Page 69 of Sinful Bride

Slowly. Sensually. And in such an innocent way, because she isn’t looking at me at all while I watch her savor it.

“You’re right,” she says between licks. “We needed this. Normal. Casual.” She gazes out over the water and sighs. “It’s really beautiful here.”

I take her left hand in my right, toying with my rings on her finger. “Still not as beautiful as you.”

That lovely shade of pink crawls up her neck to her cheekbones. “You’re just saying that because I’m wearing exactly what you wanted.”

“Not at all. You’re beautiful without anything on.” I grin as I watch her grow even pinker. “It’s just particularly arousing to see you walking around in something I chose for you. It’s like you’re wearing me. You know I love it when you’re covered in me.”

Her tongue flicks over her top lip to catch a droplet of cream. I’m so tempted to lick the next stray drip myself. “Sir. Sir. We are in public.”

“And? Is that not the point? People need to see us in public. They need to see us enjoying life as a married couple.”

They need to see how much you mean to me—just in case anyone gets any ideas about fucking with our family.

Daphne finishes her ice cream, looking me in the eyes as she does. She knows exactly what she’s doing to me, the wicked woman.

“Who is this ‘they’?” Daphne asks. “I feel like I should get to know all the players in this crazy world we live in.”

“Oh, you never know,” I reply. “Paparazzi. Police. Crazy exes.”

She snorts and rolls her eyes. “Like Paris?”

“Paris is not an ex.”

“Did you sleep with her?”

When did this suddenly become an interrogation? “Sleep was not involved.”

“Did your body parts end up inside her body parts?”

“Yes.”

“Then she’s your ex.”

“There was no relationship.”

“For you.”

I want to argue, but she has a fair point. Paris has been emailing me relentlessly, begging me for a second chance at her job and whatever else she thought she had with me.

The last response I sent her was a screenshot of our formal wedding announcement, attached to a cease and desist notice drafted by my lawyers. All subsequent emails from her—including the ones begging me to call her and explain—are now automatically forwarded to the legal team.

“Fair enough.” I’m also giving her the win in this debate because I’d count any man who touched her before me as an ex. Just the thought of any man touching her makes me bristle. I shudder and pull Daphne closer to me. “It’s also for the feds.”

Her brow arches. “Oh? Worried that they’re snooping around?”

“Not at all. That’s the point. They get worried when I’m not worried. It makes them think I’m up to something they should be looking into.”

She glances up at me. “Are you? Up to something, I mean?”

I smirk. “I’m always up to something.”

It’s good for us to have this little talk, somewhat vague as it is, because it’s part of the life she’s now living with me. I always have something in play. I’m always moving in the shadows.

“Can I ask you something?” She looks up at me inquisitively. “Why do you do it? Your, ah… your work?”

“I was born into it.”

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