Page 129 of The Temptation

“I don’t need a fucking sponge bath, Lucia,” I bark. “I’m quite capable of washing myself.”

“Wouldn’t it be more fun if I washed you instead?”

“No … no, it wouldn’t.”

I hear her blow out a puff of air before saying, “I disagree.”

“How the fuck did you get inside?”

“With a key. Dante had your keys at his house.”

“How did you get through the front gate?”

“I used the code.”

“I never told you the fucking code.”

“You said it was your birth date.”

“I never told you when my birthday was.”

“I saw it on your passport.”

“When did you see my passport?” I grumble.

Without thinking, I spin around to face her again, and fuck me, that body of hers.

My eyes move south of their own accord, skimming overthose perky, full tits and hourglass waist that curves into her hips. She’s smooth lines tapering above a flat, toned stomach. And don’t even get me started on that little patch of dark hair between her thighs. My mouth salivates at the sight.

For a moment, I’m lost in the sheer deliciousness of her. That is, until she opens her mouth again.

“I found it earlier when I was packing up your things at the safe house.”

My eyes snap back to her face. “You went through my things.”

“It was in the drawer.”

“In a damn envelope,” I bark.

A smile tugs at the corner of her lips. “I saw the letter you wrote me. It was beautiful. Was that diamond ring in there meant for me too?”

For a second, I’m caught off guard, wondering what the hell she’s talking about.

“What letter? I never wrote you a …” My words die off when it suddenly hits me, the marriage vows I wrote. The ones I never read. The same ones she was never supposed to see.

“I hope you don’t mind that I kept it.”

“It wasn’t meant for you,” I lie.

“It said Lucia at the beginning.”

Ah, fuck.

“Are you even going to try to cover yourself up?” I grumble, because I’ve decided that playing dumb is the safest course of action.

I’m not a man of words. I don’t say sappy shit. I don’t even know why I wrote that stuff down. I must have been suffering from a moment of insanity.

She lifts a shoulder, completely unbothered. “Why would I cover myself? You’re my husband. It’s only naturalfor you to see me naked.” Her eyes flicker down to my crotch area, and she points to the tent that’s now visible in this hideous thing I’m wearing. “Is that a dagger under your gown, Mr De Luca? Or are you just pleased to see me?”