Page 26 of His Bride

“I asked how you’re feeling,” I repeat, softer this time. “Your cramps… are they better?” It has been a few days since she got her period.

Her blush deepens. “Oh. Yes, much better. Thank you for asking.”

The shy smile she gives me makes my chest tighten. Before I can think better of it, I close the distance between us. My hand cups her cheek, tilting her face up to mine.

“I’m glad,” I say, then capture her lips in a kiss.

Adriana makes a small, startled sound. For a heartbeat, she’s rigid against me. Then, slowly, she melts. Her lips part, soft and pliant under mine. It takes every ounce of self-control not to deepen the kiss, to claim her right here in the kitchen.

When I pull back, Adriana’s eyes are dazed, her cheeks rosy. She looks thoroughly kissed, and satisfaction surges through me.

“I need to shower,” I say, my voice rough with barely contained desire.

As I turn to leave, I catch sight of Sofia. The housekeeper’s face is impassive, but there’s a knowing glint in her eyes. She inclines her head slightly before returning to her cooking.

I stride out of the kitchen, Adriana’s soft gasp of “Dante…” following me down the hall. My name on her lips is sweeter than any symphony.

As I head upstairs, my mind drifts back to the warehouse. The missing drugs gnaw at me, a festering wound in my otherwise ironclad operation. I’ll have to make a call to Carmine and let him know of this.

Sighing, I enter our bedroom. The scent of Adriana lingers here - a delicate floral fragrance that haunts my dreams. I strip quickly, desperate for the cool relief of the shower.

Under the spray, I close my eyes and lean my forehead against the tile. Adriana’s face swims before me - those wide, innocent eyes, that lush mouth. My cock hardens painfully. It’s been a few weeks since I sunk my cock in her delicious cunt on our wedding night. Weeks of holding her as she sleeps, feeling her warm body against mine, smelling the intoxicating scent of her hair. Weeks of aching, burning desire with no release.

“Fuck,” I mutter. I’ve never been this affected by a woman before. Never wanted someone so desperately. The need to possess Adriana, to make her mine in every way, consumes me.

My hand trails down my body, gripping my aching cock. I close my eyes, picturing Adriana. Her shy smile. The way she blushes when I catch her staring. The soft curves of her body pressed against mine when we sleep.

“Adriana,” I groan, stroking myself faster, rougher, imagining it’s Adriana’s soft hand instead of my own. In my mind, she’s here with me, her naked body pressed against mine. I’d lift her easily, pinning her to the shower wall as I thrust into her tight heat. I imagine her breathy moans, the way she’d gasp my name. I’d come in her, mark every inch of her creamy skin with my cum, claiming her as mine.

The pressure builds, coiling tighter. I brace my free hand against the shower wall, my hips jerking as I chase my release. The image of her flushed face, eyes glazed with pleasure, pushes me over the edge. I come with a strangled curse, my seed spilling over my hand.

As the water washes away the evidence, I try to steady my breathing. It’s a poor substitute for what I really want, but it’ll have to do. For now.

I finish showering and dress quickly in dark slacks and a crisp white shirt. My desire for Adriana still simmers, but it’s manageable now. At least until I see her again.

Downstairs, I find her setting the table. She looks up as I enter, a shy smile curving her lips.

“Perfect timing,” she says. “Dinner’s ready.”

I nod, taking my seat at the head of the table. “It smells delicious.”

Adriana sits beside me, smoothing her skirt. “I hope you like it. I tried a new recipe.”

I reach for her hand, squeezing gently. “I’m sure I will.”

I watch Adriana’s face turns red at my touch. Her skin is soft, warm. I want to pull her into my lap, taste those lips, but I restrain myself. Sofia enters with a steaming dish, her eyes flicking between us before she sets it down.

“Thank you, Sofia,” I say, my tone clipped. She nods and retreats to the kitchen.

I serve Adriana first, then myself. The silence stretches, broken only by the clink of cutlery. I need to engage her, draw her out. But my mind’s foggy with lust, making small talk difficult.

“How was your day?” I finally ask, cursing my lack of finesse.

Adriana looks up, “It was uneventful. I didn’t do much work. I spent most of the day reading a book, talking to my friend Valentina and helping Sofia cook lunch and dinner.”

I nod. “I see.”

“What about you?” she asks.

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