Liam remained silent, simply watching her. His gaze was hard, fixed—but his breathing betrayed him. He was trying to stay in control, but he was losing it, second by second.Water ran between them, hot and heavy. Olívia slid the soap across his chest, moving up to his shoulders, and murmured with a crooked smile:“You know, Liam…” she began, her tone soft and mocking. “I think it’s time I showed you what it means to be a perfect wife—even if all of this is just a farce.”He raised an eyebrow but didn’t move, simply watching her.“Just imagine, babe…” she continued, her voice velvety, threaded with sarcasm. “You coming home after an exhausting day, your suit impeccable, that same serious expression you always wear. And I’m there, waiting for you—with dinner ready, the table set, a glass of wine… and then, out of nowhere, I pull you right here.”She lathered him slowly, the soap gliding over his defined abdomen, foam tracing every contour.“I’d walk you into the shower,” she went on, he
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