Now he laughs. "Close enough."
"Imagine how boring it'd be without this," I question with a wave of my arm.
He nods. "Boring… or peaceful?"
I shrug. "Same diff."
"I suppose," he mutters.
"Admit it, Cage dude. You love me," Xan taunts.
"I wouldn't go that far," Cage replies and I laugh.
"I'm wounded. Deeply, deeply wounded," Xander retorts, feigning sadness.
Cage sits there, the only sign of his amusement is the tiny lift of one of the corners of his mouth. "You'll recover."
"You're so hot when you're all quietly commanding," I whisper in his ear, then bite the lobe gently.
Cage stands and pushes his chair in. He gives me the look. Oh, that look. That's the look that tells me he wants to rip my clothes off and have his way with every inch of my body. Mmm, I want that too, so I stand with him, placing my napkin on the table.
"If you'll excuse us," Cage addresses.
He places his hand on the small of my back and leads me toward the exit of the ballroom. I can still hear the catcalls from our table as my heels click over the inlaid wooden floor. Let them tease all they want. They just don't know.
ButIknow and my knees are weak at the thought of all he's about to do to me.
Cage presses the elevator button, looking down at my chest where my nipples are already hard, then meeting my gaze and smirking just a bit.
Arrogant, egotistical, completely full of himself. That's my husband. But he has a right to be. Especially about this.
We step onto the elevator along with a few other couples and Cage waits for them all to disembark before he slides his keycard in and presses the button to our suite.
The only tell that he's holding on to his control by a thread is the occasional twitch of his finger against my back. Other than that, he's stoic and quiet, while I'm over here humming with want, wet and ready for him to take me wherever and however he wants. He sees it in my eyes as he always does. It's what pushes his buttons. And all of that thrills me beyond words.
Only Cage Nichols. Only ever, him.
