Page 121 of The Mafia's Fake Wife

We say our goodbyes, and Damir leads me to the elevator that will take us to the honeymoon suite. The doors close, and we’re finally alone.

“Happy?” he asks, his thumb tracing circles on my wrist.

“Very.”

The suite is dimly lit when we enter, dozens of candles flickering throughout the space. Rose petals create a path to the bedroom, and the scent of jasmine hangs in the air.

“Your work?” I ask, taking in the romantic scene.

“I have my moments,” he says, removing his jacket and draping it over a chair.

I stand in the center of the room, suddenly nervous. Despite everything we’ve shared—our bodies, our secrets, and our child growing inside me—this moment feels different. Final. Permanent.

He stalks toward me, removing his tie with one slow movement. His gaze never leave mine while he unbuttons his collar, revealing the tanned skin beneath.

I shiver, not from cold but from anticipation.

“You made me wait long enough,” he teases.

“Worth it?” I ask, my own voice unsteady.

“Beyond measure.”

He touches his lips to mine as he pulls me into his arms. The kiss starts slow, exploratory, as if we’re learning each other for the first time. Then it deepens, becomes hungry and desperate. He slides his hands down my back, finding the zipper of my dress.

“I’ve been wanting to take this off since I first saw you in it,” he murmurs against my lips.

The dress pools at my feet, leaving me in nothing but lace underwear and the emerald necklace he gave me months ago—the one that saved my life when Nikolai took me.

Damir steps back, his eyes darkening as he takes me in. My body has changed with pregnancy. At thirty weeks, I have fuller breasts, rounded hips, and a generous swell of my belly from our son’s growth.

“Perfect,” he says, and the reverence in his voice makes me believe him.

He lifts me into his arms, careful of my belly, and carries me to the bed. The sheets are cool against my heated skin when he lays me down.

“I need to see you,” I whisper, reaching for the buttons of his shirt.

He helps me, shrugging out of his shirt to reveal the muscled chest I know so well. I trace the scars that tell the story of his violent past, pausing at the newest one—a jagged line where Nikolai’s knife nearly took him from me. “I almost lost you.”

“Almost, but never again.” He captures my hand and brings it to his lips. “I’m yours, Elena. Always.”

He peels off his pants and boxers in one fluid motion, standing before me without shame. Moonlight streams through the half-drawn curtains, highlighting the contours of his body—the broad shoulders tapering to narrow hips, the defined muscles of his abdomen, the dark trail of hair leading down to his impressive arousal.

When he lowers himself over me, the contrast between us is striking—his body hard where mine yields, powerful where I’m soft.

“You’re beautiful,” he murmurs against my neck, his fingers tracing a path from my collarbone down to my breast.

His touch is deliberate, confident. He circles my nipple with his thumb, applying just enough pressure to make me gasp before moving lower, across the sensitive skin of my stomach.

“Damir,” I whisper, my hips rising involuntarily as his hand dips between my thighs to stroke my wet pussy.

“So responsive,” he says, a note of wonder in his deep voice. “Always so ready for me.”

His fingers slide inside me easily, and I cry out when he strokes my clit in slow circles. I grab his shoulders to anchor myself as pleasure courses through me. “More,” I demand, spreading my legs wider for him. He increases the pressure, making my back arch off the bed, hips chasing the pressure of his touch. The room feels too hot, and my skin is electric wherever he touches me.

“Tell me what you want,” he says, his voice rough with desire. His pupils are blown wide, reducing the blue of his eyes to a thin ring. He hovers above me, muscles taut with restraint, waiting for permission.

“You. Just you.” The words come out breathless and desperate. I reach up to trace his jawline, feeling the slight scratch of stubble under my fingertips.

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