Return To Love's Embrace

Three days after the divorce, Sharon Howe met her ex-husband, Tristan Fuller, again—in bed.

It never occurred to Sharon that such a ridiculous thing would happen to her. It felt like a scene straight out of a movie!

In the dim lounge, a man that reeked of alcohol was pinning her down on top of a soft bed with her hands above her head.

Their faces were mere inches away from each other, the man's scorching hot breath spraying on her neck, causing her to shudder.

Though the lounge was dimly lit, Sharon could vaguely make out Tristan's perfect features.

But he obviously wasn't in the right state of mind; his breath was hot and heavy, his voice extremely hoarse.

"Tristan, what the hell is wrong with you?" Sharon asked, wide-eyed like a frightened rabbit.

"Help me—" Tristan said.

"Fuck off!" Sharon gritted her teeth and hissed at him.

She was about to kick Tristan in the groin, but the man reacted faster than her. He used his knees to pin down her legs while simultaneously climbing on top of her.

"Let go of me, you asshole! Agh—!"

Before she could get another curse out, her lips were sealed with a kiss. The man kissed her almost desperately, as though doing so was the only way he'd survive.

All of a sudden, Sharon felt a pair of hands grabbing at her dress.

The next moment, her clothes were ripped off, exposing her bare skin to the cool air.

But the coldness only lasted for a second. Because soon, his burning hot body was pressed against hers. And the temperature in the lounge rose rapidly.

The atmosphere became thick with passion and romance...

Two hours later, everything went quiet.

Grimacing, Sharon grabbed the clothes that were strewn on the floor and struggled to sit up. She was in so much pain that every movement made her wince. As she put her clothes back on, she turned her head and glanced at the man still in bed, shrouded in darkness.

Tristan's manic aura was gone now that his desires had been satiated.

He had fallen asleep right away, his breathing steady.

Sharon stared at the sleeping man, gnashing her teeth in hatred.

Four years ago, before they got married, Tristan had gotten into a nasty car accident and had fallen into a coma as a result. All the experts in the medical field said that the chance he'd wake up was extremely small.

Santino Fuller felt sorry for his grandson, and he was worried that no one would take care of Tristan, so he decided to choose a wife for him.

The Fuller family was the most powerful one in Slecbury.

Prior to the car accident, countless women would've fallen in line to marry Tristan.

But now that he was a vegetable, he was as good as dead.

No woman in their right mind would dare to even come close to Tristan, let alone marry him. Even if Tristan managed to survive, whoever married him would be doomed to a sexless, joyless marriage. If he died, then his wife would become an undesirable widow.

It just so happened that at the time Santino was looking for a wife for Tristan, Sharon's father, Ryland Holt, was encountering a financial crisis at the company. He needed an investor pronto, or else the company he had worked so hard to establish would go bankrupt.

So, when Santino came to visit, Ryland agreed to the marriage without hesitation.

Santino then used his connections to get the marriage registered.

Despite not having a say in her marriage, Sharon didn't mind so much.

After all, taking care of a vegetable wasn't that hard.

Sharon tended to Tristan for four whole years without complaints.

But five days ago, everything changed.

She was wiping down Tristan's body as usual and massaging his limbs when she suddenly noticed something—Tristan's fingers had twitched!

Sharon felt both shocked and pleasantly surprised, thinking that her less-than-happy life was finally coming to an end.

Alas, the universe had other plans...

After Tristan woke up, the lawyer of the Fuller Group served her divorce papers.

Sharon was shell-shocked. Even if he didn't love her, he should've at least appreciated the fact that she had worked tirelessly to take care of him for four whole years and had given up on her own happiness to be his wife.

But instead of thanking her, he divorced her the moment he woke up.

Did he have no conscience?

As if the divorce wasn't painful enough, he even forced her to sleep with him now!

Did he think she was a cheap woman?!

As Sharon glared at the sleeping Tristan, her eyes turned bloodshot with anger. No matter how hard she tried, she couldn't calm down. In the end, she couldn't stop herself from leaning over and biting down hard on Tristan's cheek.

Tristan, who was fast asleep, groaned in pain.

Sharon didn't let go until the metallic taste of blood filled her mouth.

