Page 63 of Doctored Vows

“Even when we’re not doing anything.” His cock twitches, and the fire that has barely simmered reignites all over again. “Though I doubt that will be a regular occurrence. It seems to have a mind of its own when it comes to you.”

“Oh sweet Jesus,” I murmur when he shows inhumane strength by rising to his feet without losing our connection. He doesn’t even strain under the pressure of our conjoined weights as he exposes that the bumps in his midsection aren’t for show. He has impressive core strength.

As he walks us toward the attached bathroom, he says, “I’ll get you cleaned up like your germ phobia is rubbing off on me, Doc, but we may get a little dirty in the meantime.”

I’d be a liar if I said I wasn’t hopeful.

CHAPTER TWENTY

If anyone tells you flying first class is the epitome of wealth, they’re lying. First class is everything you think your heart desires until you’re spoiled by a private jet.

Ivanov Industries’ private jet is massive. It has rows of plush leather recliners, a marble kitchen full to the brim with snacks and expensive bottles of champagne, and a bedroom that could have been put to good use if Maksim hadn’t offered for Zoya to fly back with us.

She heard me orgasm multiple times through a wall. I don’t want to subject her to more torture since the jet’s walls are thinner than the hotel’s.

Furthermore, Maksim has been a little preoccupied for the past six hours. He made sure Zoya and I had everything we needed for our flight and gave me the same forehead kiss he did this morning when he slipped out of me after sleeping inside me all night, but he’s being different. I wouldn’t exactly say cold, but something is definitely occupying his time.

As the jet taxis toward a private hangar, Zoya shifts my focus away from the door Maksim disappeared behind hours ago to her. “I honestly didn’t think your husband could get any hotter.” When paper crinkles in her hand, my mouth falls open. She has the terms Maksim and I agreed to before we wed in her hand. “Cock warming…” She moans in a way I wish never to hear again. “That’s like top tier in the alpha stakes.”

By snatching our contract out of her hand, I act as if I am not as equally turned on by the slight alteration Maksim made to his one term. “Where did you get this? You’re such a snoop.”

“I am not. It was sitting out for the world to see.”

I glare at her, calling her a liar without words.

It buckles her lie in less than thirty seconds. “It was in the breast pocket of Maksim’s suit jacket. Since that’s where all men file their important documents, it was pretty much begging for me to take a look at it.” She waits for me to tuck away that little tidbit of information before she twists her torso to face me. “You’ve got to admit, it is pretty hot that he wants to be up in your business as often as possible.”

“It’s not solely about sex,” I try to defend. “It’s about connection and?—”

“Your naughty bits being stuffed to the brim as often as possible?”

She laughs like a hyena when I smash a pillow in her face but doesn’t attempt to apologize to the air hostess, who startled at the derogative tone, lumping the task onto me.

“I’m so sorry?—”

“She stole the man you so desperately want you’re still hopeful you can sink your hooks into him even now.” Zoya lifts my hand, sending rainbow hues bouncing across the dark wood grain the jet is fitted with. “This isn’t a I-might-take-you-for-a-ride-when-my-wife-isn’t-looking ring. This is the real deal. The ring you give your wife when you’re so fucking obsessed with her you don’t just want to sleep next to her every night—you want to sleep inside her too.”

The air hostess scoffs, pffts, and glowers at us before her shock is replaced with anger. “If I wanted him, I could have had him.”

Jealousy rears its ugly head, but before I can act on it, a voice that could only sound gruffer if he were coming sounds from behind my shoulder. “Get the fuck off my plane.”

“Mr. Ivanov.” The air hostess breathes out heavily. “I was just coming to wake you?—”

“Get. The. Fuck. Off. My. Plane.” As the air hostess hurries for the exit, Maksim locks his eyes with a gentleman over her shoulder. “And you can go with her.”

“Maksim, Maria was out of line but unaware of your recent nuptials.”

His use of Maksim’s first name indicates he knows him more than a standard staff member, but that doesn’t lessen Maksim’s frustration. “She may not have, but you did.” The male air hostess tries to interrupt, but Maksim continues talking before he can. “Yet you sat back and watched her belittle my wife.” Even Zoya almost faints from how he growls “my wife.”

With how much tension is firing in the air, I am shocked when the man backs down with an apology. “You are right. I am sorry.” He drifts his eyes to me. “I apologize for any discomfort caused, Mrs. Ivanov.”

I barely dip my chin when he sinks into the plane’s galley and disappears from view.

The hostility is rife, so of course Zoya tries to barge through it. “If you ever grow tired of him, toss him my way. There’s no such thing as sloppy seconds when it comes to men.” She kisses my forehead like Maksim did at the start of our flight, hopeful it will hide her grin about my narrowed glance before she thanks Maksim for letting her tag along.

“Are you not traveling with us?” My pleading eyes say what my mouth can’t. Don’t force me to face Gigi’s wrath alone.

“Gigi is going to love him,” she says, proving she has mind-reading capabilities. “And I’ve got some matters I need to wrap up before commencing my new job on Monday.” She locks eyes with Maksim. “Ten, right?”

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