{Spicy Scenes Ahead!}
NATHAN JANG
The moment I stepped into the bedroom, my breath caught.
Vanessa lay across the sheets, bathed in the golden glow of candlelight, wearing nothing but those pink heels I'd teased her about earlier. The sight of her—long legs stretched out, her body a sinuous curve against the silk—made my pulse stutter.
This woman is my wife.
Her fingers traced lazy paths up her stomach, her touch unhurried, as if she were relearning her own skin. When her hands brushed over her breasts, her breath hitched—just slightly—and her dark eyes locked onto mine. Heat, and something deeper than lust. Love. God, my chest ached.
Vanessa Belmont loved me.
I was across the room before the last word left her lips. My hands found her waist, thumbs stroking the dip of her hips as I drank in the sight of her. Every inch of her was perfection—the flutter of her lashes, the way her lips parted when I leaned closer.
"Where do I even start?" I whispered, half to myself.
