Page 65 of Wicked Sinner

I can’t stop looking at her, afraid she’ll disappear. "And now?"

She looks up at me then, and her hazel eyes are completely open, completely honest. "Now I know that what I feel for you is real.

It's not Stockholm syndrome or gratitude or some misguided attempt to make the best of a bad situation. I love you, Caesar. I love your arrogance and your protectiveness, and the way you fight for what you want. I love how hard you’ve tried to show me that you regret the way we started, and I love how fierce you become when someone threatens what's yours. "

She pauses, her hand tightening on my knee. "I love that you came for me when I needed you, even though it meant working with Tristan, even though it put you in danger. I love that you killed Matvey Slakov because he dared to touch me."

"Bridget—"

"I'm not finished." There's steel in her voice now, the same strength I fell in love with.

"I also love that you were willing to let me go.

That even after everything, you were prepared to honor our agreement and give me a divorce if that's what I wanted. I know you would have, even if you didn’t want to. "

She reaches up to cup my face in her hands, her thumbs stroking over my cheekbones.

"But I don't want a divorce, Caesar. I want to stay married to you. Not because I have to, not because of the baby, but because I choose you. I choose this life, this complicated, dangerous, beautiful life with you. And even though I’m still scared of it, and even though I know I’m never really going to fit in, I trust that you’ll keep us safe—and that you want me, even if I never quite fit into your world. "

For a moment, I can't speak. The words I've been wanting to hear for months are finally here, but they're so much more than I dared to hope for. She doesn't just love me—she chooses me. She wants to build a life with me.

"Are you sure?" I ask, my voice rough with emotion. "Because once you choose this, once you choose me, there's no going back. I won't let you go again, Bridget. I can't."

"I don't want to go back," she says firmly. "I want to go forward. With you."

I can’t keep myself from touching her for another moment. I press my palm to her cheek, my mouth crashing against hers as I kiss her hard, pouring everything I feel into it. Relief and love and desperate gratitude that she's here, that she's mine, that she wants to be mine.

She responds immediately, her arms winding around my neck as she deepens the kiss. Her lips are soft and warm, and she tastes like everything I've ever wanted.

"I love you," I murmur against her mouth. "God, Bridget, I love you so much."

"Show me," she whispers back, and there's heat in her voice that goes straight to my groin.

"I'm injured," I remind her, though my body is already responding to her nearness, to the promise in her eyes. Whatever blood is left in my body is entirely in my cock.

"Dr. Ackley cleared me for all activities," she murmurs with a wicked smile. "And Dr. Ackley said no strenuous activity for you. She didn't say anything about letting me do all the work."

The suggestion in her voice makes my blood run hot. "Bridget..."

"Unless you don't want to," she says, suddenly uncertain. "If you're too tired or in too much pain—"

I silence her with another kiss, harder this time, more demanding. When we break apart, we're both breathing hard.

"I always want you," I tell her honestly. "Injured or not, I will always want you."

She smiles and starts working on the buttons of my shirt, careful around the bandages on my shoulder. "Good," she says, pressing a kiss to my collarbone. "Because I have a lot of lost time to make up for."

I let her undress me carefully, her hands grazing over my skin, fingers tracing the muscles of my abdomen as I lie back on the bed and watch her.

She shrugs her dress off, tossing it aside and leaning over me in only the white silk bra and panties she was wearing beneath it.

I hadn’t thought it was possible for me to get harder, but my cock throbs, and I groan.

Bridget gives me a wicked smile, her fingers going to my belt. She has me naked beneath her in a matter of minutes, and she lets out a low hum as my cock springs free and she reaches for it, her fingers rolling over the piercings as she leans in to lap her tongue against the head.

Her lips around my cock feel like heaven.

I’m dizzy from the pleasure as she toys with the piercing in the tip, teasing the ones running down my length, playing with me until I’m all but begging for her.

She licks the pre-cum away from the head again and again, stroking and licking and sucking until I reach for her arms and tug her toward me.

“I need to be inside of you, bellissima,” I groan, and she smiles, moving gently to straddle my hips as she strips her underwear off. The feel of her warm skin against mine is almost too much, and I have to grit my teeth to maintain control.

"Tell me if I hurt you," she whispers, positioning herself over me.

