Page 78 of His Nephew's Ex
“I’ve married the most magnificent woman in existence,” I correct, shouldering open our bedroom door. “The stubbornness is just part of your considerable charm.”
I set her down carefully beside our bed, my hands reluctant to release their claim on her. In the candlelight, she looks like something carved from ivory and starlight—beautiful beyond reason, dangerous beyond measure, absolutely mine in ways that make my chest tight with possession.
“Mrs. Codella,” I say, testing the name on my tongue and finding it perfect.
“Mr. Codella,” she replies, but there’s mischief dancing in her eyes. “Though I should warn you that marriage doesn’t make me any more obedient.”
“Thank God for that.” I reach for the pins holding her hair in its elegant updo, letting the dark waves cascade over her shoulders. “I didn’t marry you for obedience,stellina. I married you for the fire that burns in everything you do.”
Her hands find the buttons of my shirt, working them with deliberate slowness that makes my blood heat. “And what did I marry you for?”
“Protection,” I say, catching her wrists to still her movements. “Safety. Security. All the things you claimed to want since the moment you walked into my office.”
“Liar.” She pulls free and continues her assault on my clothing. “I married you because you make me feel alive in ways I never knew were possible. Because you’re dangerous and controlled and absolutely devastating when you lose that control.”
“You want to see me lose control?” The question comes out rougher than intended, edged with the hunger I’ve been restraining since the moment she appeared in that ivory dress.
“On our wedding night?” Her smile is pure sin. “I’m counting on it.”
The last of my restraint snaps like overtaxed wire. In one fluid motion, I lift her back into my arms and carry her to the bed, laying her down with the reverence due to something precious and irreplaceable.
“You have no idea what you’ve just unleashed,” I warn. My hands find the zipper of her dress.
“Then show me,” she breathes, arching toward my touch with the kind of surrender that makes my blood sing with triumph.
The journey of her zipper reveals silk and lace beneath, an unexpected treasure trove. Unable to resist, I stroke my fingers across the lace’s intricate webbing, appreciating the way it makes her shiver.
“Tell me, Mrs. Codella, is this for my pleasure or yours?”
“Both,” she says, writhing against the mattress in a way that makes her creamy breasts swell against the thin silk.
Caught by some strange force beyond my control, I trace the webwork from her chest to her ribs, letting desire take thedriver’s seat as I linger on soft curves that beckon, forbidden and lush. She answers my wordless demands with abandon, arching beneath my hands, taking what she wants with shameless sensuality.
“Slowly,” she orders, her breath coming in fast gasps. “Draw this out. Make me beg for the climax.”
Her language surprises me and drives me wild all at once. The kind of demands men like me usually make. But the words sound different in her mouth, feel different hearing them breathed out against my skin, taste different against her lips.
Every plea, every sigh, every gasp speaks to something deep inside me—to the primitive need that breaks free of restraint when it’s just the two of us. This is the gift she’s given me. Lust without fear, passion without shame, an unshackling of desires that taste bitter in anyone else’s mouths.
“Marriage becomes you,stellina.”
I brush aside the delicate fabric guarding her soft stomach, following the webwork past her navel to where it comes to an abrupt end. She sucks in a hard breath, her anticipation creating a static electric charge in the scant inches between us.
My desire sharpens to a weapon’s edge, ready and willing to do my bidding. I roll my tongue over the taut flesh, smiling at the way her back arches off the bed as I press first one, then two, then three of my fingers along the edge of her panties.
“Simeone,” she begs.
“Ask again,” I purr, using my teeth to draw her lace upward. “A little more gently.”
“Please.” The single word holds the weight of eternity.
I draw her panties down her long legs with infuriating slowness, tasting every inch of creamy skin along the way. Salt, sweet, sultry. Over the long muscles and back down the insides, across the small bones, sucking the tender parts until she writhes beneath me.
“Need more,” she demands, her voice breathless and demanding.
“Beg,” I whisper against her thigh.
“Please,” she whispers. “Now. Oh, God, now.”
