Page 34 of The Billionaire's Bargain

She shakes her head, eyes soft with emotion. "We have everything we need, Alexander. More than we ever imagined possible."

Five years ago, those words would have made me uncomfortable. Gratitude always felt like a transaction to me—something people offered when they wanted more. Now I just nod, recognizing the simple truth in her statement. I gave them security; they gave me belonging.

"Goodnight, Diane."

"Goodnight, son."

The word still catches me off guard sometimes.Son.A family connection I never had, casually bestowed like it's the most natural thing in the world.

I take the stairs two at a time, eager now. The master suite spans the entire top floor of the penthouse. I find Alice in our bathroom, wrapped in a towel, her damp hair clinging to her neck. Steam rises from her skin, pink from the hot shower. She hasn't heard me come in yet.

I could stand here forever, just watching her. Five years, and the sight of her still kicks me in the chest.

"You planning on dropping that towel anytime soon?" My voice comes out rough.

She startles, turning with wide eyes that quickly warm with recognition. "I didn't hear you come up."

"I'm a man on a mission." I stalk toward her, watching her pulse jump in her throat. That shyness hasn't completely disappeared, even after all this time. It drives me fucking wild.

"Isa asleep?" she asks, clutching the towel a little tighter. As if that flimsy barrier could stop what's about to happen.

"Everyone's settled." I reach her, trapping her against the marble counter. "Which means I finally have you all to myself."

Her lips part, breath quickening. It amazes me that we can still do this to each other—create this crackling tension with nothing but proximity. I slide my hand up her arm, feeling goosebumps rise in my wake.

"You're cold."

She shakes her head. "Not cold."

I know. I know exactly what's happening to her body. I've made a five-year study of Alice Clark Grant. I know every curve, every sensitive spot, every sound she makes when I touch her just right. The knowledge doesn't diminish my hunger—it sharpens it.

"Five years today," I murmur against her neck.

She melts against me. "You remembered."

"The day you became mine? I'll remember it on my deathbed." I nip at her earlobe, feeling her shiver. "Though I'm not sure which anniversary we're celebrating—the coffee spill or the first time I had you on that rug at our island estate..."

Her cheeks flush darker. "Alexander..."

"I like both options." My hands find her waist, fingers dipping beneath the towel. "The moment I knew I had to have you, and the moment I finally did."

The towel drops. Five years of comfortable living hasn't changed her essential softness. She's still all gentle curves and delicate skin. The only differences are the silvery stretch marks on her belly and fuller breasts—battle scars from carrying our daughter that I worship with reverent fingers.

"You're staring," she whispers.

"Damn right I am." I lift her onto the counter, stepping between her legs. "My wife is fucking gorgeous."

Her arms wind around my neck, pulling me closer. We kiss deep and slow, like we have all the time in the world. In a way, we do. I made sure of it, restructuring my entire empire to ensure I'm home for dinner most nights, present for weekends, available for the moments that matter. My father built his fortune by sacrificing everything else. I've learned there's another way.

I carry her to our bed, still kissing her, unwilling to break contact even for the few seconds it takes to cross the room. She'sworking at my shirt buttons, fingers fumbling in her eagerness. I help her, stripping off my clothes until there's nothing between us.

"God, look at you," I breathe, taking in her body spread across our bed. Her hair fans out on the pillow, still damp from her shower.

"Look who's talking." Her eyes roam over me with open appreciation. Gone is the shy waitress who could barely meet my gaze. My Alice has grown bold in our marriage bed.

I cover her body with mine, savoring the little gasp she makes when our skin connects. "You know what I was thinking about today?"

"What?" She arches as I trail kisses down her throat.

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