Page 41 of Tempted By the Bosshole

Finally, we still and lie limply together. Her trembling moan blends with my gruff sigh. I kiss her cheeks, licking up her spilling tears.

“Such a good girl,” I croon in her ear. “Rest.”

She gives me a tired nod. In the mirror, I see her eyes slide closed. Seconds later, she drifts off.

I smile and hold my wife close. For the first time in years, I’m optimistic about the future. Isabella is going to be a perfect wife for me, and we’re going to have amazing kids. This isn’t just revenge anymore. It’s a chance for every one of my dreams to come true.

Under me, she sighs in her sleep. I stay buried deep inside her, nuzzle her fragrant neck, and cuddle her. I can’t remember the last time I felt this content, this connected to another person. I know I’ve never been as determined to make a relationship last as I am now. Losing Isabella would be catastrophic. It would decimate me.

Holy shit. Am I falling in love?

I’m afraid to answer that question. That’s a tomorrow-me problem. Maybe in the light of day, with clothes on and the memory of our pleasure in my rearview mirror, I can put tonight into perspective.

In the meantime, I can’t forget my revenge. Nothing can make me forgo that.

Reluctantly, I pull free from my wife’s body, taking a moment to appreciate the sight of my seed spilling from her still-swollen pussy. Fuck, if that doesn’t have me hard again. But I need to take care of business before I indulge again.

Rolling Isabella to her back, I brush errant curls from her red-cheeked face, lift her up the bed, and position her amid the rose petals. Then I drag her discarded wedding dress beside her, grab my phone, and cover her naked body with my own. Finding the right angle for this selfie that hints but doesn’t show my wife’s nudity while still capturing her wedding dress and the big banner in the background proclaiming us just married takes patience, but finally I get the perfect shot with all the elements and a bonus of my five o’clock shadow’s abrasion on her soft neck. Even with her eyes closed, Isabella looks well fucked.

The shot turns out perfect. There’s no way Doug can misconstrue this.

Though I don’t know my former pal’s phone number anymore, I know my ex-wife’s. That’s the next best thing.

My thumbs fly across my screen as I load the pic into a text and tell her to pass the photo along to her deadbeat of a fiancé with one message:

An eye for an eye, motherfucker.

Then I turn my phone off, set it aside, and swallow a sip of Isabella’s champagne before I crawl back into bed, prod her swollen pussy with my cock, and kiss her awake until she delights me with more of her cries before finally begging me to unload inside her again. I comply with a hoarse growl and a smile.

* * *

Isabella

I can’t wipe the loopy grin off my face when Nathan lifts me from the rumpled bed and settles me into the huge tub for two in our suite. He thoughtfully sprinkled the rose petals from our bed into the steaming bath. As soon as the water closes around me, I sigh.

He hands me another glass of champagne. “Happy, Mrs. Price?”

“Hmm.” More than I probably should be. The idea that I could soon be pregnant doesn’t horrify me in the least.

God, I sound like I’ve lost my marbles. I don’t know the man I married well, and the idea of having a ruthless stranger’s child should terrify me. A baby is a big responsibility. What kind of father will he be? For that matter, am I ready for motherhood at twenty-three? On the other hand, Nathan is handing me everything I’ve wanted for years on a silver platter. Home. Belonging. Family. Love?

He never mentioned that…

“Need anything else?” he asks.

“A kiss?” I shouldn’t invite him closer or risk falling for him more. I should remember that he’s using me. But after the way he just made love to me? I can’t resist. Despite his manipulation, I’m falling for him, and I don’t know how to stop.

He climbs into the tub beside me and settles into the water before pulling me against his body and covering my lips with his lips in a solemn kiss that sucks me deeper under his spell. “Always. You don’t even have to ask. I’ll always want you. Only you.”

My heart clenches. “You don’t know that.”

“I do. I’m old enough to be sure of who I am and what will make me happy. That’s you, baby girl. You’re everything I could have asked for.”

Does he mean any of the things he says? I don’t know, and I struggle for a reply as I swirl the petals around the warm tub. “I don’t have your experience. I only know what I don’t want: Eric. But this, everything between us, is happening so fast.”

“I know our marriage seems sudden to you. But I’ve been planning this for almost a year.”

His words nearly make me choke. “A year?”

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