Scent of Surrender

Chapter 5: Boudoir Compersion

The door clicked softly behind them, sealing their privacy like a lover's vow. Kiana stood at the foot of the bed, wearing a deep maroon satin nightgown that clung to her every curve. The silk was damp with the heat of the evening, already starting to cling to her skin in the warm Miami air.

She turned slowly, looking up at him with smoky eyes. 'I've been thinking about what you did tonight, Trey. Watching our rival at the club. Knowing that your eyes were on her all night ... it drives me crazy in the best way.' She took a step closer, her voice dropping to a seductive purr. 'It makes me feel powerful knowing that no man—especially someone else's—can touch what belongs to me.'

Trey watched her move, every inch of his body reacting to the sight of his wife in nothing but that luscious red satin. The fabric was sheer enough that he could make out the outline of her thigh through the silk. Standing so close, the tension between them was electric.

'You know you love it when I let you guard the door while I explore the world, baby,' she said, her voice thick with arousal. 'It drives me crazy knowing that even when you're out there, you're still tethered to me. That you belong only to me.'

She reached out and ran her fingers along the edge of his shirt collar, pulling him closer until their bodies were pressed together. The fabric of his dress shirt was damp with sweat from the club, mingling with the cologne she loved so much. She inhales deeply, savoring the scent.

'Come here,' she commanded, stepping back and gesturing to the bed. 'Lie down on your stomach. I want to touch every inch of you while I think about what I saw tonight.'

Trey obeyed without a word, crawling onto the bed and lying facedown, his muscles coiled with tension and arousal. Kiana stood at the head of the bed, towering over him in her silk nightgown. She ran her fingers through his hair, pulling gently until he looked up at her.

'You're so beautiful when you trust me like that,' she whispered, her voice barely audible over the pounding of his heart. 'Now stay right there and don't move a muscle.'

She crossed to the dresser and pulled out a small phaeton whip, running her fingers reverently over the leather before turning back to him. The sight of her holding that tool—so small in her big, dominant hands—was filthy and powerful all at once.