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So caring.

So unforgiving.

Way too flipping cray cray to be true, but it is.

How do you survive a marriage with a walking contradiction?

I’m going to keep asking for a long time.

12

CRAZY LITTLE THING (LUCA)

Normally, inventory work makes me want to pull my own nails out with pliers.

The warehouse’s back room is a mess, and I’ve never loved wading through numbers in gritty detail.

Only, these damn reports need to be tallied so I can call it a day. I need all my facts straight before I face Rennick, which could happen anytime.

He could call a meeting demanding an explanation for the drug heist any hour.

By every measure, I should be fucking miserable.

Yet I’m smiling.

Grinning like a silly Cheshire fuckwit as I slog through spreadsheets and PDFs. That has everything to do with my bride.

The way she kissed me last night?

I needed an ice-cold shower the second I left the room, and another one this morning.

All I could do to dampen the urge to grab her and fuck her through the nearest wall.

Probably the wine, making her giddy.

She’s still unsure about this marriage, and why wouldn’t she be?

She was embarrassed after her little outburst against my lips.

Also, she has the most adorable damn blush I’ve ever seen.

Still, I’m going to make sure that on her next day off, we make good use of our time. It’s not just a scheme to haul her into my bed, though it’s definitely that too.

I want her to want it.

I want her in flames, insatiable, her tight little pussy aching for my cock.

I want to destroy her a thousand different ways, mastering her body until she’s mine.

Permanent, claimed, and irrevocable.

While I’m drunk on sex fantasies, elbows-deep in my filing cabinet, looking for printouts from a month ago, my phone goes off.

My little brother, Cris.

The prick has a magic way of calling at the worst possible times.

I almost let it go straight to voicemail because I know why he’s calling, and I’m not sure I want to face the train of shit right now.