Page 72 of Of Murder and Matrimony

“Fucking perfect,” I swore, thrusting as she rode out her release. I covered her body with mine, lacing my fingers with hers over the edge of the desk, getting as deep as possible. “Fuck, I’m coming in you.”

I filled her ass, my hot come making her twitch around my pulsing cock, forcing unintelligible sounds from my mouth. This time, I welcomed having my breath stolen because Olesya was responsible. I would happily succumb to her.

I breathed in her jasmine scent and kissed the back of her head, then released her hands. She tried to move but froze, looking back at me with sated concern.

“I’ve got you,” I soothed her, reaching for her sensitive clit and pressing. When her eyes fluttered closed, I gently withdrew my cock. It was still half-hard and eager for more, but my wife had taken enough for one day. I helped her stand and cradled her against me, kissing her softly. “You’re incredible. Thank you.”

“I would do anything for you,” Olesya vowed quietly, her big blue eyes expressing the three words she hadn’t yet said.

“I love you, too.” I tucked her head under my chin, holding her tightly, knowing I would eventually have to wash her and face reality.

But not yet. I could spend a little more time surrendering to love.

Chapter Twenty-Two

My cramps woke me Thursday night, and I cursed my uterus as I lay in bed and tried to massage my abdomen, hoping for relief. It didn’t work.

Dante had been sweet after the whole anal sex thing—which was so much hotter than I imagined—getting me wine and chocolate and insisting I take the day off and rest. I gave in that once, but yesterday I’d been back in the clinic, patching up the Neretti men and seeing a couple of their kids who couldn’t get into regular pediatricians.

Sighing, I rolled out of bed, careful not to wake Dante. The air conditioning kept the house comfortable, but it was cold, so I pulled a pair of sweats over my silk shorts and grabbed a hoodie. That was better.

I wasn’t all that hungry, but movement would help the cramps. I crept downstairs, carefully looking around corners and ensuring Ettore wasn’t lurking in the shadows. Walking the halls seemed risky, so I padded to the back door and slipped onto the patio. The garden was lit with pretty bulbs at night, making it look like something out of a fairy tale. The night air was still warm, smelling of fresh rain from a passing storm.

A suit-clad figure passed in the distance, one of the Neretti men on patrol. They walked the grounds every hour around the clock. The stone path was cool against my bare feet as I meandered through the plants, my hands on my lower back for counter pressure to the cramps. Soon, the tension in my lower belly loosened, and the pain let up enough for me to enjoy my surroundings.

I ran my fingers across the flower petals, admiring how the blooms glowed in the moonlight. Their soft scent wafted through the cool breeze. Approaching footsteps made my entire body tense, but I breathed a sigh of relief when Diego appeared. The guard I’d seen must have told him I was outside alone. It was my first time seeing him in anything other than his suit.

“Everything okay?” he asked, his voice concerned and thick with fatigue. I took in his jeans and black hoodie, which didn’t hide his muscular body. If anything, the casual clothing accentuated it even more.

I nodded. “Yeah, I’m fine. Couldn’t sleep.”

“I see.” He sounded relieved and pointed to the path back to the house. “Are we taking a walk?”

“Sure.” I fell into step next to him, but I wasn’t in a hurry. Maybe it was a good time to talk to him when his guard was down. “Diego?”

“Yes, Mrs. Neretti?” He turned his head.

“I’m sorry about last week. During training,” I said, shoving my hands in the front pocket of my sweatshirt. “It was never my intention to mock you or upset you. I understand your line of work isn’t particularly accepting of anything but traditional roles. You should know that’s not how I am. I like you and don’t want things to get awkward. Anything you say will be safe with me. Call it doctor-patient privilege if you like.”

I snickered at my joke, and Diego smiled hesitantly. He stopped walking and pivoted to face me fully. “I understand that you mean well. And as much as I trust you, there are things about my life that would be too dangerous to speak aloud.”

“I respect that.” I placed a hand on his forearm, patting it reassuringly.

“You asked me before if I had somebody waiting at home.” Diego shoved his hands in his pockets and looked skyward. “I don’t. My life is here, protecting you.”

“So I’m a cock-block then,” I tossed out, drawing another laugh from him. “But there’s somebody you wish were waiting for you?”

“I’d hoped so at one time,” he said wistfully, his lips turning downward. “But that person is gone now.”

“They died?” I asked, alarmed. “I’m so sorry, Diego.”

“No,” he corrected me, his brows furrowing. “At least, I don’t think so. H—they disappeared, and I haven’t been able to find them. I’m working on it in my spare time.”

“I’m still sorry,” I reiterated. “It must be difficult not to have closure. At least, if you know they’re alive, you can wish for their happiness.”

“Yeah,” he murmured.

“I’m guessing it’s not a situation that can ever be worked out somehow.”

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