Ex Cried as I Wed a Tycoon novel Chapter 226

Ecstatic. Absolutely over the moon.

Lyman had never experienced such a wild swing of emotions in so short a time—his heart soared and plummeted like he was on a roller coaster, equal parts thrilling and terrifying.

“Honey, give me a kiss.”

He blinked in surprise; Effie had never been this forward before.

But they were still in the car, and their driver was right up front.

The driver stiffened under Lyman's gaze, wishing, not for the first time, that he could simply disappear into thin air.

Mr. Etheridge, if you so much as say a word, I swear I'll gouge my own eyes out.

“Keep your eyes on the road,” Lyman said, his voice low and commanding, carrying an authority that brooked no argument.

“Yes, sir. You have my word—I won't look back,” the driver replied, swallowing hard, tension radiating from his posture.

Before Effie could react, Lyman was already leaning in, intent on stealing that kiss.

But just as he reached for her, Effie, nestled sleepily in his arms, dozed off again.

Outwardly, Lyman managed to keep his composure, but inside, his mind was a chaotic sea of emotions.

By the time they made it home, Effie was still in a deep, untroubled sleep—completely oblivious, dead to the world.

Lyman considered helping her change out of her clothes, but the moment his fingers brushed her shirt buttons—and accidentally skimmed her skin—a jolt shot up his arm. It was like an electric current, tingling and sharp, making his breath hitch.

He felt a sudden, almost painful tightness low in his abdomen and swallowed, hard.

Watching Effie, completely knocked out and totally unresponsive, he could only sigh.

“Gemma, could you please come upstairs and help Mrs. Etheridge get changed?”

Lyman didn't take his eyes off her. “You don't remember?”

She shook her head, but immediately regretted it as pain radiated through her skull.

He looked as if he wanted to keep sulking, but her obvious discomfort made his expression soften with concern. “Are you okay? You were so drunk last night, I tried to get you to drink some hangover remedy before bed, but you were out cold—completely impossible to wake. I could barely even get you to sit up.”

Effie blushed at the mental image. “I mean… you could've… maybe tried mouth to mouth…”

Her voice trailed off, growing smaller and smaller until it was barely more than a squeak. She stared down at her hands, too mortified to meet his eyes.

Lyman couldn't help it—a laugh burst out of him.

“You really think I'd kiss you when you were that far gone? You threw up, you know.”

In truth, last night, in the heat of the moment, even his usual fastidiousness had nearly gone out the window. If only…