but he completely lost his composure. The knife slipped, smearing a greasy streak of butter across his fingers.

I watched him, suspicious. “Why are you so nervous? Did you steal it?”

Travis stayed quiet for a few seconds. Then he let out a low chuckle and finally looked at me. “What do you think?”

I gave him a flippant smile. What did I think? A man like Travis, so rigid and serious, borderline obsessive about cleanliness… what would he want with my underwear?

I dropped the subject. “What time will you be back tonight? I have a ‘gift’ for you.” The divorce papers were already in my bag.

He pushed a piece of toast toward me. His voice came out fast, almost too fast. “Whenever you need me, I’ll come back.”

I barely had time to process the strange edge in his tone before his phone rang. His assistant walked in with a briefcase to remind him about a meeting.