Page 58 of Captive Mafia Wife

“And I’m sure the sights will provide lovely backdrops for the million photos you demand of us, and the Tea Room will give you the daily sugar rush you require.”

“To get up the seventy stairs.”

“Protein builds muscle, which—never mind.” He closes the laptop with finality, standing and stretching. “Shall we get ready for our day?”

“Let’s.” I join him, stretching up to wrap my arms around his neck for a kiss.

The kiss leads to tongue. I pull back to ask, “Tell me. What would you do if you had me all to yourself in one of those pirate vaults?”

“Mmm…all kinds of things, but what I want to do now is see what you’re hiding under that flimsy robe, then bend you over this table and have my way with you.” He smooths his hands over my ass, cupping my curves.

His touch sends a shiver down my spine. With a playful tone, I tease, "As tempting as that sounds, we should probably save that for another time. We have a castle to conquerfirst."

Chuckling, he reluctantly releases me, and we set about getting ready for our day of adventure.

As I brush my hair until it gleams down my back, I can’t help but feel that we make the perfect pair.

Our meeting in the foyer punctuates my thoughts. We look at one another and laugh. We’ve unknowingly coordinated our travel wear, both in blue and white. I wear modest pearl earrings; my money piece is a breathtaking pearl necklace made of three strands, each a wee bit longer than the first, so they layer beautifully. I’ve paired it with a navy high-neckline fluttery skirted dress and no tights despite the cold—I will always sacrifice for fashion—with a cream-colored calf-length down coat, gloves, and scarf to fight the chill.

He wears a navy-and-white striped sweater, a white-collared shirt underneath, and a long, navy wool coat.

“You look very French. I love it.” Easing over to him, I lock arms, taking us in. Secretly, I love the way we look together. I lie in bed at night, smiling about our matching sweaters. That is why I make him take so many photos with me. “Great minds think alike. We match.”

He raises a brow. “You’re going to take too many pictures of us today, aren’t you?”

“Aye, you betcha!” I pat the matching cream leather bag at my side. “I’ve got my camera tucked away right here, love.”

We settle into the warm back seat of the sleek black Bentley limousine, carefully folding and storing our outerwear for our arrival. As we drive toward Edinburgh, the anticipation builds within me. I can't help but feel grateful for having him by my side, guiding me through this new, unsure chapter of my life.

Sneaking a peek at him next to me on the black leather back seat of the car, I take in his profile—is it possible the man is even more handsome from this angle? That thick head of hair most men would kill for. The jaw locked in thought as he gazes out his window.

I run my hand up the back of his head, fingers sliding through his silk-like hair. “Your kids would have fantastic hair,” I say.

“So would yours,” he says.

I think about what our children would look like. Would they have his dark eyes and my contrasting light hair? A baby black pearl. Or a wee, curly-haired, green-eyed brunette?

A thought crosses my mind. I’m engaged to the man—no wedding plans in sight, still—and I don’t even know. “Do you want children?”

“Absolutely. I want the wife, the marriage, the family. The happy household.” His eyes lock on mine. “I want it all.”

My uterus throbs, my minge pulsing.I’m picturing chiffon and flower girls, sugared roses and a three-tiered buttercream cake from the bakery in Glasgow.

I lean over, kissing him and murmuring against his lips. “Have you ever had sex in a car?”

To which he replies with the most beautiful words. “Any time before you doesn’t exist in my memory.”

I memorize his words, wanting to write them down, to keep them forever.

This man almost has me ready to plan our wedding.

Almost.

He reaches over me, radiating heat and energy, and pushes a button. I watch as a dark, smoky privacy screen rises between us and the driver.

I shift closer, feeling the heat radiating off him as his hand moves along my thigh, inching my dress higher. The car hums with the low murmur of the engine, creating a deeper sense of privacy in the cab.

His touch ignites a further desire in me, and I can't resist. "I hope you're not planning to take advantage of me in this secluded space," I whisper against his ear, my breath hitching as his fingers trace patterns higher up my inner thigh.

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