Page 50 of The Devious Husband

I bite down on my lip and take a calming breath before forcing a smile for my husband. He defiled a special edition, and he has no idea.

“Maybe this isn’t a good idea,” he says, trying to take it back, and I step away, holding it to my chest.

“It’s mine,” I tell him. “You can’t have it back.” He smiles and shakes his head as I throw him a suspicious look before carefully taking another look at my new book. “It’s gorgeous,” I tell him, my voice shaking. His eyes roam over my face, and I grin at him, genuinely this time. “So you’ve read this?”

He nods. “I initially started reading it because I wanted to know why you loved it, and as I was reading it, I highlighted all the passages that reminded me of you. I added some notes in the margins to let you know why something made me think of you, when it might not be obvious from the text.”

I flick through my brand new edition of A Curse of Shadows and Ice, my heart soaring when I look at it again, seeing it with new eyes. The thought of Xavier reading a beauty and the beast romantasy is endlessly amusing, and I can’t help but grin when I realize he’s highlighted one of my favorite parts — the part where the heroine says I only promised to be with you until death do us part. I was just expediting the death part, right before she stabs the emperor in the heart, on their wedding night no less, not realizing he’s immortal.

In the margins, it reads: I think I know what he saw in her, even that early in their story; it’s the same thing I see in you. It’s rare to find someone who isn’t intimidated by me, but you never have been. My fears are the same as Felix’s, someday you’ll see the monster inside me, and you’ll run like everyone else does.

I look up at him, but he’s looking away. “I know it isn’t the same as me spontaneously telling you what’s on my mind, or learning to communicate the way I need to, but it’s …”

“It’s perfect,” I tell him, trying my best to blink back the tears in my eyes. I can’t believe how thoughtful this is, how much effort this must’ve been. But even more so, I can’t believe he sees himself that way. I place the book on our coffee table and reach for him. “Xavier, you are no monster.”

“I wish I weren’t,” he says, burying his hands in my hair. “If I could wash my hands clean, I would, Sierra. There’s nothing I wouldn’t do to become the kind of man you want.”

“I only want you,” I admit. “It’s only ever been you.”

He drops his forehead to mine and draws a shaky breath. “You can’t mean that.”

I rise to my tiptoes and kiss him, loving the way he makes the softest sound in the back of his throat before pulling my body flush against his. He kisses me hungrily, desperately, and I step forward, making him step back, until we both tumble onto the sofa. He groans when I straddle him, his gaze caressing my body. “I want you, Xavier Kingston. The good, the bad, and everything in between.” My hands roam over his shirt, and I smile as I pull begin to unbutton it. “Let me show you just how much.”

Forty-Four

Xavier

I stare out my office window and smile at the torrential rain outside. “Free up my schedule for the rest of the day,” I tell Sam. “I’m going home.”

“W-what?” he stammers, clenching his tablet. “You can’t! You have an acquisition meeting that’s been scheduled for months and a critical site inspection.”

I smile and shake my head. “I have something more important to do today.”

Sam stares at me in disbelief as I grab my things and walk out of my office, my heart at ease with my decision to prioritize myself for just one single day. I’ve hidden behind my work for so long, but I can’t keep walking the same road and expect my destination to change.

I’m oddly nervous as I walk into my house, wondering whether any of the steps I’ve taken lately were the right ones, or if they’ll lead me astray. My heart is racing as I change into gray sweats, leaving my torso bare — just the way my sweet wife likes.

My mind is filled with nothing but thoughts of her as I walk into her home library and light the fire in our marble fireplace, before grabbing a cosy blanket and placing it over the large armchair in the corner. I look around the room and pause for a moment, deciding to add a few candles too.

Just as I’ve made a hot chocolate with Sierra’s favorite white chocolate, the door opens, and I smile to myself. “Oh!” she says, shocked when I meet her halfway. “You’re home early!”

I grin as I walk up to her and place my index finger underneath her chin, tipping her face up to kiss her. She sighs happily and rises to her tiptoes, her hand roaming over my chest, her fingers lingering on my abs. “I had a feeling you’d rush home to read by the fireplace,” I murmur, taking her hand as I lead her into our home library. “So I thought I’d work on my laptop as you read.”

Sierra gasps when she realizes I’ve already lit the fire for her, and she turns to face me. That look in her eyes… it’s more than affection, more than I’d ever have dared dreamed of, more than I deserve. “Xavier…”

“Here,” I tell her, cutting her off. “I made you a hot chocolate.”

She takes it from me with trembling hands, and it pains me that she appreciates these little things this much. It means I haven’t been treating her well enough. She should be used to this, and I’ve failed her. “Actually, can you hold this for me while I get changed?”

I nod and tip my head toward the little electric coaster I asked Lex to make for her. “I got you this,” I tell her, showing it to her. “It’ll keep your drink warm. I know you hate it when your drink gets cold because you forget about it while reading, so I thought you might like this.”

She brushes the back of her fingers over my cheek, her eyes filled with longing. “You’re incredible.” Sierra rises to her tiptoes and presses a soft kiss to my cheek before rushing off, and I smirk to myself as I sit down in her favorite massive chair, her cup safely locked into her electric coaster.

I glance at the hardback I gave her, still every bit as nervous at the thought of her reading everything I wrote in the margins. She hasn’t said much about any of it, but the way she looks at me and the way she behaves around me has changed. My wife has somehow become even sweeter, and I suspect it’s because even though I can’t say the words she wants to hear, they’re still reaching her. I never quite understood the power of the written word until now, and I’ve never been more grateful for it.

“Kitten,” I growl when she walks in wearing the sexiest damn nightgown I’ve ever seen — one of the new ones Raven sent over. It’s mostly white, with small pink flowers embroidered on it, and my wife looks absolutely enchanting in it.

“What?” she asks innocently, knowing full well what she’s doing to me. She places her knee on our lounge chair and reaches over to grab her book, giving me a clear view of her cleavage, and it takes all of me not to grab her and bend her over.

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