Chapter 5 Mia
FIVE
MIA
“You’re ovulating.”
I blink slowly as Jensen rounds the bed, clutching his phone like it’s a guidebook for when to fuck your wife.
I do some quick mental math. It’s been just under five days since I finished my period.
Am I ovulating? “How do you even know that?”
“I’m tracking it.” He says it without a hint of awkwardness, as if monitoring my menstruation is normal.
“You have a twenty-eight-day cycle—” I don’t even want to ask how he knows that either “—which means you’re entering your fertile period now.
According to the app, your predicted ovulation date won’t be for another five days, but sperm can survive for three to five days in the uterus, so if we start now, we should hit the right window. ”
I’m not sure whether to be amused or scared.
“Is this where the romance dies?” I tease.
He glances up, his brows tight. “The romance hasn’t gone anywhere, beautiful. I’m still hopelessly, emphatically addicted to you.”
He kneels in front of me, his phone forgotten as he parts my legs. I’m only wearing one of his T-shirts, and a pair of cotton panties I pulled on after my shower. His fingers trail up my thigh, leaving goosebumps where he’s touched.
“You’re making fertility spreadsheets, Jensen.” My breath hitches as he cups me, my wetness soaking through the fabric of my panties.
All thoughts of ovulation vanish out of my head as a shiver caresses through my body.
“I’d fuck you even if you weren’t ovulating. I love being inside my wife.” He hums. “You’re soaked.”
I touch his face, my thumb circling over his stubble. He and I have been through so much over the years. The days when we had nothing, and lived in one room. Surviving on noodles while we stretched our paychecks to breaking point. Then to his first hundred dollars made in Novariv.
It seems easy now—the stunning apartment, the cars and the money that flows in abundance—but it wasn’t always that way. We weren’t always breathing freely.
Beneath his obsession and need for control, I see the teenage boy I fell in love with all those years ago when we were just kids struggling to find our place in the world.
“I don’t want to lose us in this,” I say quietly, giving voice to the fear I didn’t even know I was holding onto.
There’s a flash of something in his eyes. “There is nothing that could make me lose sight of you, Mia. You’re the only reason I exist.”
He kisses me, his hand curling around my nape like he’s afraid I might back away. Every brush of his lips is tender, but possessive, like he’s trying to say with his mouth what he can’t with words.
When he pulls back, he’s breathless and so am I. He kisses my thigh, like I’m his altar and he’s on his knees, worshipping me.
“I have to get ready,” I say softly, hating every word. I’d give anything to crawl back into bed and waste the whole day tangled in him. “I can’t be late today, which means you’ll have to tie me to the bed later. Sorry.”
He grunts. “I’ll untie you before nine,” he promises, stroking my thigh. His fingers drift dangerously close to where I still ache for him. “You won’t be late.”
I roll my eyes. “I’ve not been on time once this week.”
“That’s because you’re so fucking perfect in the mornings.” He dips his fingers into my panties and finds my clit.
My hips jerk instinctively.
Even though I know I should pull away, I grab his wrist, holding him there. Stars build behind my eyes, pleasure blooming where only he can reach.
“How do you expect me to keep my hands off you when you’re always so ready for me?” He teases my entrance, and my thighs fall further apart. “Do you know what that does to me?”
My climax builds, cresting with every circle of his thumb. When his finger slips inside me, it’s too much. My body locks and then shatters.
Jensen grips my thighs, pulling my ass to the edge of the mattress. I end up on my back, staring at the ceiling before I can figure out what’s happening.
I close my eyes, the anticipation making my heart race. When he presses the thick head of his cock against my entrance, a shiver races through me, wild and electric.
“I’ll always take care of you, beautiful,” he murmurs. “I love you so much.”
And then he pushes inside me.
An hour later, I’m sitting at the desk in the gallery, sore between my legs, and trying not to replay the filth that spilled from my husband’s mouth. Juno has been eyeballing me with that little smile she does when she knows I’ve had a busy morning getting fucked into a coma.
I’m ignoring her. I won’t give her any more ammunition. Instead, I’m staring at the pile of portraits leaning against the partition wall. We have to get all of them in place before the exhibition tonight, and some of these frames are heavy.
“Did you confirm with the caterers?” I ask, mentally running through the list of things I still have to do today.
Juno hums. “And we’re due to have the Champagne delivered in an hour. Relax, Mia. Everything is taken care of.”
