Page 103 of Top Shelf

The answer strips the teasing from her face, and I take her hand before she can decide to turn that honesty into a joke, lifting it from my thigh and pressing my mouth to her knuckles. The driver changes lanes, and the blinker clicks.

Outside, Denver rushes by, indifferent. But inside, Heidi leans in and kisses the corner of my mouth.

My hand slides to the back of her neck, and this time, I kiss her properly, swallowing her quiet sigh, tasting lime and sugar and the whole loud, noisy night on her mouth. Her hand grips my shirt, then slides beneath the collar.

“Viktor,” she whispers. “I want you.”

I glance toward the driver, but Heidi’s smile curls against my jaw. “You are trouble.”

“Mhm.” Her hand moves back to the top of my thigh, careful enough not to be obvious and deliberate enough to make my pulse thunder. “But you married me.”

I look at my wife in the dim back seat, flushed and laughing and wanting me without apology.

“Yes,” I say, and bend to her mouth again. “I’m so glad I did.”

The cab drops us outside the building, and Heidi keeps her hand in mine all the way through the lobby, into the elevator, down the hall. At the apartment door, she fumbles the keycard, so I take it from her hand, unlock the door, and barely have it closed behind us before she turns and catches the sides of my shirt collar in her fists, tugging me down to her.

The kiss feels loud after the quiet one in the cab. Her mouth opens under mine, and I press her back against the door, my hands sliding up the back of her top to the bare skin underneath. When her fingers drag through my hair, whatever discipline is gone.

“Heidi,” I say against her mouth, “wha—”

“Bedroom,” she breathes, and I lift my head to find her eyes wild and completely certain. “Now, Viktor.”

So I take my wife’s hand and let her tug me to bed.

Chapter fifteen

Heidi

The bedroom door hits the wall hard enough to make my pink sparkly lamp jolt on the nightstand. I’d feel bad about that if Viktor’s mouth wasn’t on mine, but in this moment, I couldn’t give two singular fucks.

He kisses me as though all his polite restraint from the night has finally run out, a hand buried in my hair, the other gripping my waist as he walks me backward into the room. I clutch at his shirt and drag him with me, my pulse still full of the heat in his voice in the cab when he told me he was so glad he married me.

The backs of my knees hit the mattress, and a breathless laugh breaks when I drop onto it and he follows, his hand braced beside my hip, body bending over mine until I’m surrounded by the scent of his cologne. Woody and smoky with citrus.

“Off.” I tug at his shirt.

His mouth curves against mine, but he pulls back only far enough to strip the shirt over his head. The sight of his chest in the low light makes every smart retort I have leave the room without me.

He catches me looking and nods down at me. “Your turn.”

I bite my lip and lift my arms, eyes boring into his and waiting. With a huff of a laugh, he peels my top off slowly, followed by my bra. Then his hands are on my ribs, thumbs sliding beneath the curve of my breasts, his mouth dragging a wet kiss over my skin. I arch into him, running my fingers through his hair, and he groans against me when I tug.

“Viktor…” I nudge hum back until his mouth lifts from my skin. “I’ve been thinking about fucking you for way too long.”

His eyes hold mine, the blue gleaming in the lamplight. But he doesn’t rush into action, which only makes me want him even more.

“What about protection?” he asks. “Condoms?”

“I have an implant too, but for now—”

“Condoms,” he agrees.

“Very sensible of you.”

“I am trying.”

“Don’t sound so pained about it.”