The Older Man She Craves Can Hear Every Naughty Word In Her Head Chapter 10

The Older Man She Craves Can Hear Every Naughty Word In Her Head Chapter 10

That letter “n” burned into my eyes. 

I was stunned. 

As the comments vanished, I blurted out the rest 

of the word without thinking. 

Panic shot through me. 

But Atticus didn’t react at all! 

I realized then that when the comments 

disappeared, Atticus’s ability to hear my thoughts 

was gone too. 

I almost jumped for joy. “You can’t hear me 

anymore!” 

Atticus finally snapped back to his senses. He strained to listen for my thoughts, but there was only silence–pure frustration and helplessness. 

After a long while, his eyes reddened. “Yeah… I 

can’t hear anymore… I can’t tell what you like or dislike. I can’t make you happy… how long will you like me like this? I’m ten years older than you. We’re not even from the same generation.” 

I saw how much he’d relied on reading my mind. “It was just a cheat code. It’s not worth missing. We’ll 

learn about each other as we live together–like 

how you remember what food I like.” 

He held me tightly and said nothing. 

When my parents found out that I had gone from marrying Theodore to marrying his father instead, 

they pointed at me and yelled until, eventually, they 

just got so frustrated that they started laughing in 

disbelief. 

“You turned down the young one for the older 

man?” 

“Do you have any idea how much older Atticus is? 

A few more years and he’d be old enough to be 

your father!” 

“How did we end up with such a freak?” 

I let their words go in one ear and out the other, 

smiling carelessly. “Theodore already has a 

girlfriend. If you still want a marriage alliance with 

the Parker family, it has to be Atticus and me. Take 

it or leave it.” 

I picked at my fingers so hard they almost bled. 

My parents fumed with rage, but in the end, they 

could do nothing. 

Family interests came first. 

Life after the marriage was much the same as 

before. 

The only difference was that Atticus started 

coming home from work even earlier–now it was 

6:30. 

But more often than not, I was still out having fun. 

I painted, posted my artwork on social media, and 

gained a huge following. 

Some called me a genius at black–and–white line 

art. 

Some people said my art was so grim that two 

seconds of looking at it and you’d need a 

therapist. 

I wasn’t having it. I took a photo of the actual 

scene and posted it as proof. [I’m a realist!] 

The next day, it hit the trending topics. 

[We’re your online fans, not your funeral guests. 

Art can be down–to–earth, but not six feet under.] 

[How does a perfectly normal scene turn so gloomy the moment it passes through your eyes?] 

[I mean, all art students are a little… you know. 

Maybe go see a doctor?] 

“Mean words hurt!” I closed my tablet in a huff and 

decided to go find more scenery to draw. 

had just stepped out when Atticus came home. 

He asked the butler where I’d gone. The butler 

scratched his head. “Heard she went out to paint.” 

I passed the Arts Alley when a familiar melody. 

caught my ear. 

I pushed through the crowd and squeezed 

forward. 

This man played even better than Theodore. Slow notes poured from his knobby fingers like. 

moonlight spilled across the floor. 

It was enchanting. 

Thunderous applause filled the air. 

The man on stage stood up and bowed. 

– 

I finally saw his face slim, sharp features, those 

soft eyes with slightly upturned corners, more. gentle than I remembered. He wore gold–rimmed 

glasses and a perfectly tailored white suit. The 

moment you looked at him, you couldn’t look 

away. 

What was he doing in Westfield Heights? 

Wasn’t he supposed to be…. 

I stepped toward him without thinking, but a hand 

wrapped around my waist. “Fefe, it’s time to go. 

home for dinner.” 

Atticus had appeared out of nowhere, his voice 

soft. 

I let him lead me away, glancing back once we 

cleared the crowd. 

Perhaps because we were the only ones leaving, 

the man on stage looked right at me. 

Our eyes met, and his expression shifted at once. 

His lips moved silently, “Fefe…” 

Thud. 

A stone dropped into water. 

Ripples spread through my heart. 

“Let’s go.” 

Atticus’s voice pulled me back. 

I hid my strange feeling and smiled at him. “Okay. 

What’s for dinner tonight?” 

“Whatever you want.” He laced his fingers through mine. “I’ll make anything you like.” 

That night, Atticus’s hands–wearing both a diamond ring and a plain band–cupped my face. His nose brushed mine. “You’re distracted.” 

I melted into his kiss, a faint tingle lingering on my tongue where the metal ball had touched me. 

I stared at him hazily, my voice lazy and teasing. “…Hmm?” 

His kisses trailed lower. “I’ve always wanted to ask you… why did you like me the second we met?” 

I trembled slightly. 

My gaze drifted from his hair to the white ceiling. “Why… Your beautiful hands. Your voice. Your smiling eyes…” 

He freed up his mouth to kiss my lips again. “So you liked me only because I have the same traits as your first love? I’m his replacement?” 

I shook my head. 

My fingertips brushed the corners of his eyes. “No. It’s just my type. Preferences are hard to change, especially sexual ones.” 

Atticus’s body trembled slightly. His eyes glistened, and a cold tear fell onto my collarbone, 

silent. “Fefe, I believe you. Don’t lie to me. 

Otherwise… I don’t know what I might do.” 

Seeing him fall from that high place of steady 

control after losing the ability to hear my thoughts 

-seeing him become so insecure and fearful of 

loss–I felt a wave of tender affection for him. 

I said nothing. 

I only kissed him in answer. 

The next day, the butler scratched his head and 

asked me. “Why does Mr. Parker suddenly want to 

learn piano?” 

I smiled and shrugged. “No idea.” 

Probably just the silver fox’s fear of being 

replaced, pushing him to be better. 

Silver fox? Totally worth it.