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He continue to stroke my face and like a magician who knew the tricks to my body, my chest mimic the slow movements.
“Sweet Mia,” he whispered, his lips a few centimeters from my own, the coolness of his breath escaping into mine, “I don’t intend to step out of my marriage. Our vows are sacred.”
His index finger slowly trailed down to my chin lifting my face, my eyes -no doubt- filled with desire as my husband’s rock-hard body covered mine.
Then in one swift dip of his head, he kissed my lips, the loose strands of his beard stabbing my skin but I didn’t care as I moved my lips against his own. He deepened the kiss, never rushing but acting like we had all the time in the world to feast on the softness of each other. It reminded me of our wedding day.
His tongue teased my own as he moved it in and out, his grip on my chin tightening. He was slow and gentle, something I didn’t think possible for a man of his size.
My husband’s excitement dug into my stomach causing low moans to erupt from my throat and him to pull away. We stared at each other, trying to catch our breath.
“My family will be visiting tomorrow,” he said, his voice several tones deeper.
“Okay,” I said, my eyes darting to his lips again.
But Elias didn’t continue his assault on my lips, instead, he pulled away from me and smoothed his jacket before walking out of the door to his office leaving me dazzled and confused, but most of all yearning for my husband’s touch.
Chapter Twelve
ELIAS
Imarched to my office, away from the temptress that was my wife. It thrilled me to know that Mia was afraid that I wouldn’t honor our marriage; she was jealous, anticipating that I would rut around this country, soiling her name and disrespecting our vows.
She wasn’t as aloof as she thought herself to be.
And I was proud that she was voicing her opinions and concerns. She was becoming more comfortable and in turn, not limiting herself.
Yet, the anger of a thousand men whirled in me that she thought to mute herself in the first place, and the obvious recoil to my touch. She thought I would hit her like that disgrace, Ilya.
If he wasn’t in the ground already, I would have killed him; made him suffer for what he did to my sweet Mia.
He needed to feel every lash, every blow, that he inflicted on my wife’s perfect, rich skin.
And I promised he would. Maybe not in this lifetime but I would track him down to the bowels of hell and make him pay.
I never claimed to be the perfect, doting husband but I would protect my wife, come hell or highwaters. She was mine and I took care of what belonged to me.
Pulling me from my thoughts was a knock at my door. I sighed.
No rest for the wicked.
“Come.”
In walked, Liam in his usual three-piece suit with a fuming Michael behind him. I pinched the bridge of my nose.
I didn’t want to deal with Michael’s shit right now. It was the least important thing I had to deal with.
But somehow my brother-in-law believed that Ilya’s bastard fucking up his men was a problem for me.
Michael surpassed Liam and walked to my desk, his finger pointing at me.
He didn’t get too close to it before Liam put a hand to his chest, “That’s enough, Flores.”
“Fuck you,” Michael said to Liam, pushing his hand from his person. I sat back, waiting to hear the whims of this grown brat, my fingers drumming against the desk.
“You were supposed to honor your deal. I have lost men. Good men that had fucking families,” he shouted, his frustration causing the vein in his neck to pop.
“I did honor our deal, Michael…Marry your sister for your suppliers and in turn, I protect her from Alexsei. As far as I’m concerned, she’s the safest that she has ever been. I don’t intend to let my men die for your war.”
