Page 69 of Outcast’s Vow

“This is ours. This place.”

I feel his hand on my cheek. It just rests there. He’s as exhausted as I am.

“Welcome home,” Baptiste says, voice low.

I lean forward, laying my head on his chest. So, the man is sweet under his hardness. Sentimental, even. A softie. My own study room? I mean, Christ...

This is the closest I’ve gotten to understanding him. And it’s taken me this much to break through.

I wish I could find out more.

26

BAPTISTE

I watch my wife from our bed as she gets ready for her day. She slips into black leggings, starting from her feet, over her calves, along her thighs. The way she does it is so smooth and delicate. Utterly normal for her, but incredibly sexy for me. My jaw clenches, and my fist grips the bedsheets as my longing for her intensifies with each layer she puts on. She doesn’t have a clue that I’m watching her.

She doesn’t have a clue how she’s killing me.

She softly hums to herself as she puts on a long-sleeve knit sweater dress in a deep burgundy. It fits so snugly and yet so devotedly to her elegant figure. Over it, she throws a dark brown wool coat and a long scarf. And then comes the best part...

A pair of knee-high black leather boots.

Fierce. Powerful. So very, very Sylvie.

She looks stunning, and she doesn’t even know it. She’s so casual as she checks herself out in the mirror and fixes her lipstick. She probably thinks I’m drifting back off to sleep and not going insane at the sight of her.

Her soft scent drifts through the bedroom. It’s a warning for me. This is going too far.

Over the last few days, this woman has done things to me that I once thought were impossible.

She’s a fighter. A woman who stood up to me and dictated the terms of our marriage. A man like me needs a woman to challenge him. To empower him. To make him work. To make him achieve the most in every aspect of life. And Sylvie is that kind of woman.

My kind.

As I consume the sight of her getting ready, I try to place a word to the feeling that’s wildly spiraling inside of me. It’s certainly not something I’ve experienced before, and it fucking terrifies me.

Spinning around from the mirror, Sylvie looks at me from across the room. She frowns.

“What are you smiling at?”

“Nothing.”

I’m not blind to what she’s been trying to do since the honeymoon – her attempts to peel me apart, strip me down, and see my innermost thoughts. To dig into my weaknesses and my past.

But she needs to know I don’t let people do that. It’s how I’ve survived this long.

“You sure? What is it, Baptiste?”

My smile widens.

“Just my wife looking like she’s going to fight the world, and she’ll win.”

Her breath catches.

“Oh.”

“Have a good day, Highness.”