Total pages in book: 124
Estimated words: 116471 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 582(@200wpm)___ 466(@250wpm)___ 388(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 116471 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 582(@200wpm)___ 466(@250wpm)___ 388(@300wpm)
“Let me,” she said and turned the shower on. The first spray of water was ice cold, as it always took a few seconds to warm up. I had spent only a couple of nights in the place to look for possible improvements before we moved in together, but that was one thing I’d learned quickly. Emma sucked in a sharp breath, her fingers clamping around my bicep as her wide eyes met mine. I chuckled at her shock. She relaxed when the water finally turned warm and pursed her lips.
“You could have warned me,” she said with a small, coy smile.
“Who would have thought that a bit of cold water would make you scream louder than sex with me.”
Her lips fell open. I hadn’t intended to show my true personality to Emma so shortly after our wedding, but keeping up a front in private was hard work, and I was exhausted from all the fake pleasantries of the day.
I could tell that she misunderstood my comment from the shock and worry in her eyes. I smirked and bent closer. “I didn’t mean from pain, Emma. I’m not into that. Nothing is better than a scream in pleasure.”
“Oh.” Her cheeks became an even darker shade of red. I angled our bodies so the water reached her thighs and could wash away the blood there.
“You can set me down. That way, I can clean up.”
I slowly put her down but kept a steadying hand on her waist. She held my arm as she began to lather herself with my shower gel, an herby scent that helped me wake up in the morning. She hissed when she washed herself between her legs.
“What is this?” she asked with a curious look up at me.
I grimaced. “This gives you a fresh kick.”
She quickly washed off the remaining foam and watching her fingers clean her pussy sent a flood of blood straight to my cock. She noticed my gaze and flushed a bright red. I looked away and washed my face, forcing my thoughts away from Emma’s naked body.
Tomorrow, our families would have lunch together, and afterward, there’d hopefully be some time to discuss new ways to destroy the Falcone’s empire. Too much time had already been wasted on wedding planning—ours and Danilo’s to my sister. It was time to return our focus to business.
“Are you done?” I asked her with a sideways glance, trying to stay on track and not lose myself in her beauty again.
“Yes,” she said, quieter than before. I wasn’t sure what caused her sudden mood swing.
I stepped out of the shower and slung a towel around my waist before I grabbed one for Emma and wrapped it around her shoulders, tugging her in. She peered up at me, her expressive brown eyes locking on mine. This woman had so much love to give. One look at her told me that and more. She hoped what we had could turn into a loving marriage.
Emma was lovable. If I allowed it, I could see myself falling for her one day. But for that to happen, I would have to let her in. I would have to let her see the darkness of the past, the darkness I still carried with me. Could she bear the heavy guilt I carried? Most days, it was too heavy even for my shoulders. I released her shoulders, my expression closing off. “We should sleep now.”
She gave me a tight smile. “I need to get ready. Give me a moment.”
I left the bathroom. I put on pajama bottoms, then waited for Emma to emerge. I wasn’t sure if she’d need my help or if she even wanted it. Emma was used to handling things alone. The door opened, and Emma appeared, holding the doorframe to steady herself. She wore a gold silk nightgown and had her long hair braided so it fell over her shoulder. “Can you bring me my wheelchair?”
I pushed it over to her. “I could carry you again.”
“I don’t want to impose on your kindness.”
Emma was definitely colder than before. Maybe she realized that a bond built on mutual respect was better than hoping for love. “I’m your husband. It’s my job to be kind to you.”
Her face became even more closed off. I realized my choice of words had been less than clever. I rolled the wheelchair over to her. She lowered herself into her wheelchair and moved it toward the bed, then she engaged the brake and stood. She climbed into bed. I joined her. She turned to me with a stubborn gleam in her eyes. “I’m not a job. I have worked too hard for my independence to be an obligation to anyone.”
I frowned. “I never called you an obligation, and I realize my choice of words was inapt. I was referencing our wedding vows. It’s my duty as your husband to treat you well and take care of you.”