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“Don’t make me carry you, Petal.” His eyes glittered with both amusement and warning. “Your ribs are healed enough that I won’t feel guilty about throwing you over my shoulder.”
Heat bloomed in her chest. They both knew he would do it, and they both knew she secretly loved it when he did.
“Fine.” She lifted her chin in mock defiance. “But only because I was almost finished anyway.”
His answering smile was pure sin. “Whatever you need to tell yourself.” He pulled her to her feet, then paused, his expression softening as he caught sight of her ring. He still did that sometimes—looked at it like he couldn’t quite believe she was his.
“I love you,” she said quietly, because she could. Because they were past the point of holding back.
The fire in his eyes banked, turning molten. “Show me how much.” He pulled her close, his touch just this side of rough. “Upstairs. Now.”
As she followed him toward their bedroom, Sasha smiled to herself. They might have traded the drama for domesticity, but some things—the electricity between them, the way he commanded and she yielded, the bone-deep certainty that they belonged together—would never change.
And she wouldn’t have it any other way.
Outside their bathroom window, a deer wandered past. In the near distance, evergreens reached for the sky, and their needle-covered branches swayed in the breeze.
This view was so different from the one she’d had at her Denver apartment—open, vast, and soothing. Would she ever get used to it?
Gregorio moved behind her and once more placed his hands on her shoulders. His touch was firm yet gentle, as it always was. “I’ve had a hard-on the entire drive home.”
“Oh? See something interesting at the Den?”
Against her ear, he growled as he brought a hand firmly against her right ass cheek.
Yelping, she turned to face him.
“You know there’s only one woman who gives me that reaction.”
She loved his possessiveness and reassurances.
“I was thinking about being balls-deep in your pussy. That’s why I came home.”
His raw words always made her tremble with anticipation.
“I want you naked. Now.”
When she reached for the hem of her long-sleeved shirt, he brushed her hands aside.
“I’ve been thinking about doing this.”
Her future husband—her Dominant—stripped off her shirt. Then he made short work of her bra.
Finally, he crouched in front of her to pull down her leggings and panties.
He cupped her pussy and squeezed it a little, making her suck in a breath.
“This belongs to me.”
“Yes,” she whispered, tipping her head back. “Yes, Sir.” There never had been another man for her. Never would be.
Before releasing her, he squeezed again, this time much harder.
Response rushed through her.
“I love the way you react to me.”
Desperate for him, she reached for his black henley. “May I?”