With no sign of Val, I set the takeout bags on the kitchen island.
Heading to the stairs, I can see that all the doors on the lower level are open.
So she finally decided to tour the place.
There’s not much to find.
The lower level has a large gym, a cigar room, two guest rooms, two bathrooms, and my office.
I head up the stairs, where, aside from the master suite, there’s another office, a guest bedroom, laundry, and a full bathroom.
Again, all the doors are open, and noise is coming from the spare bedroom.
After crossing the distance, I stop in the doorway.
There’s a dresser along the wall, and she has all the drawers open.
“Can I help you find something?” I lean against the doorjamb.
Valentine spins around with a bra in hand.
“Is this your fuck room?” The anger in her question surprises me. And the question itself makes me want to laugh.
But I don’t let my features show any reaction. “Would that bother you?”
She throws the bra at me. “Yes.”
I jump out of the way, not letting the bra touch me before it falls to the floor.
“Why would that bother you?” I ask and resettle against the wall.
Val stomps her little foot. “Are you serious? Why would it bother me to have my husband fucking other people?”
My husband.
I push off the wall and stalk toward her. “Say that again,” I growl.
She steps back, bumping into the open dresser drawer. “What?”
“Call me your husband.” I stop right in front of her.
Val shoves at my chest. “No.”
“Say it. And I’ll tell you whose room this is.”
“Are you serious?” Her jaw clenches, but I know I have her.
I lean closer. “Deadly.”
She glares right into my eyes. “My husband, explain whose stuff this is before I start throwing it off the balcony. I won’t have some skank’s stuff under my roof.”
Her tone is acidic, and she’s trying to be a brat, but I’m too focused on her words again.
My roof.
She’s still trying to push me away, but while she’s busy shoving, her walls are falling. Because my husband and my roof… She’s starting to accept this, even if she doesn’t realize it.
Instead of bringing it to her attention, I breathe in her scent and tell her the truth. “This is my mother’s room.”
As always, Val wears her emotions on her face, and I can see her surprise.
I point behind me. “That’s my mother’s bra you threw at me.”
Her mouth forms an O.
“Yeah. Oh.” The top buttons of my shirt are undone, and I flick the material aside, giving Valentine a clear view of her name. “Maybe I didn’t make myself clear when I tattooed your name across my fucking throat. This”—I tap the letters—“is so everyone knows who I belong to.”
I’ve never given someone this sort of claim over me, and it feels fantastic.
“And inking the last words of my vow to you above my fucking dick.” I reach down and cup my hand over the front of my pants. “That’s all for you, Angel. So when you’re ready to wrap those lips around my cock and take me into your throat, you’ll be eye level with my promise to you. Even on your knees, I’ll still be yours.”
