HER ONLY HOPE (LK Adaptation)

Part 37

His eyes narrowed thoughtfully. 'And yet, you're a very sensual woman.'

Only with you. She stayed quiet, returning her focus to the chess board and moving a piece into position.

'Why did you marry him?'

The question whipped around Lisa , startling her. She reached for her tea, sipping it, then faced him with the appearance of calm. How could she admit the truth to Jungkook ? How could she tell him that she'd married someone partly because she'd been running from Jungkook , and what she'd felt with him? 'I don't really know,' she said breathily, after a moment. 'I guess I thought I loved him.'

He moved a piece without taking his eyes from her face. She didn't look down at the board immediately. 'But you didn't?'

She dropped her eyes to their game, considering her next move, then lifting her fingers to a piece and driving it across the board, leaning back with satisfaction at her manoeuvre.

She didn't know how to answer his question, and she didn't have to. A moment later he moved on, or perhaps simply changed direction.

'You haven't put on a show in years.'

Her gaze flicked to his. 'How do you know?'

'Your parents,' was his swift, flat response.

'Of course.' It wasn't as though he'd been waiting on tenterhooks for her next art show—it wasn't as though he'd ever been to one.

'How come?'

He responded to her move, but she was barely concentrating.

'I...' She sought one of her ready deflections but none came. With Jungkook , she felt compelled to be honest. 'I lost my mojo for a while there. After Minho , my work took a very dark turn,' she murmured, not admitting to Jungkook  that his rejection of her had played a part in that. The whole world had angered her. 'Then I was a newlywed,' she said with a lift of her shoulders, oblivious to the way Jungkook 's expression darkened, his cheeks gashed with dark colour. 'Mum and Dad were grieving. Other things took priority.' She lifted her shoulders.

'And since your divorce?'

'I'm getting there.' She lifted her shoulders. 'I'm enjoying it again.'

'I'm glad. You're very talented.'

Her eyes narrowed. 'Why would you say that?'

'Because it's true?'

'You haven't seen my art.'

'Haven't I?'

Her heart thumped into her ribs. 'I don't know.' She looked back at the board. 'I presumed not.'

'Your parents have several paintings on the walls.'

Of course. He'd been to their house. It wasn't as though he'd been to an exhibition.

'I would like to see what you've been working on lately.'

Her eyes widened and her pulse kicked up a gear. 'I'm not sure why.'

'Because you're talented,' he repeated and then, more dangerously, 'and because you're my wife.'

Possessive heat burst between them, so much more real now that they'd slept together. He stood swiftly, staring at her face for several beats before holding out his hand. 'Come with me, agape.'

'But the game,' she murmured, even as she placed her hand in his and stood.

'You can beat me in the morning. There are better ways to spend our night.'