Page 45 of Sinful Bride

Until I have everything on SAC Smithson, I am going to assume that the feds will always dig.

But they’d better make sure they come knocking with both paperwork and balls of steel. If not, my lawyers and my Bratva will rip them to fucking pieces.

Or worse yet—I’ll do the ripping myself.

When I get home, Taty is sound asleep in her crib in the nursery. Mama is reading a book in the rocking chair, keeping a diligent eye on her. Daphne’s masseuse gives me a polite nod before heading out with her table and bag.

Everything seems calm and peaceful here. No invading feds, no gunslinging rivals, no skeevy future in-laws trying to steal my baby.

Realistically, I could have just stayed at the corporate building and let things be.

But I can’t focus on work when there’s even a fraction of a chance that my family is at risk.

I head into the bedroom to shuck off the formal outerwear of corporate bullshit. I’m pulling my tie off when Daphne emerges from the bathroom, enveloped in a cloud of steam and dripping wet.

And naked.

“Oh! Hi.” She smiles and grabs a towel to wrap around herself. “I didn’t think you’d be back until later.”

“Here I am.” My mouth feels dry. I swallow and try to focus on something else. Something other than the way thin rivulets of water drip from her hair and trail over the curves of her breasts…

“I, ah, had some things come up.” I finish slipping off my tie and toss it onto the bed. Fuck, I shouldn’t have done that. Now, I want to use it to tie her to the posts.

I swore I wouldn’t touch her while she recovers. But no one said this would be easy. I sleep every night next to her tempting curves and feel her warm softness rubbing against me. I’ve jacked off to memories of her at least a dozen times in the shower.

“Everything okay?” She furrows her brow and hugs the towel a bit tighter to her chest.

God, I want to rip it off and take her. Right here, right now.

Focus.

“Everything’s fine, actually.” She doesn’t need to worry herself over the problems that are literally pacing outside our door. “I have a surprise for you. Get dressed.”

I go to her dresser and rummage through the drawers until I find what I’m looking for. “Here. Wear this.”

“Okay, Mister Bossy.” She eyes me suspiciously, a smirk tugging at the corner of her mouth. But, just as I anticipated, she doesn’t argue and instead takes the clothing and turns for the bathroom.

“In here.”

Daphne blushes again. “But I’m?—”

“Not about to deprive me of the view.”

Pink turns to bright red. I fucking love it.

I stride over to her and tug on the knot of her towel so it drops to the floor. Fuck, I’m rock hard and aching from the sight alone, not to mention the proximity. I can smell her and it’s intoxicating. “Allow me.”

“I’m able to put my own clothes on now, you know.”

“I know. That’s not the point.”

Something close to realization dawns on her face when I slip her nursing bra on and fasten the hooks behind her back.

“What’s next?” she asks, a little breathier this time.

I drop to my knees, procuring a pair of silky panties I snatched from the top drawer. Daphne balances herself with my shoulders as she steps in, one leg at a time, and allows me to slide them up her thighs.

But before I pull them all the way up into place, I pause.

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