The Ugly Wife’s Stunning Comeback novel Chapter 919

Felicia pressed her hands against Max's shoulders, her eyes widening as she stared up at him. His deeply aggressive, domineering kiss suffocated her in an instant. Sensing that she was on the verge of collapsing, Max slowly released his grip. As fresh oxygen flooded her lungs, her scattered consciousness gradually returned. He lingered to press one last tender kiss against her lips before finally letting her go. He gazed down at her slightly parted, flushed lips and her rapidly rising and falling chest. Her beautiful, tear-misted eyes glared at him with annoyance.

A soft smile touched the corners of his mouth. He reached out to grasp her hand. "Let's go."

They left the airport and settled into the waiting car. Felicia narrowed her eyes, studying his flawless composure. There was absolutely nothing out of the ordinary about him, not even the slightest hint of a bump or bruise on his forehead to suggest a collision.

Catching her intense scrutiny, Max arched a brow and smiled. "What, did you miss me that much?"

"Why don't you tell me exactly where you had this alleged car accident?" Felicia asked coolly.

"I'm perfectly fine now," Max replied with a light, dismissive chuckle. "Isn't that what matters?"

Felicia held his gaze for a few long seconds before letting her eyes darken. She turned her head to look out the window, realizing there was no point in pressing the issue any further.

Max brought her directly back to Central Park Tower. After stepping out of the car, he eyed her small twenty-two-inch suitcase. It was a clear sign that she fully intended to leave at a moment's notice. He chose not to point it out, merely reaching over to take the luggage from his bodyguard. "Did you pack the treats for me in here?" he asked, glancing back at her.

"No," Felicia replied flatly.

Max simply smirked. He reached over, lacing his fingers through hers. "Let's go."

They took the elevator up to the sixty-eighth floor, where he had been staying lately. It was a sprawling, magnificent penthouse. The living room featured massive floor-to-ceiling windows that offered a sweeping bird's-eye view of Central Park, along with the dazzling, neon-lit skyline stretching out into the distance. Max instructed a maid to take Felicia up to her room to settle in.

The master bedroom on the second floor was designed in a highly refined, minimalist style. As the maid wheeled her small suitcase toward the walk-in closet, Felicia stopped her. "Take the things out first."

Felicia took the delicate stemware and tipped her head back for a small sip. The aroma was deeply intense, leaving a sweet, lingering finish on her tongue.

"How is it?" he asked softly.

Felicia gave a soft hum of approval.

Max pulled her over to a stool by the round glass table. A late-night supper had already been laid out, and resting on one of the elegant ceramic plates were treats she brought here. Having only eaten a bland airplane meal before her long soak in the tub, Felicia was genuinely hungry. She had just picked up her fork when the man beside her let out a low, teasing chuckle. "Eat up. We wouldn't want you running out of stamina halfway through the night."

Hearing the heavy implication, Felicia tightened her grip on her chopsticks.

Max casually placed some meat onto her plate, "Since you brought these all the way here just for me, I suppose I should be the one to eat them."