Two Little Secrets From My Boss

Chapter 32

[POV Xander]

The penthouse was quiet when we finally returned.

The twins had fallen asleep in the car, their flower crowns wilted, their small bodies heavy with exhaustion and sugar. I carried Nina while Daphne carried Lisa, and we moved through the darkened apartment like we'd been doing this together for years rather than months.

It should have felt natural. Instead, it terrified me in ways I couldn't name.

"She's completely out," Daphne whispered, settling Lisa into her bed. "I don't think she'll wake up until noon tomorrow."

"Nina either," I tucked the blanket around my daughter—my daughter, a phrase I still marveled at—and pressed a kiss to her forehead. "They gave everything they had today."

"They were perfect," Daphne smoothed Lisa's hair back from her face, her touch gentle and practiced. "Even when Nina decided to throw petals directly at Archie's head."

"She has excellent aim, and I'm proud of her."

Daphne laughed softly, and the sound did something to my chest. Something warm and aching that I still wasn't used to feeling.

We left the twins' room together, pulling the door mostly closed behind us. The hallway stretched between the children's space and the master suite, and I was acutely aware of every step we took.

This was my wedding night.

I had negotiated with hostile boards and survived betrayals that would have destroyed lesser men. None of that prepared me for watching my wife walk into our bedroom.

Daphne moved with a confidence that still surprised me. She reached behind her back to find the zipper of her dress, and I crossed the room in three strides.

"Let me do this."

My fingers found the tab, sliding it down slowly. The ivory fabric parted to reveal the curve of her spine, the clasp of her bra, the dimples at the small of her back that I had traced with my tongue more times than I could count.

"You're shaking… Are you nervous?" she turned to face me, letting the dress pool at her feet, standing there in nothing but cream-colored lace. "We've done this before, Xander."

"Not like this," I cupped her face in my hands, tilting it up to meet my gaze. "Not as your husband. It changes everything."

I kissed her then—slow, deliberate, nothing like the desperate claiming of our earlier encounters. This was reverence instead of hunger, though the hunger still burned beneath my ribs.

Daphne's fingers worked the buttons of my shirt while I walked her backward toward the bed. She pushed the fabric from my shoulders, and her palms spread across my chest, feeling my heartbeat hammer against her touch.

"I love you," she whispered against my mouth. "I don't think I've said it enough today."

"You said it during your vows."

"That was for the witnesses," her hands slid lower, working my belt. "This is just for you."

I groaned as she freed me, her fingers wrapping around my length with confident pressure. My hips jerked involuntarily, seeking more contact, more friction, more of her.

"Daphne..."

"Tell me what you want," her eyes held mine, dark with desire but also with something softer. Complete and terrifying trust.

"I want to take my time," I lifted her, carrying her to the center of the bed, "and memorize every inch of you. I want you to feel this tomorrow, and the day after, and every day for the rest of our lives."

I unclasped her bra with steady hands. Her breasts spilled free, and I lowered my mouth to one pink nipple, drawing it between my lips while she arched beneath me.

"Xander, please..."

"We have time," I kissed my way across her chest to the other breast, lavishing the same attention there. "All the time in the world is ours now."

It was true and it wasn't. We had tonight, but tomorrow would bring reality, work, responsibilities. The endless demands of an empire that never stopped requiring attention.

But tonight, there was only her.

I pulled her panties down her legs and settled between her thighs, breathing in the scent of her arousal. When my tongue found her center, she gasped and her fingers tangled in my hair.

I took my time there too. Slow strokes, deliberate circles, learning her responses all over again even though I'd mapped this territory before. She tasted like honey and salt, and I couldn't get enough.

"I need you," she panted, tugging at my shoulders. "Please, Xander. I need you inside me."

I crawled up her body and positioned myself at her entrance. Our eyes locked, and her legs wrapped around my waist.

I pushed inside slowly, inch by inch, watching her face transform with pleasure. Her walls clenched around me, welcoming, demanding, pulling me deeper until I was fully seated and we were breathing the same air.

"This is where I belong," I said roughly. "Right here, with you."

"Then stay," she pulled me down for a kiss. "Stay with me."

I moved then—long, deep strokes that built gradually in intensity. Daphne matched my rhythm, her hips rising to meet each thrust, her nails scoring lines down my back that I knew I'd feel for days.

The pace increased. What started as reverence transformed into something wilder, something primal that I couldn't have controlled even if I'd wanted to. She was moaning my name, and I was chanting hers, and the bed was creaking beneath us in a rhythm that matched my pounding heartbeat.

"Come with me," I demanded, my hand sliding between our bodies to find her clit. "I want to feel you shatter around me."

"Xander!" Her back arched off the bed as the orgasm hit her, her inner muscles clamping down on me with almost painful intensity.

I followed her over the edge, spilling inside her with a groan that I muffled against her shoulder. The release seemed endless, wave after wave of pleasure that left me hollowed out and rebuilt in the same breath.

We lay tangled together afterward, her head on my chest, my fingers tracing lazy patterns on her spine. The sweat cooled on our skin, and our breathing gradually slowed to something approaching normal.

"The girls might have heard us," Daphne murmured.

"They're two floors away and unconscious from a sugar coma. They didn't hear anything."

"You sound very confident about that."

I pressed a kiss to the top of her head. "I am. Besides, we're married now, so we're allowed to make noise."

She laughed, the vibration traveling through her body into mine. "What a compelling argument."

"I'm known for my persuasive abilities."

"Among others," her hand traced down my stomach, and I caught it before she could reach her destination.

"Later," I promised. "Let me recover first. I'm not twenty anymore."

"You're not exactly ancient either," she settled against me, with her body relaxing into sleep. "Thank you for today, and for everything."

"You don't need to thank me for marrying you."

"I'm thanking you for showing up," her voice was growing drowsy. "For staying and choosing us."

She fell asleep within minutes, her breathing evening out into the soft rhythm I'd come to know so well. I held her close, listening to the silence of the penthouse, feeling the weight of my family pressing in on every breath.

The twins, sleeping down the hall. My wife, warm and trusting in my arms. This life I'd somehow stumbled into, so different from the cold empire I'd built around myself for protection.

I should have felt peace. Instead, unease flickered beneath the contentment: familiar, unwelcome, impossible to ignore. External forces never allowed me peace for long. Bianca's public humiliation still burned, and her husband’s wounded pride festered somewhere in the city.

Daphne shifted in her sleep, murmuring something unintelligible, and I tightened my arms around her.

Nothing would threaten what we'd built. I would make certain of it.

I stared into the darkness, my mind already calculating, planning, preparing for threats I couldn't yet see but knew were coming. The world had taught me that happiness was temporary, that love was a vulnerability, that everything precious could be taken.

This time would be different because I would make it so. Whatever came next, I would be ready.