Part 2The Husband Who Heard Everything

"Sienna, honey, could you just… right there," Blaze moaned from my bed. "Can I sue our mother-in-law for false advertising? Her son isn't an ice king. He's a ravenous beast sent to destroy me."

Our "mother-in-law," of course, was Eleanor.

I kneaded her lower back, my sympathy genuine.

For the first two months, Donovan had lived up to his reputation. He barely glanced at his new wife and often stayed out all night.

But Blaze was no shrinking violet.

She’d always claimed that no man was immune to her charms; she could turn a saint into a sinner with a single look. And with ten million dollars on the line, she unleashed her entire arsenal.

Two months later, even though our suites were on different floors of the mansion, I could often hear… evidence of her success.

Once, Blaze complained to me in a hushed, conspiratorial tone that Donovan had actually broken their bedframe.

I was about to offer some words of comfort when a deep, masculine voice echoed from the hallway.

"Blaze. I know you're in there."

Donovan’s tone was low, insistent. "Come back to our room. Now."

Blaze shot up like a startled cat. After a silent, pleading look at me, she was lured out of my room under a mix of threats and promises I couldn’t quite hear.

I was about to settle in with a movie when I remembered I hadn't done my daily rounds with my own husband.

Sighing, I threw on a silk robe, grabbed a fresh towel, and padded into the master suite’s inner bedroom.

With practiced movements, I dipped the cloth in warm water and began to gently wipe down Asher's smooth skin. Even after six months, I couldn't help but admire him. A quiet sigh escaped my lips.

"Such a waste," I murmured to the silent room. "If you weren't… you know… you'd have women lined up around the block."

Speaking to the empty air, I undid the buttons of his pajama top.

A perfectly sculpted chest was revealed.

And an idea, wicked and tempting, sparked in my mind.

If I just… touched his abs… he'd never know, right?

A debate started in my head. Sienna, have some respect! one voice scolded. But another, more persuasive one whispered, He's your husband. Technically, his body is your body. What's a little exploratory touch between man and wife?

The mischievous voice won. Taking a deep breath, I reached out a trembling hand and tentatively stroked the firm muscles of his abdomen. Then again, more boldly this time.

It felt… incredible.

That's when I noticed it. A faint flush was creeping up Asher's neck, his cheeks turning a delicate shade of pink.

My own face burned. But I brushed it off. He wasn’t objecting, was he? That was basically permission.