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With her bare feet perched on top of mine, I slowly walk her backward, one foot at a time, until we’re standing at the entrance of our newly renovated bed-fort. Behind her head, I clap my hands twice, activating special lights. The tent’s interior illuminates, making it even more magical.

“Pink fairy lights?!” She marvels.

“Someone told me it’s the best color.” I run my hand over her back and coil the silky tips of her long hair around my fingers. I lightly tug them until her chin tilts and her sparkling eyes meet mine.

“Mr. Salami, I think you’re losing your villainous edge. What will you do next, smother me with kittens?” she teases.

“We’ll revisit that idea later, but for now . . .” I tilt my head.

Sophia’s gaze follows. “Presents?”

She squirms out of my grasp and climbs onto the mattress. Her sundress rides up over her thighs, revealing ice-blue panties. As I climb in after her, I do everything within my power not to bite her bouncy ass, though it’s nearly impossible with it swaying in front of my face, seducing me.

I join her in our extra-huge bed with my legs stretched out, my head sinking into a stack of pillows. Beside me, Sophia rifles through the giftwrapped boxes. I didn’t account for the happiness this would give me, only how it would make her feel.

Turns out, I like spoiling my lady. My lady. Mine. Now, I only need to convince her she needs me as much as I need her.

“What are they for?” Sophia shakes a box while holding it to her ear. She repositions, sitting upright with her legs crossed. She’s so excited, she can’t sit still.

“Do I need a reason to give you presents?” With my fingertip, I play connect-the-dots with the freckles on her leg.

She pauses, considering. “Are they going to explode with confetti or something?”

“Anything’s possible.” I chuckle.

“If I’m going down, you are too.” She throws a knee over my stomach, mounting me and settling her ass into the saddle of my hips. With the way she fits, it’s proof she was made to ride me.

“Happily.” My palms slide back and forth over her creamy thighs, and my thoughts race as I grin.

Maybe I’d like a pretty pink box to unwrap too.

Meanwhile, Sophia spins the present in her hand. She’s still assessing it from every angle, searching for booby traps.

“Just open it,” I grumble.

“If this glitter-bombs the bed, you’re cleaning it up,” she says.

“If this glitter-bombs the bed, we’ll roll around on it naked.” I grin.

“It’s all fun and games until you find glitter wedged in your hoo-ha a year later.”

“It would be my life’s honor to keep your hoo-ha glitter-free.” I place my hand over my heart as if I’m pledging fealty.

Sophia laughs and settles the box on my chest. Quick fingertips tear open the wrapping paper. She reads the designer’s name, flips off the top, and suddenly becomes unconcerned about exploding kittens or aging hoo-ha glitter.

“Aww, pretty new murder shoes,” she coos.

“For your arsenal.”

“They’re too fancy to throw at you.” She lifts one, revealing a delicate heeled sandal with beaded flowers. Candy-colored striped fabric covers the insole.

“Guess you’ll just have hurt me with them in other ways.” I squeeze her thighs.

“Other ways?” She cranks her head.

“We are in our tent home.” I gesture to our surroundings.

“Our tent home?” She lifts one eyebrow, appearing suspicious.