Page 199 of My Husband’s New Fiancée

The hand that was removing his tie freezes in mid-air for a heartbeat before continuing its descent.

I slide the zipper of my skirt down, and the fabric pools at my feet. Dante’s gaze ignites at the sight of the garter belt holding up my black stockings and thong. He swallows hard. I can see his trousers tighten visibly as he begins to unbutton his shirt, almost unconscious of his own movements. I take a step to the side to push my skirt away and prepare to peel off my stockings when he stops me with a firm gesture.

“No. Stay like that. I want you with your lingerie on.”

I stand there, motionless, watching him strip. His shirt opens to reveal a chest and abs I want to sink my teeth into. And when he finally frees his hardness, I nearly swoon from sheer desire. In two strides, he’s on me, claiming my lips again. His tongue meets mine; the taste of him is addictive. I want more. He makes me completely unravel; I lose all control.

I don’t even remember how we ended up there, but suddenly I’m with him under the spray of the hot shower. I’m pressed against the wall with him behind me, his hands freeing my breasts from their lace cups while his mouth lingers on my neck. I can feel his erection pressing hard against my backside.

One hand leaves my breast to slide beneath my thong, searching for my clitoris. He caresses me everywhere—with his hands, his mouth, his entire body.

“Tell me what you want...” he whispers, his voice barely coherent.

“You.”

He brings his face close to mine and we kiss just as his hand pulls my thong aside, allowing him to penetrate me slowly.

“Fuck...” he groans.

Our lips part and he begins to move, sliding in and out of me in short, sharp thrusts. It’s so intense. I moan; he growls. Waves of pleasure crash through me, building in intensity. His hands grip my hips, his pace quickening. The water pours over us, amplifying the sound of our skin slapping together. I’m shaking with pleasure.

“Yes, yes... right there...”

“Do you want more?”

“Yesss... please. More.”

I’m nearly folded in half, him wrapped tightly around me. His hands give my nipples a light pinch before letting go. The pleasure crashes through me so hard I nearly lose my footing. I clench around him.

His rhythm becomes erratic.

Then everything explodes.

We collapse together onto the bathroom floor, breathless.

As we slowly come back down to earth, I burst out laughing.

“Fuck. Let’s do that again whenever you want.”

He smiles and helps me up. Then, very gently, he removes my soaked lingerie and tosses it aside before beginning to wash me.

His touch becomes infinitely gentler.

Much later, we finally sit down to eat. The dinner is light and cheerful. We talk about the future—the houses we’re going to visit and how we want to design them. I barely touch my champagne, but he doesn’t even notice, still lost in the haze of our ecstasy.

We don’t stay up late; he has a long day ahead of him tomorrow. As always, the moment I lie down, he pulls me against him. Firmly. His arms wrap around me with that familiar urgency: the fear that if he lets go, I might disappear again.

One day, I’ll have to help him let go of that fear.

Especially now.

I stay curled against his chest, my lips brushing his warm skin.

“I have something important to tell you.”

“I’m listening.”

His voice is low.