Page 73 of Vicious Heir

“Thank you,” he says.

“I know I’m a great kisser, but no thanks are necessary.”

He squeezes my ass hard. “You know what I mean.”

I lightly brush him away. My cheeks are burning, and my head’s a dizzy mess of lust, but I do have standards. He can’t just disappear for months and suddenly start fondling me again.

A girl needs a little foreplay first.

“I’m here for you, that’s all.”

“I don’t know why.”

I gesture around us. “Because… because I’m your wife. And you need someone to be there for you.”

“You don’t owe me that.” He seems genuinely confused. “This was supposed to be an arrangement.”

My stomach falls. I turn away, wrapping my arms around myself. “I know that. You don’t have to remind me.”

“Wait,” he says, stepping toward me. He grabs my wrist before I can duck inside. “Don’t pull away.”

“I’m the one pulling away?”

“Right now, yes.”

“Hilarious coming from my husband the ghost.”

His jaw flexes. “I know I haven’t been very present for you lately.”

“Understatement.”

“I haven’t been a good man.” His grip on my wrist tightens. I look down at the line on his jaw. It’s healed now, but there’s still a light white scar left behind. “The war’s been hard, and being here hasn’t made it easier. I lost my mother in this house. I lost my father too. But that’s not a good excuse.”

“You really don’t have to explain.”

“Yes, I do.” He moves closer, tugging me into him. I press my hands to his chest, trying to put space between us, but he doesn’t let me go. A cool breeze blows in across the front porch, and a nearby wind chime rattles. “You’ve been patient. You didn’t ask for any of this.”

“Neither did you.” I stare into his dark eyes. A storm’s brewing in him. “My grandmother pushed you into this war.”

“She’s not the reason I’m fighting it.” He leans closer. His mouth brushes my neck. “I could give you up. That would end things.”

A chill runs down my spine. Just from the wind? “You could do that.”

“We both know I can’t.”

“Adriano—”

“I’m sorry. I shouldn’t have disappeared on you these last few months.”

“You left me roses. You bought me clothes.”

“You made me espresso.”

“You watered my plants.”

“I dreamed about you every fucking night.”

I bury my face in his chest. I’m breathing fast, my stomach a mess of fear and elation. “Then why didn’t you just come to bed?”

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