Page 303 of By His Vow

I don’t take in any of my surroundings. My focus is solely on her.

“Straight through that door,” she instructs, and when I follow orders, I find a small living room, or more importantly, a couch.

Lowering her to her feet, I make quick work of dragging her cardigan from her shoulders before reaching for the buttons running down the front of her dress.

My hands continue to tremble, but it’s no longer with nerves, just pent-up need.

“Need you naked right fucking now,” I confess as I make my way down the buttons.

The moment I’m confident that the fabric will fall from her hips, I push it from her shoulders, leaving her standing there in a navy-blue set of lingerie.

A set of lingerie I bought for her.

Fuck. Knowing that she’s been wearing it despite putting this space between us brings me to my motherfucking knees.

Literally.

“Take your bra off,” I demand as I reach for the lace of her panties and drag them down her thighs.

The second she’s bare, I lift her foot from the floor and place it on the coffee table beside us.

“Fucking perfect,” I murmur before diving for her.

“Kingston,” she cries, her fingers sinking into my hair, holding me in place. “Yes. Fuck.”

Her hips buck as I suck on her clit, plunging two fingers deep inside her and curling them the way she likes.

“Oh god. Yes. Yes.”

“Fuck. You missed me too, didn’t you, baby?”

“King, please. Please,” she begs as I bring her to a fast and intense release. “Oh my god,” she screams as she practically pulls clumps of my hair from my scalp.

I fucking love it.

No sooner has she finished sucking my fingers deeper into her body do I push to my feet, taking her with me and throwing her onto the couch.

She gazes up at me with lust-filled, wide eyes. Her lips are parted, her chest is heaving, her nipples are hard, and her pussy is slick and desperate for more.

I strip faster than I ever have before in my life and then crawl between her legs, ready to lose myself in my wife for the foreseeable future.

77

TATUM

Kingston looms over me like a vision.

I’m dreaming. I have to be.

Things like this don’t happen to me.

I don’t have men chasing me across the world, no matter how much I might have wished it would happen. I never believed it actually would.

He signed the divorce papers. The cottage has already been sold.

Why is he looking at me like I’m still his?

Like he’s still mine?