“What would I do without you?” I mean it. She’s the only reason this place still runs.
“Have less fun.” She grins. “Come on, let’s get this done, so we can sit down.”
I reach for the top frame, but stop when I hear the door jangle. I can’t see who it is, but I know Theo is sitting at his little station, so I’m safe.
And then I feel him.
It’s always the same when I’m in his orbit. The air feels thicker, denser, and my heart picks up its beat before I see him, like my body knows before my eyes.
I turn as he walks toward me, gaze locked, that half smile he does that sends my knees wobbly. He looks sinful. His button-down shirt is open at the neck, the sleeves rolled up his thick forearms, his pants sitting just right on his waist, the belt shiny and expensive.
Juno nudges me. “Your mouth is hanging open.”
I quickly shut it. Then I cross the space between us, my arms instinctively wrapping around his waist the moment I’m close enough. His nose goes into my hair, like it always does, and he just breathes me in.
And just like that I feel better. Whole.
“What are you doing here?” I don’t mean it to come out as sharp as it does, but he’s supposed to be at work. He had meetings this morning.
“I came to help my amazing wife prepare for her exhibition tonight.”
I pull back and blink up at him. “You… You came to help me set up?”
He brushes my hair back from my face, his touch so gentle compared to the way he took me this morning. “I don’t want you lifting those heavy paintings.”
My heart feels full. “We were planning on roping in Theo.”
The grunt he makes in the back of his throat has my lips kicking up at the corners.
“He is very good at lifting heavy things.” He kisses my temple, then my forehead before he claims my mouth like we’re alone, like Juno isn’t standing ten feet away from us.
When we break apart, I lift my chin to look at him.
“You don’t have to do this. We’ll manage. ”
“I know, but I want to.” He kisses me one last time and then eyes the paintings. “Put me to work, beautiful.”
And I do. He and Theo do everything we ask, even moving one painting three times because I didn’t like the lighting. It takes hours to get everything set up, but he doesn’t let me lift a single thing.
Juno neither.
The last display we set up is mine. Jensen tilts his head at the placard he just attached to the wall. “A Study in Contrast: The Heart and Hope of Loving Hands.”
My stomach flips and the floor feels a little unsteady beneath my feet. Does he get it? Does he hate it?
There are five portraits. All in charcoal, the mix of gentle shadows and hardlines. Every single one is detailed and sensual in a way hands shouldn’t be.
He shifts to the first piece. The fingers are the focus of this piece. Fingers that can hold me so tenderly and leave bruises on my thighs. That curl around my neck so he can love me. That cradle my face when I cry.
His hands.
I’ve been sketching them for weeks. So many variations that it made sense for it to be the theme of my series.
I hold my breath, tendrils of anxiety rippling through me. I want him to like it.
Jensen steps to the next one, studying it with the same intensity. I don’t know when it happened, but Juno and Theo have drifted away, leaving us in this pocket of quiet.
The silence settles like a weight on my shoulders.
Jensen cuts a glance over his shoulder at me. “They’re my hands?”
I nod. My mouth is suddenly dry. “Is it weird?”
Jensen walks over to me. Prowls really. He’s so much taller than I am, and he has this way of filling every space he’s in.
He makes me feel consumed, like nothing can touch me when he’s with me.
“I love them all. You really are talented. And they deserve to be displayed, not just to fill the space, beautiful.”
A few hours later I’m in a cocktail dress that feels too tight around my hips, too snug around my breasts and I’m clutching a glass of nonalcoholic sparkling wine like a lifeline.
My stomach is in knots.
The gallery is swarming with people, the buzz in the room excited. Theo and another one of Jensen’s security team, Luca, are standing close, scanning every face like they’re hostile.
Jensen’s across the room, deep in conversation with a few investors. He has that easy look on his face he gets when he’s enjoying himself. This is where my husband shines. He can empty anyone’s wallet just through the art of conversation.
As if he knows I’m staring, his eyes find mine, heated and sinful as he slides them down my body.
He definitely likes the dress, and I’m pretty sure he’ll be peeling me out of it once this event is over.
My thighs clench in anticipation and I take another sip of my drink to cover the fact I really want to cross the room and mount my husband like a stallion.
“If I have to speak to one more person about why modern art has a place in creative circles, I’m going to scream!” Juno’s voice slices through my thoughts and I almost choke on my drink.