Page 63 of Owned Bratva Bride
I ended the kiss.
“Baby,” I crooned, my hands on both sides of her face. “Don’t push me. I don’t trust myself to hold back.”
“Baby? Since when?”
“Since now,” I revealed, lifting her chin to drop a kiss on her swollen lips.
My thumb grazed her lip.
“Have you had dinner yet?”
She shook her head.
“Eat with me.”
She raised a brow, asking a silent question.
“I’ll shower and be down in ten minutes,” I told her, going ahead into the bedroom.
I didn’t try to push the thoughts of our kiss away as I showered.
Why should I?
She’s my wife now.
She was mine to hold and protect.
I thought back to when the endearment slipped past my lips.
I wasn’t thinking. I didn’t realize I said it out loud. But it wasn’t a huge surprise, either. I’d been referring to her that way in my mind for several hours.
“You’re going to walk around in joggers and tees every day now?” Marielle asked as she stepped out of the kitchen.
She sat to my left, just like we did before we became a couple.
“How does it feel?”
“Um, what?” she asked, bringing her eyes from her food to my face.
“Being married.”
“How it’s supposed to be, I guess. We’re not exactly married by choice, are we?” she asked, chuckling lightly.
Deflecting. Something I’d discovered she did when she was uncomfortable or feeling awkward.
“I had a choice,” I pointed out.
She didn’t say anything, and I didn’t push.
“Where’s your phone?” I asked her after a few minutes of eating in silence.
“Upstairs. Why?”
“How can I not have my wife’s phone number?”
She turned back to her food too quickly to be unaffected.
I wasn’t unaffected either.
