All Chapters of My Neighbour's Wife: Chapter 71 - Chapter 80

His breathing becomes ragged, the slightest catch of his breath, the subtlest moan in the back of his throat. Has there ever been a more beautiful sound than this?Bracing, I reach back, guiding him into the entrance of my body.Trust. I trust him way more than I trust myself. I widen my thighs and take in the first inch of him.Zefiro gasps from shock or pleasure, I can’t tell. He holds my hips is his vise-like grip and watches the tight movement of my hips against his. I roll them, breathing hard. He’s always been a tight fit, but I had somehow forgotten. He pulses against my seams, hissing sharply. I rise until I have but his tip at my entrance, and holding his stare, I drive back down, hard, taking in all of him at once. His hips buck and a sound so guttural, it almost seems distorted expels from him.I moan in pleasure, whimper in pain and shut my eyes in the joint ecstasy of both. No. I’m not the same woman I had been before them. They created something else entirely. I will n

Zefiro’s hand on the small of my back feels like a brand and I hate it as much as I hate him right now. The cool air hitting my lungs makes me choke and my heels scrape against the floors as I refuse yet another step forward.I had been silent the entire night, refusing to fall into the despair that awaited me in the dark. Refusing to believe still that he would take me back. But I had awoken this morning to a midnight green dress and a pair of heels laid out for me and balked from it. I wore the dress and hated how pretty it looked on my skin, hated how much my body had filled out again, hated the color that returned to my skin and the light he had brought back to my eyes.Lucia had fussed over me with quick fingers, curling my hair into perfect waves, brushing color onto my cheeks like it would matter when Jaxon slams his fist into it. I hated her for it. Hated the woman in the mirror looking back at me, hated the high slit in the dress that exposed my legs, the strappy golden heels

I earn a moment’s reprieve when Zaytsev proposes a vote and Petrovich snarls at him, promising him murder and the fingers of his wife. Zaytsev doesn’t take that very well and snarls right back, half out of his chair.“It would seem there is a general dissent in the ranks,” Zefiro finally speaks, his voice cutting through the low murmur of the room for the first time and though, not many on our side like his input very much, they do not disagree with him.He toys with the glass of water, looking between the two brothers obviously out for each other’s blood. “Rather than spilling blood, a vote would be the wise choice. Though, I propose the vote not be on who gets the seat, but rather on whether or not the position of Pakhan should be contested for, at all.” He inclines his head towards Petrovich. “That way, you know who’s been whispering behind your back or who is truly loyal. You win, you get to kill them.” And to Zaytsev he murmurs, “And you just might get the opportunity to make a g

The door on my left swings open and the little pockets of air I’ve selfishly gulped down my throat vanishes as Zefiro slides in beside me.My nails prick the leather of the backseat and a white handkerchief lands in my thigh. My fingers squeeze the silken material, unsure if it is meant for the blood or my tears and I let myself glance left. There is blood on his sleeves.“You could’ve told me.” My voice cracks on the last word.His head cocks, but his gaze remains out the window. “I did.” When his brown eyes find mine, there is fire alive in them…and hurt. “You’ll never trust me, will you?”“I—I was…I d—didn’t…I just—“He shakes his head and laughs a little, dark curls caressing his high cheekbones. “You have no idea the lengths I would go, the depravities I would commit to protect you. And if I could, I would carry your pain and scars, wear them with pride so you never have to. I would give—have given—everything. I have killed for you, bled for you, gone to war with myself, my worl

****“And the divorce proceedings with Valentina? God forbid you remain with the crazy bitch,” his grandaunt, Virginia says, her glass of red wine hovering close to her lips.My gaze flicks to Zefiro as he slices through his steak, his expression calm as ever, if a little warm. “Nearly done. It’s slower because of the case. Give it another month.” His mouth tightens. “Or two.”The dinner passed incident, though, the first few minutes had been tense. The introductions, especially. Mrs. Della Rocca had introduced me as a family friend, but upon hearing my name, every ear had perked. I quickly found that most of the females were like his grandmother—protective, sharp-eyed, and sent to constantly set me on edge.Though, they never strayed too far in their questioning, as if respecting some unspoken rule, I found myself being watched by too many. Varying shades of curiosity and interest, but nothing daunting.Zefiro has four cousins, all scattered down the family line, almost watered d