Oops I Banged the CEO novel Chapter 16

“I’ll take care of you.”

Yvonne’s worried expression instantly lit up. “Alright then. You should get some more sleep—I’ll go make breakfast. We don’t need a whole day, just half will do.”

Marico replied in his deep voice, “Okay.”

Yvonne slowly slipped her arms from around his waist.

Lying on his side, Marico watched her, his dark eyes lingering on her flushed and awkward face. There was a hint of a smile, barely visible, in his gaze as it traveled from her eyes, down to her nose, lips, chin, and lower still.

Yvonne could feel her cheeks burning under his scrutiny, her whole body growing inexplicably warm.

She realized her shirt from last night had long since vanished—this man had boundless energy, and she wasn’t about to take any more chances.

Besides, there was no foundation of affection between them—just a sudden, reckless entanglement. It was easy enough to ignore in the dark, but in broad daylight, face-to-face, it was more than a little awkward.

She yanked the covers over his head, blocking his view.

This time, Marico didn’t tease her further. He simply lay there quietly, not moving.

Only after she’d retreated to the bathroom did he pull the blanket off, slowly sitting up.

The once cold and quiet bedroom now felt like it had come alive, just a little.

Marico ran a hand through his short hair, tossed off the blanket, grabbed a towel from the foot of the bed, and wrapped it around his waist before heading for the walk-in closet.

Last night’s passion had left a new mark beside the faint bite from the night before—a delicate imprint from Yvonne, who’d lost control.

Yvonne finished washing up quickly. Determined to avoid any more awkward run-ins—or another accidental spark—she slipped downstairs to the kitchen.

Truthfully, she was just hungry.

She opened the massive, four-door fridge—and froze.

Rows and rows of wine bottles, nothing else.

The freezer was completely empty. Not a single thing to eat.

“No. We’re just getting the marriage license,” Marico replied. Dressed for business, he gave off an air of cool, distant authority—concise, direct, and not easy to approach.

“You’re pretty wealthy. Don’t rich people usually care about that stuff?”

Marico kept his eyes on the road. “If a man can’t even trust his own wife, what kind of man is he?”

That one sentence hit Yvonne harder than she expected.

She found herself staring at Marico, sunlight streaming through the windshield, casting his features in sharp, handsome relief. He was striking—cool and stern, yet radiating a kind of integrity rarely seen.

Marico glanced over. “What’s so funny?”

“Mr. Hamilton, you’re the manliest man I’ve ever met! The true definition of a gentleman boss,” Yvonne said with a grin.

Compared to all those calculating, petty men she’d met before, Marico was in a league of his own—the perfect man: wealthy, good-looking, and not the least bit small-minded.

Marico shot her a look, his voice low: “Sounds like you’ve been on a lot of dates.”