Page 143 of The Viper's Wife

He’ll learn soon enough—he was right to fear me.

31

VALERIA

“You shouldn’t be here.”

Nico winks at me through the door opening, sparking a rush of heat down my spine. He’s dressed in jeans and his black bomber jacket like he’s just come back from a midnight stroll around the block, not his hotel room a few doors down.

Despite the fact that I’m pregnant with their grandchild and we’ve broken nearly every other possible rule, Nico’s parents were insistent on us maintaining tradition the night before the wedding by sleeping in separate rooms.

Not that I’ve done much sleeping. I’ve spent the last few hours lying in bed and counting the ceiling tiles while my heart raced, warning me of every possible disaster—and a few impossible ones—that could come when I walk down the aisle tomorrow.

Nico leans his head against the wall. “I couldn’t stay away, knowing you weren’t sleeping.”

A smile brushes across my mouth. “Who told you I couldn’t sleep?”

“You didn’t eat a bite at the rehearsal dinner tonight, soyou’re hungry. You were moved around like a doll all night, so you’re frustrated. I don’t hear the sounds of people being horrifically maimed on your TV, so you’re anxious.” He holds up a grocery bag, shaped suspiciously like butter and a loaf of bread. “So I came to take care of you.”

I glance between him and the food. A smirk grows across his lips.

Fuck it.

“Make it quick,” I say and swing the door open.

He slips into my hotel room like a street cat seeking refuge, stealing a kiss as I shut and lock the door behind him.

“Did anyone see you?” I ask.

“Only my father’s men.” He sets the food on the entryway table and looms over me, his hands cradling my jaw so he can press more warm kisses to my mouth. “But don’t worry about them. You only need to worry about yourself.”

I scoff breathlessly. “I think I have that covered.”

A pained look flashes across his features, and guilt settles low in my belly.

I know he feels it too—that pressure against your skin that signals a storm is coming. The prickle of fear against the back of your neck that warns of someone watching you.

But he’s doing everything he can to protect us. I know he is.

I wrap my arms around his waist.

No matter what happens, I want to make sure he always knows how much I believe in him.

I kiss him back, hard and eager. And how much I trust him.

A moan slips from my mouth. And how much I love him.

He responds with a fierce urgency, shoving his muscular thigh between my legs and scraping a thumb across the silk nightgown covering my nipple. I rock against him, chasing the sensations he offers me so effortlessly.

“Do you need me to fuck you?” he rasps.

Getting married tomorrow, the dread of knowing our lives will be in danger every day after, fades as Nico’s thumb brushes against my lower lip.

My heart in my throat, I look back at him and nod.

“Say it,” he murmurs. In my hotel room’s low light, his amber eyes are bright as a tiger’s.

“I need you to fuck me, Nico.”