"You won't," I assure her, gripping her hip with my good hand. Nothing could hurt right now. Everything about her feels too fucking good.

She sinks down slowly, taking me into her body inch by inch. The sensation is exquisite—she's so wet, so tight, so perfect around me. When she's fully seated, we both groan at the feeling.

"Okay?" she asks, her voice breathless.

"More than okay," I manage.

She starts to move then, setting a slow, torturous rhythm that has me seeing stars.

She's gorgeous above me, her head thrown back in pleasure, the sight of her taking my breath away.

I touch her everywhere I can without hurting myself—her hips, her taut stomach, her swaying, bouncing breasts as she rides my cock to the point of no return.

When I feel my balls tighten, my orgasm too close, I slide my hand against her, rubbing her clit as she grinds herself on me.

I want to flip her over, to take control, to show her exactly how much I want her. But my shoulder protests every time I try to move too much, so I force myself to lie back and let her set the pace.

It's torture. Beautiful, exquisite torture.

"Faster," I groan, rubbing her clit feverishly.

"No.” She gives me a smirk. "You're injured. We have to take it slow."

She's teasing me, punishing me in the most delicious way possible. I love this side of her—confident, playful, completely in control of her own pleasure and mine.

"Bridget," I warn, but she just laughs and continues her slow torture.

It feels as if it goes on forever, and I love every excruciating second of it. She builds me up to the edge over and over again, then pulls back just enough to keep me from falling over. By the time she finally takes pity on me and increases her pace, I'm practically shaking with need.

I feel her tense, feel her clench and flutter around me as her head falls back and her orgasm courses through her, and the sound of her moan coupled with the delicious squeeze of her perfect pussy around me sends me over the edge.

I grab her hip, groaning and bucking up into her as the first hot spurts of cum fill her, my cock throbbing as I find my release. My vision blurs, the pleasure racing up my spine as Bridget cries out my name, and I know that nothing else in the world will ever feel this good.

We lie there for a long time afterward, her head on my good shoulder, our breathing slowly returning to normal. I stroke her hair with my free hand, marveling at how right this feels. How perfect it is to lie here with her, and not worry she’s going to run. To know she’s mine, forever.

"I love you," I murmur into her hair.

"I love you too," she replies, pressing a kiss to my chest.

"No regrets?"

She lifts her head to look at me, her eyes serious. "None. What about you?"

I shake my head. "Only that it took us so long to get here."

She smiles and settles back against me. "We're here now. That's what matters."

We could have been here months ago if I hadn't been such an arrogant bastard, if I'd handled things differently from the beginning. But she's right—we're here now, and that's what counts.

"What happens next?" she asks quietly.

I shift slightly to look at her. "What do you mean?"

Bridget turns slightly so that she can meet my eyes. "I mean with Konstantin. He’s still not happy that you married me, right?”

"I'll handle Konstantin," I tell her, though I'm not entirely sure how yet. She’s right that nothing there is fixed, but it’s a problem I’ll figure out. There’s not a chance in hell I’m going to lose Bridget, not now that I finally have her.

"And if he won't let us stay married?"

“Then we’ll leave.” I sit up slightly, looking down at her with absolute seriousness. “I’ll move into your house. Help you run your shop or something. I don’t know. I don’t care, Bridget.”

Her eyes go wide. "You'd do that? Even if it meant giving up your position in the family?"

"Bridget, I'd give up everything for you and our child. The family, the business, all of it. You're more important than any of that." I let out a breath. “I have things I want to prove to myself, yes. Things that are important to me. But if the end result is that I have to let you go to keep them, all I’d prove is that I’m not the man I want to be. I won’t do it. I’d rather lose everything else and have you.”

She's quiet for a moment. "I wouldn't ask you to do that," she says finally. "I understand what it means to you. I really do. And I fell in love with you—I can’t ask you to change any more than I can change for you.”

"And I fell in love with a woman who challenges me, who makes me want to be better than I am.

I don't want you to change, Bridget. I don't want you to become some perfect mafia wife who smiles and stays silent and does what she's told. I want you exactly as you are." I brush my thumb over her cheekbone. “I love that you’re so much of a handful. That you don’t fit in.”

She bites her lip. "Even when I argue with you?"