Page 20 of Falling for the Wife

David Burg. To this day, it baffled me how he was once a close friend of Peter. The man was heinous. “Are you going to make an announcement soon?”

“Next month. I want to enjoy having a little peace. David can be erratic. Watch out for him. He’s not really your biggest fan.”

“It’s time to rest, Mister Weber,” Nurse Anita announced.

I made a solemn nod. “Take care of the old man, will you, Anita?”

“Always, Mister St. James.” She chuckled.

“I’ll see you in the morning, Peter.”

“Weddings, what fun!” he exclaimed before he shooed me away.

I entered my bedroom and noted that the sheets were gone. The bed was stripped bare without even a pillow in sight. “I’m not amused, Thomas,” I muttered under my breath.

Moving into this house when I had one in Pacific Heights was madness. But as Peter pointed out, it was minutes away from work, and he’d rather Gisele wasn’t living in this massive house all by herself. Sure, she’d have Thomas, security on the grounds, and the help, but she’d basically be alone.

Apart from my mother, I didn’t really have anyone else. As a result, I understood what being alone meant. My mother brought me up on her own since her family had long abandoned her after getting pregnant at such a young age. As did my father since he realized being with her entailed having to give up the fun partying lifestyle, and he wouldn’t have that. Therefore, he too left.

I let out a groan as I raked a hand through my hair before stepping into the scalding hot spray of water.

It was frustrating enough to be dealing with work, the legalities of the impending transition of power, and Peter’s terminal illness. Gisele Weber was another problem altogether.

The woman liked to rouse me.

She could switch from demure to a sizzling nymph in the blink of an eye. It was startling. But none of it mattered. I could handle her coquettish nature. Sure, she was utterly gorgeous, but I would never touch her. She was too young for my own liking. Her attempts would go unrewarded.

Rose, on the other hand…was more than enough to cater to my passionate appetite.

Instead of heading back to work, I should’ve seen her today. It would’ve been nice to alleviate all this bound stress in that tight, willing body of hers. It had been five days since I had sex. I was beginning to feel the effect of what the unplanned sacrifice was doing to me.

So, when I saw Gisele’s naked body earlier, I almost lost it. Almost. She might be pregnant, but that didn’t deter my manhood from responding to her. My cock did an involuntary twitch, recalling that moment my eyes caught sight of her almost perfect cunt. Her bare kitty was the prettiest I’d ever seen. It looked untouched,unused,as if it hadn’t been broken in. But I knew better. She had her trysts secretly, resulting in her present state.

Instead of cowering behind embarrassment, the minx didn’t even have the decency to shut her legs. She deliberately kept them apart, exposing me to that pretty little tight cunt of hers. Daring me to look, as if she wanted me to touch her—tasteher.

Any man would lose it. Her body’s made for a sinner.

Those endless toned legs, long golden mane, stormy gray eyes, a smile that melted hearts, and with firm large tits that were made to be fondled and suckled... She was a bloody fucking sexpot, and it was mighty distracting.

I might be a lot of things, a wicked playboy who loved to indulge in debauchery being one of them, but I would never touch Gisele. Not only was she too young, but she was the kind a man married and respected. Not to be made into a mistress and have her brains fucked out of her. Apart from amazing sex, I had nothing else to offer her. My heart had shut off when the love of my life died.

Although I admitted the matter was rather tantalizing, alas, my imagination should suffice. That was where I’d draw the line. It should remain in the deep gutters of my mind. I respected Peter too much to cross that sweet treacherous line. Gisele Weber was and always would be off limits. I had trained myself since the beginning not to sexually objectify her, and I wasn’t going to fail now.

Coming out of the shower, I casually walked into the closet. The marble felt cool under my feet as I paced, my eyes busy searching for something to wear. Thomas functioned efficiently, coordinating with my household staff the moment he learned I was to live here. The closet was filled with my color-coordinated clothes. Sleepwear situated at the very end, right next to a set of five drawers that were filled with go-to daily favorite Frigo no. 1 athletic black boxer-briefs. Under normal circumstances, I’d have favored sleeping naked, but I’d best get used to wearing something while living under Peter’s roof.

Grabbing navy blue Hermès woven boxer shorts, I put them on before running a quick hand over my wet hair. I took a deep breath then chastised myself to get a move on since tomorrow was a big day. Images of my wedding to Paige tried to surface, and it took every ounce of my will to push it out of my mind. Tomorrow, after the ceremony was concluded, maybe…maybe I’d let myself wallow and recall my late beautiful wife. But until then, I had to get a good grip on my emotions.

With my phone secured in hand, I strolled out of my bedroom and headed straight to the room across from mine. Without pausing to knock on the door, I simply let myself inside. I was immediately greeted with darkness. The only source of light came from a candle. It was situated across the room on a glass table, across from her comfortable white linen sofas. The fragrance infiltrated my nostrils, my senses. The scent was unusual—sweet, flowery, but foreign. What was it? I’d been with so many women that I’d likely know all the scents by now…but this particular one escaped me.

I took a few steps before I finally set my gaze on the sleeping form in the bed wearing only a robe once again. Instead of Japanese silk, she chose a softer color, a pale blue. Gisele looked peaceful and utterly enchanting. Her long, wavy blonde hair framed her stunning face as she slept on her side. Her breasts pressed against each other, showing an ample view of her cleavage.

My cock jerked again.Behave, you savage fucker. My manhood began to painfully strain in my briefs. But I chose to ignore it as my hand grasped the end of the comforter and I grudgingly slid into bed.

I was on my back with my hands behind my head, blankly staring at the ceiling, loathing every second my body and mind clashed on what action to take next. My body implored to sheathe itself in her wetness, while my mind fought for much needed sleep.

“Mmm,” a soft, low moan escaped from the woman next to me.

My body stilled as I slowly twisted my head to the left, wondering if I had woken her. Her eyes remained closed; her soft pink full lips appeared to have parted. I watched in agony as she lightly bit into her bottom one, as if she was being pleasured.