The Flaw In His Red-Hot Revenge by Abby Green
Coming next month
THE SICILIAN’S FORGOTTEN WIFE
Caitlin Crews
“I wish only to kiss my wife,” Cenzo growled. “On this, the first day of the rest of our life together.”
“You don’t want to kiss me,” she threw at him, and he thought the way she trembled now was her temper taking hold. “You want to start what you think will be my downward spiral, until all I can do is fling myself prostrate before you and cringe about at your feet. Guess what? I would rather die.”
“Let us test that theory,” he suggested, and kissed her.
And this time, it had nothing at all to do with punishment. Though it was no less a claiming.
This time, it was a seduction.
Pleasure and dark promise.
He took her face in his hands, and he tasted her as he wanted at last. He teased her lips until she sighed, melting against him, and opened to let him in.
He kissed her and he kissed her, until all that fury, all that need, hummed there between them. He kissed her, losing himself in the sheer wonder of her taste and the way that sweet sea scent of hers teased at him, as if she was bewitching him despite his best efforts to seize control.
Cenzo kissed her like a man drowning and she met each thrust of his tongue, then moved closer as if she was as greedy as he was.
As if she knew how much he wanted her and wanted him, too, with that very same intensity.
And there were so many things he wanted to do with her. But kissing her felt like a gift, like sheer magic, and for once in his life, Cenzo lost track of his own ulterior motives. His own grand plan.
There was only her taste. Her heat.
Her hair that he gripped his hands, and the way she pressed against him.
There was only Josselyn. His wife.
He kissed her again and again, and then he shifted, meaning to lift her in his arms—
But she pushed away from him, enough to brace herself against his chest. He found his hands on her upper arms.
“I agreed to marry you,” she managed to pant out at him, her lips faintly swollen and her brown eyes wild. “I refuse to be a pawn in your game.”
“You can be any piece on the board that you like,” he replied, trying to gather himself. “But it will still be my board, Josselyn.”
He let her go, lifting up his hands theatrically. “By all means, little wife. Run and hide if that makes you feel more powerful.”
He kept his hands in the air, his mock surrender, and laughed at her as he stepped back.
Because he’d forgotten, entirely, that they stood on those narrow stairs.
It was his own mocking laughter that stayed with him as he fell, a seeming slow-motion slide backward when his foot encountered only air. He saw her face as the world fell out from beneath him.
Continue reading
THE SICILIAN’S FORGOTTEN WIFE
Caitlin Crews
Available next month
Copyright © 2021 Caitlin Crews
