Buying My Forever Wife novel Chapter 14

she lunged forward with her arms outstretched, instantly feeling herself grabbing onto a solid figure.

Ivy burst into laughter.

"Gotcha! Let's see you try to run now."

With a triumphant grin, she ripped off the blindfold—only to freeze in absolute horror. She hadn't caught Stella.

Instead...

her hands were firmly gripping Alaric's ass.

A furious blush exploded across her face. She yanked her hands back as if burned, stumbling a step back and ducking her head in pure mortification.

"I-I'm so sorry, Mr. Foster! I didn't mean to!"

Alaric was just as utterly humiliated.

Of all the places she could have grabbed, she had clamped down on the most sensitive spot imaginable.

In an instant, all the blood rushed to his head, and a scorching wave of heat swept through his body.

Even the tips of his ears were burning fiercely.

Yet, he maintained his stoic composure, standing completely rigid as he dropped a low, gravelly command.

"Carry on."

With that, he turned on his heel and strode stiffly into the estate.

Stella ignored her father's retreat, doubling over in fits of giggles.

"You didn't catch me, Mommy! You grabbed Daddy's butt! Hahaha!"

Ivy was speechless.

Seeing the sly, triumphant glint in the girl's eyes, she heavily suspected she had been set up.

Why else would Stella intentionally lure her right into the man's rear?

It was unbelievably mortifying.

Then again...

the man's glutes were incredibly firm.

Squeezing them had felt like gripping solid, tense muscle.

Realizing where her thoughts were drifting, Ivy mentally slapped herself.

She needed to get her head out of the gutter.

Of all the men in the world to lust after, Alaric was strictly off-limits.

He might be her husband on paper, but there was zero romance between them. She had absolutely no delusions about playing house permanently or having his children.

Her goal was simple: make enough money to clear her debts, divorce him, and walk away clean.

Shaking the thought away, Ivy took Stella's hand.

"Alright, game over. Let's head inside, wash our hands, and get ready for dinner."

Stella obediently trotted alongside her into the house.

"Mr. Foster, dinner is ready."

Alaric had just changed into fresh clothes, but he still felt an uncomfortable, lingering heat pulsing beneath his skin.

When he yanked the door open and was met with her naturally stunning face, a dangerous, primal impulse flashed through his mind.

But he ruthlessly clamped down on it.

Masking it with a glacial glare, he grunted,

"Let's go."

As he stepped out, an irrational paranoia gripped him—what if she lunged for his ass again?

His lower back stiffened, and he immediately stepped aside, gesturing sharply.

"You walk first."

Ivy gave him a baffled look.

She obliged, stepping ahead, but couldn't resist throwing a glance over her shoulder.

"Are you okay, Mr. Foster? Your face is a little red."

A flash of acute embarrassment crossed Alaric's features as his gaze darted away.

Desperate to salvage his pride, he forced a harsh, icy tone.

"I'm perfectly fine. Mind your own business."