He laughs darkly, low and satisfied. “Now you can come.”
He slams back into me hard, fucking me with deep, punishing strokes. The orgasm crashes over me violently.
My whole body jerks and convulses, my walls clamping down around him like a vice as I cry out his name again and again.
He doesn’t stop. He keeps thrusting through my orgasm. “That’s it, baby. Milk my cock. Take every fucking drop like the perfect little wife you are.”
With a deep, guttural groan, he buries himself to the hilt and comes hard, spilling inside me in thick, hot pulses. I come again with him, my body shuddering as he fills me completely.
We stay like that for a long moment, both of us breathing hard. He helps me stand fully, and presses his forehead against my back as we catch our breath.
Then he slowly pulls out of me, making me whimper at the loss. He turns me around gently, one strong arm wrapping around my waist to hold me steady because my legs feel like jelly.
Without a word, he lifts me into his arms, carrying me bridal-style out of the study and up the stairs toward our bedroom.
I rest my head against his chest, listening to the steady, strong beat of his heart.
He doesn’t stop in the bedroom. He carries me straight into the bathroom, setting me down only long enough to turn on the shower.
Warm water cascades down as he helps me out of my dress and panties, then sheds his own clothes. Steam fills the large glass enclosure as he guides me under the spray.
The moment the hot water hits my skin, I sigh in pleasure. Maxim steps in behind me, pulling my back against his chest. He reaches for the shampoo, and I smile softly when I feel his fingers slide into my hair.
He loves washing my hair.
I’ve noticed it more than once now, the way he takes his time, massaging my scalp with slow, firm circles, working the lather through every strand with such care. It feels heavenly. Intimate. I lean back into him, eyes closed.
Maybe from now on, I’ll leave the task of washing my hair entirely to him.
He rinses it thoroughly, then conditions it. And after he's done, he proceeds to wash my body, hands gliding over my shoulders, my breasts, my stomach, and between my thighs with tender reverence.
His aftercare is top-notch. Almost worshipful.
And I find myself yearning for more of his touch already.
In this moment, with his hands in my hair and his heartbeat steady against my back, I realize something dangerous.
I’m starting to fall for my husband.
CHAPTER TWENTY-SIX
Maxim
The next day, members of The Pantheon attend the Society’s weekly meeting at the private headquarters.
The grand room is filled with the most powerful men in our world. Pakhans, cartel leaders, politicians, and billionaires who control empires from the shadows.
Ivan, the president, stands at the head of the table and raises his glass toward me with a broad smile.
“First of all, let me congratulate Maxim Orlov on his recent wedding,” he announces to the entire room. “It’s unfortunate we weren’t invited. We would have loved to celebrate with you.”
I incline my head respectfully. “Thank you, Ivan. It was nothing personal. We wanted something intimate. Unfortunately, even that small gathering was attacked.”
A ripple of surprise and murmurs spreads through the room. I keep my gaze locked on Adrian the entire time I speak.
The bastard is trying to look concerned, but I catch the small, smug twitch at the corner of his mouth, the glint of satisfaction in his eyes.
Every last doubt I had disappears. He was behind it.
