His Mute Wife: He Can't Sleep After She Left-Chapter 55: Why Are You Poking My Chest?

Ethan Sinclair’s Bugatti Veyron—the space inside the car wasn’t exactly small.

But right now, to Kiana Sutton, the car felt tiny and suffocating; she could barely breathe.

Her body was hot and uncomfortable, fidgeting to get her clothes off, and she had the urge to cling to Ethan Sinclair.

If this was any other day, even with a hundred shots of liquid courage, she wouldn’t have dared.

She could tell Ethan was angry, but she just couldn’t control her body—her small hand even shamelessly started tugging at his clothes.

Ethan grabbed her reckless hand coldly; this damned woman always acted like a mouse seeing a cat when she saw him—yet tonight she was bold as hell.

Rage and desire were snarled together inside him—he almost wanted to throw Kiana out of the car.

"Don’t you usually have plenty of tricks up your sleeve? What, did you finally slip up?"

His grip was rough, and Kiana winced from the pain, her eyes turning red with grievance.

She had no idea how much that look made people want to bully her, and bully her hard.

Ethan’s face was the definition of cold restraint—but the man himself was anything but restrained.

Especially after tasting what he shouldn’t have tasted; as long as he wanted, he could always get satisfaction from Kiana Sutton.

Right now, his body was about to explode, but he didn’t immediately take her—instead, he gripped her chin cruelly, eyes dark and menacing: "Evan Shepherd says you two are mutually in love—as if I’m the bastard tearing apart a pair of doomed lovers."

Kiana’s heart jerked violently. She shook her head desperately, struggled free, and signed out tremblingly, "He’s lying. I only think of him as a friend—it’s not that kind of liking."

"Oh? What kind of ’liking’ then?"

"...The kind between lovers."

Ethan’s gaze deepened, his long, elegant fingers brushing over Kiana’s cheek, sliding downslowly, until he reached her neck.

"Is that so? Then who do you like?"

His fingertips felt cold. He wasn’t wearing gloves tonight—when his finger brushed Kiana’s skin, she closed her eyes in pleasure, wanting even more.

Ethan’s fingers tightened suddenly around Kiana’s neck, asking again, "Who do you like?"

Even though the effects of the drug had robbed her of most reason, deep down Kiana still felt that if she told Ethan she liked him, he’d surely curse her as shameless—maybe even divorce her.

Kiana shook her head, clamped her lips shut—her hands stilled, refusing to sign again.

"Looks like you really do love someone!"

Kiana’s doe eyes were locked on Ethan’s terrifying, stormy expression—she couldn’t help but tremble.

Ethan was in a foul mood, especially at the thought that Kiana actually had someone she liked—restless anger surging inside him.

"I’ll give you one more chance. Tell me who you like!!"

Almost grinding the words out between his teeth, Ethan pinned Kiana on the backseat, her fragile neck caught in his grip—if he put just a bit of strength behind it, Kiana Sutton would be erased from the world!

I like you!

Like you!

If she could speak, Kiana would have shouted it without a second thought. But she was mute.

Kiana broke down crying—all these years of secret love, humiliation, sorrow—everything crashing in at once. She couldn’t take it anymore.

Her other hand was pinned down by Ethan—she stretched out one hand, slow but resolute, and traced a single character on his chest: "You."

Her movement was painstakingly slow—just that simple word, she put all her strength into it.

God knew what she was feeling in her heart as she wrote that word.

She couldn’t talk—she’d thought she’d never get to confess to Ethan Sinclair in this life. Who could have imagined it would end up like this, with Ethan finding out her feelings this way?

Because of the drug, the tips of Kiana’s fingers were pink. When she touched Ethan’s heart, his own skipped a beat.

His hawk-like eyes locked on her, seeing the intense, tangled emotion in the depths of Kiana’s gaze.

And after all that inner conflict, seeing her make up her mind—as if she’d reached some life-changing decision—she spelled the word out in one deliberate stroke.

The person Kiana Sutton liked—was him!

Ethan’s first thought wasn’t "why should this damned woman dare to like me"

but rather—how could Kiana possibly like him!

He grabbed her hand—clearly knowing what word she’d written, but still taunting: "I asked who you liked—why are you poking around on my chest for, huh?"

Kiana sobbed even harder, urgent this time.

She’d risked everything to confess—yet he hadn’t even realized.

"Tell me one more time. Who do you like?"

Compared to the earlier menace and rage, when Ethan asked this now, his expression had softened—maybe he didn’t even notice the slight smile curving his lips.

Kiana was falling apart, burning up and desperate—and Ethan still wouldn’t let her go.

Staring at that impossibly perfect face so close, Kiana gave up signing, broke free of Ethan’s hand, and threw her arms around his neck, kissing him.

Using her clumsy, foolish way, she told Ethan—she loved him, and only him!

Kiana was rarely ever bold, and Ethan wasn’t about to hold back. "Connor Grant, pull over the car and go have yourself a cigarette."

Connor Grant was already flushed red, hurriedly pulled into the curb, and scrambled out of the car, slapping his heated face.

My god—The Fifth Master and the Young Madam are wild!

See no evil!

Hear no evil!

Connor Grant dashed over to a tree, pulled out his phone, and put on the Heart Clarity Spell.

The car rocked back and forth for more than two hours before stopping—Connor Grant, phone in hand, could only marvel.

Thank god it was night—thank god this car was well made.

Meanwhile, Evan Shepherd, pale and haggard, glared at Stella Lyncg in her designer clothes, his voice trembling with anger: "You said all I needed to do was lure Kiana into the room. Actually... you just wanted President Sinclair to catch her cheating, didn’t you?"

Stella sipped her coffee leisurely, saying nothing.

"You knew all along that Kiana belonged to President Sinclair—but you told me to target her just to drive a wedge between them, make her divorce him so you could avenge your sister—am I right?"

Stella snorted lightly, "Seems you know quite a lot. Tina Crowe must have told you, huh... For her to spill all that, I’m guessing you’ve already slept with her."

Evan Shepherd’s face flashed with humiliation. Stella had promised to introduce him to people from her social circle—but he never expected to catch Tina Crowe’s eye.

Tina Crowe was the Fordham Group’s heiress—fat, ugly, foul-mouthed, with nothing to offer but her money.

But if he wanted into high society—wanted the shortcut—Evan could only swallow his pride.

Seeing his expression, Stella looked down on him: "So, what are you angry about? I gave you a task, but you failed, and now Ethan Sinclair took away drugged-up Kiana Sutton. If those two end up..."

Just imagining what might happen between Ethan and Kiana drove Stella mad—her whole plan backfired, what a goddamn mess.

She’d just handed Kiana a wedding dress for free!

Now all she could do was pray Ethan wouldn’t touch that mute woman, Kiana.

Evan was seething, "How am I supposed to face Kiana after this? President Sinclair won’t let me stay on with Evercrest Group, either!"

Stella didn’t care in the slightest whether Evan lived or died—just scoffing, "Isn’t that better? You can devote yourself to being Tina Crowe’s pretty little plaything!"