Page 26 of Desperate Measures

I might be a lax Catholic, but I was raised with certain beliefs, even if my father flouted them.

But I really did not believe in cheating.

A commitment was a commitment, and unconventional marriage or not, I was fucking committed to this thing.

The reasons didn’t matter. What mattered was I would never worry about not having a woman again.

Cause you have Michaela now, don’t you, boyo?

But did I? I turned my head and clenched my jaw at the picture she made.

My little wife looked demure as fuck, just sitting there in her ivory dress, hands clamped in front of her, and lower lip between her pearly white teeth.

But that kitten had claws. And I couldn’t wait to feel them scratching up my back.

It was just luck I found Michaela attractive.

More than that.

My dick hadn’t stopped throbbing since my gaze landed on the dark-eyed beauty I knew a long time ago. She was different now.

Older.

Mature.

Pretty as fuck.

And I was a sick fucking bastard to be thinking about fucking her when we haven’t even had a chance to talk.

What could I say?

I wasn’t a saint. Never pretended to be.

“We’re here, Boss.”

My driver jumped out of the car, moving towards my wife’s door.

“I got it,” I growled, standing outside the car and taking her hand.

Michaela looked surprised, but she moved, following my unspoken command. She undid her buckle and slid across the seat, exiting the vehicle on the same side as me.

Something primal hummed inside of me, pleased she was able to tell what I wanted,or needed, in that moment.

What the fuck was wrong with me?

Chapter 9-Michaela

The penthouse was gorgeous. But there was no reason to think it wouldn’t be.

I’d lived in and visited many beautiful places, so I knew quality, and whoever had designed Liam O’Doyle’s condominium, they were good.

Real good.

I felt a twinge of jealousy zip down my spine, wondering if a woman had a hand in decorating the place. I picked up a soft ivory pillow from the enormous leather couch in the living room and ran my hand over the material.

Nice. Really nice.

“Would you like a drink?” he asked, and I turned to face him.