Page 169 of Toxic Salvation
Things are looking good.
I’m posed against the window seat, one leg crossed over the other in what I pray looks effortlessly seductive, when Kovan finally walks through the door.
He, on the other hand, looks like hell. His tie hangs loose around his neck, his shirt is wrinkled, and there are new lines etched around his eyes that weren’t there this morning. Whatever he’s been dealing with today clearly kicked his ass.
But all of that exhaustion vanishes the second he sees me.
His mouth actually falls open. “Vesper?”
“Hello, husband.” I let my lips curve into what I hope is a sultry smile. “I’ve been waiting for you.”
He switches on another lamp and shrugs out of his jacket. His eyes never leave my body. “Jesus Christ. You look…”
“I look what?” I stand up slowly, making sure to arch my back just right.
“Fucking incredible.”
I turn toward the window and make a show of closing the curtains. My ass is on full display, and I make sure to take my time with each panel. “This old thing? I just threw it on.”
Before I can turn around, he’s behind me. His chest presses against my back, and I can feel exactly how much he appreciates my outfit. His breath is hot against my ear.
“Don’t start something you can’t finish, wife.”
His hands slide around my waist, but I spin out of his grip before he can get a good hold on me. “Who says I’m starting anything?”
He starts unbuttoning his shirt, and I have to bite back a groan. This man is completely unfair. I’m supposed to be the one with the advantage here, but then he goes and starts stripping, and suddenly, I’m struggling to remember my own plan.
“What game are we playing?” He tosses his shirt aside. “Because I’m not in the mood for games tonight.”
“Too bad.” I grab his hands and push him backward into the armchair by the window. “I am.”
I dance around him, just close enough for him to catch glimpses of skin, but far enough away that he can’t actually touch. Every time he reaches for me, I spin away.
“Vesper, goddammit…”
I stop in front of him and do a slow turn, making sure he gets the full view. “Do you like it?”
His knuckles are white where he’s gripping the armrests. “I’m about to tear it the fuck off of you.”
“You’re not tearing anything. This was pricey.”
“Worth every penny.” His eyes are glued to my chest. “Now, get over here.”
Instead of obeying, I step closer and brace my hands on either side of his chair. He immediately leans forward and captures one of my nipples through the silk, his tongue working magic that makes my knees wobble.
“Want to hear about my day?” I reach for his belt buckle.
He’s already breathing hard. “Sure.”
I free his cock and wrap my fingers around it. He’s hard as steel, and the sound he makes when I start stroking should be bottled up and sold as an aphrodisiac. ASMR for horny housewives like me.
“Charity and I had such a fun day planned,” I say conversationally, like I’m not currently giving my husband a handjob. “Mani-pedis, terrible movies, Chinese takeout. You know, best friend stuff.”
“Sounds great.” His hips are already moving, pushing into my grip.
“Itwouldhave been great…” I adjust my rhythm, just enough to make him sweat. “…ifit had actually happened.”
When I freeze, so does he. “What do you mean?”
