Page 73 of Gunnar

“Yes.” I glance toward her again, unable to help myself and unable to pretend my attention is anywhere else.

“She’s stunning.”

The word doesn’t remotely do her justice. “That she is.”

“Half the room has been staring at her all night.” It doesn’t surprise me. Between her beauty and her status in Hollywood, Devyn always draws attention. “You did well for yourself.”

I smile politely, already half distracted. Just tell them you have a huge cock. I hold back a chuckle as Devyn’s teasing explanation for how I pulled a woman as amazing as her flits through my thoughts before excusing myself to get another—much-needed—drink.

More people drift over to greet me as the evening progresses. A television actress with impossibly smooth skin who thanks me for Aegis’s discretion during a stalker situation last year. After shoving a drink into my hand, a retired athlete claps me on the shoulder and tells his friend I’m “the best damn security in the business.” Two actresses—who have had a questionable amount of work done—ask whether I’m accepting new clients before discreetly sliding their business cards into my hand, their eyes lingering on parts of me that have nothing to do with security and everything to do with the rumors that have circulated since our relationship went public.

The night is filled with the usual dance—polite conversation, professional admiration, and carefully veiled requests for future appointments. But through it all, my attention drifts across the room to Devyn, who is moving gracefully from one conversation to the next. It’s a skill I’ve always admired, one I could never replicate myself. I’m too blunt and impatient.

She glances in my direction, and when our eyes meet for a brief second, the noise of the room fades away. Devyn lifts her champagne glass in a silent toast, and the corner of my mouth curves in response. The moment passes quickly when someone else clamors for her attention, but the gesture stays with me, reminding me that, no matter how many people surround her, at the end of the night, she’s mine.

By the time the charity presentation ends, and the crowd begins thinning toward the bar and terrace, I finally go in search of my wife. I find her standing near the balcony doors, looking out over the city lights. The breeze from outside lifts a few strands of her hair, and the emerald silk clings to her curves in a way that makes my hands itch to touch her.

“Hiding?” I tease, stepping behind her, close enough to smell her perfume.

She glances over her shoulder, her eyes bright with mischief. “Temporarily.”

“I thought you enjoyed these events.”

“I do,” she insists, turning back toward the view. “In small doses.”

I stand beside her, my hand finding the small of her back and dusting over the bare skin.

Devyn takes a sip of her champagne before asking, “How many people inquired about security tonight?”

“Five.”

“Only five?”

“It’s still early.”

She smiles faintly. “You’re popular.”

I brush my knuckles down her spine toward the small of her back, feeling her shiver at my touch. “And in this dress, so are you. Every man in here is looking at you.”

“Please,” she scoffs. “They’re trying to figure out how they can use me to make millions.”

“I’m not.” I lean down and place a soft kiss on her bare shoulder, tasting the warmth of her skin. “I’m looking at my wife. My baby girl. The woman who spent last night with her legs wrapped around my head while I made her come three times before dinner.”

“Gunnar,” she gasps softly, turning to check whether anyone heard as she playfully slaps my chest.

We stand quietly for a moment, the breeze carrying the faint music and laughter from the ballroom behind us. My hand rests possessively on her hip, my thumb tracing circles on her bare skin. Her hand brushes lightly against mine. It’s a small touch, but its warmth spreads through me immediately, reigniting the fire that’s been smoldering since I first saw her in that dress. “I’m glad we came.”

“So am I,” she replies, turning to face me, the soft glow of the terrace lights catching in her eyes, making them almost golden. “Though I know you’d rather be home.”

“Home has its appeals,” I admit, my voice dropping lower. “Especially when home involves you naked and begging.”

Her hands slide up my chest, her fingers curling into the lapels of my tuxedo. Her smile deepens slightly, and her eyes sparkle with mischief that always goes straight to my cock. She rasps, “I’m pretty sure I can accommodate that request.”

“I’m pretty sure it’s not a request.” I lean closer, slipping my fingers under her chin and tilting her face up slightly before pressing my lips to hers. The kiss is soft and tender, meant to be a promise of more, but when we pull apart, I can read her unspoken thoughts in her gaze. She’s dying to be alone with me as much as I am with her.

Devyn’s fingers curl lightly into the lapels of my jacket, and she glances briefly toward the ballroom behind us before leaning closer again. Her voice lowering just enough that only I can hear, she whispers, “I think I’m done feeling charitable.” Her smile turns playful and teasing. It’s the smile of a woman who knows exactly what she does to me. “Maybe we should go home.”

I raise an eyebrow, my hand tightening on her hip and pulling her flush against me so she can feel exactly what she’s doing to me. “What if I can’t wait to take you home?” The words leave my throat in a gravelly whisper, and they cause her eyes to darken with lust. I don’t need her to answer. Her chest rapidly rises and falls, my good girl always eager to give me exactly what I need.