Nearly choking on the blood, she coughed and pulled away from Tristan, only to see a huge, bleeding bite mark on his cheek.

Still, Tristan didn't wake up.

Sharon watched in a daze as the blood trickled down from his cheek and onto the pillow, staining the white sheets scarlet red. At this scene, Sharon shuddered and snapped back to her senses in an instant.

Damn it.

What on earth did she just do?

Tristan would kill her when he woke up!

Sharon didn't dare to wait until then. Wiping the blood from her mouth, she grabbed the rest of her things and limped out the door, enduring the sharp pain in her crotch area.

"Knock, knock, knock!"

"Hello? Anybody in there?"

Tristan awoke to the sound of someone knocking on the door.

The second he opened his eyes, he felt a stinging sensation on his cheek. Frowning, he reached out and gingerly touched the sore spot, only to feel something wet and sticky—it was blood!

His expression darkened, rage brewing in his eyes.

Recalling what had happened before he fell asleep, Tristan sat up expressionlessly.

He had just woken up from a coma, and his body hadn't fully recovered yet. However, he had been taken good care of in the past four years. Aside from losing some weight, he still had a good figure. He got up, turned on the lights, and looked around, but there was no sign of the woman he had had sex with.

Did she run away?

The man's eyes flashed viciously at the thought.

"Knock! Knock!" The incessant banging on the door pulled Tristan back to his senses.

He grabbed a robe and slipped it on before finally opening the door.

Tristan was considered conventionally handsome, with his thick brows, sharp eyes, prominent nose, and charming lips. It was as though God took great care chiseling his fine features, and as though good looks wasn't enough, he also gave Tristan a domineering and noble aura.

But his handsome face was marred by the bite mark on his cheek.

Outside the door, after persistently knocking on the door for quite a while, Shawn Lambert had half a mind to barge in when the door suddenly swung open. A disheveled-looking Tristan appeared before his eyes. Just as he was about to question why Tristan had been lingering in the lounge for so long, his gaze landed on the red, swollen, and bloodied bite mark on Tristan's face.

Stunned, Shawn blurted, "Tristan— Did you bite yourself in your sleep?"

Tristan was rendered speechless.

But he didn't have to say anything. The look he gave Shawn spoke volumes.

Being stared at as though he was an idiot, Shawn also realized that he had said something stupid.

No one could bite themselves on the face.

He smiled awkwardly and subconsciously took a peek into the lounge.

When he saw the messy bed, he couldn't help but frown. Through the crack of the door, an indescribable smell wafted into his nose.

Shawn's brows shot up in shock.

He was no stranger to sex, so he was familiar with this "scent".

Shawn was stunned. "Tristan, you just woke up a few days ago! You haven't fully recovered yet! I don't care how horny you are, you can't just—"

Tristan's eyes flashed dangerously.

"Shut the fuck up!" His voice was cold as ice, sending a shiver down Shawn's spine.

Shawn obediently clamped his mouth shut.

But he couldn't help but sneak another look at the messy bed. This scene, coupled with Tristan's disheveled look—obviously, something interesting had happened on it.

Shawn and Tristan had practically grown up together and had been friends since they were little.

Once word got out that Tristan had finally woken up from a four-year coma, his friends rushed to the hospital to see him. Shawn even organized a party later on to celebrate.

Everyone got drunk at the party.

The atmosphere was great, and Tristan didn't hold back on the drinks. When the party ended, Shawn saw everyone off one by one. Tristan, on the other hand, rested in the lounge. But he started to feel extreme discomfort soon, as though an uncontrollable desire had set his whole body on fire.

Blinded by desire, he had sex with the first woman he got his hands on.

Tristan glanced at the bloodstains on the bed and pursed his lips.

"Shawn," he said in a low voice.

"Yeah?"

"Find out who spiked my drink."

Shawn wasn't an idiot; he immediately understood what Tristan meant. His face changed slightly, but he wasted no time and said, "I'll look into it right now."

He turned to leave, but stopped in his tracks halfway.

"By the way, Tristan, the boss of Holt Group is waiting outside. He heard that you were having dinner here and came to talk to you about his daughter."

Shawn cracked a grin and joked, "If I didn't know any better, I would've thought he was your father-in-law!"