Stolen Dove: Stolen Hearts Series by Blake, Carina (ebook reader 7 inch txt) 📕

I huff and turn my head, pretending to be offended when really I’m tempted to drop to my knees and suck on his huge cock. I open the drawers to my own amazement. There are plain tees and jeans and a drawer of plain white socks. “Oh. Wow.” I turn to him, gasp, and look back at the drawer and then back at him.

“I thought you’d like some comfortable clothes as well. I know this is an adjustment, but if there’s something you need, please just ask.”

I give him a smile, which shocks him. “Thank you. I’ll get ready right now.”

“You don’t have to thank me, Dove. I am your husband and should provide you with these things. I’ll finish dressing and wait for you.”

“You don’t have to wait for me.”

“I said I will wait.” There’s no arguing with him because I already know that he’s unmovable.

“Fine.” I move past him, brushing my hip against his intentionally.

I'm insanely bold when it comes to him, but somehow, it's because I know I can be. He wants me at his side, but I think it's only until we have babies and then I'll be pushed to the side and become a nanny while he’ll keep mistresses galore.

A part of me aches to be bold enough to ask if there's anything other than sex between us, but that's so stupid and naïve of me. Come on, Dove. Showing your age, aren't you?

I turn on the shower and let it warm up while I pee and wash my hands. After reading a Cosmo book at the doctor's office, I remember it says to do that after sex so you don't get an infection. I can't imagine he'd be pleased if I got an infection. I hope it's not too late. We passed out after our incredible round of orgasms. I'll give the bastard that. He's an incredible lover. Well, at least until he's done coming. As I look in the mirror, I notice the markings on my pale skin. There are several red spots along with two hickeys. I do my best not to giggle. He's marked me like a teenage boy would his girlfriend. Will he always be so animalistic and territorial?

Get your head out of the clouds and be happy with what you have. A nice warm bed with a sex god and a roof over your head. It's more than I expected out of life less than twelve hours ago. I test the water and it's perfect, so I climb in and sigh as the heat soothes my tender skin.

I see a bunch of female products on the shower rack. It's clear that they're all brand new, which makes me happy. He truly went all out to get this stuff here in time. Did he plan to pick a wife when he left? A virgin sale would be a great place to pick a good girl who hasn't been tainted in his eyes by another man.

Ugh, I bet he's had hundreds of lovers over the years. Don't go there, girl. You'll only upset yourself and he's not worth it.

I ignore all thoughts of him and wash up quickly. In my rush, I accidentally used his body wash. Oops. Oh well, I'm not going to rewash. I'm sure he's impatiently waiting for me out there.

I tilt my head back and rinse out the conditioner and then rinse my body. I reach out and grab one of the towels and moan against the plush, warm material. These are by far the nicest towels I've ever felt. Damn, things are already a lot better than home. It's not perfect, but I could get used to this—even if I’m trapped in a loveless marriage to a mobster.

I dry my body off in the bathroom so he doesn’t see me change. I’m not sure why I’m feeling suddenly self-conscious; the man has seen me naked in every single way, he’s tasted my body, possessed it. Once I’ve slipped on the perfectly fitted clothes, I wrap my hair up again and step back into the bedroom. I’m surprised at the picture in front of me. Victor’s not in a suit. I lick my lips, hoping that I get this casual look more often.

7

Victor

I snarl as the bathroom door closes behind her. Damn it. There should be a rule of no closed bathroom doors. I want to sneak in there and watch her shower. I stab my fingers through my damp hair. I’ve turned into a little pervert. I’m hard as fuck, thinking about the hot water sliding down her smooth skin. My cock bobs in agreement as I take it in hand. Frustrated, I storm into the closet and pull out a pair of boxer briefs and painfully slip them on over my thick rod. Ignoring the unwanted erection, I pick out a pair of jeans and an undershirt with a pale green polo. When she steps out of the bathroom ten minutes later, I’m floored. She’s in a pair of khaki slacks with a light pink fitted polo and bare feet. Her long blonde hair is still wrapped up in a towel with a strand falling out and framing her face.

“Sorry to keep you waiting. I have to brush my hair.”

“Take your time. They can wait for us.” I sit on the bed and put on some socks and shoes. The hardwood floors up here are heated, but the rest of the house doesn’t have them.

I look up, and she’s staring at me. “What’s up, esposa?”

“I didn’t think you owned jeans,” she mutters in surprise.

“I do. I don’t wear them often, but we’re home and have no plans to go out, so I don’t see anything wrong with it.” She smiles and then tilts her head toward my cock imprint. Well, that’s a setback, but she can make that happen with any pants I’d wear. “Sorry.” I’m not sorry. Not one damn bit, especially when her