Moonshine

Smoke & Mirrors

Chapter 1

Tanya

I am madly in love with my husband. He's everything I have ever wanted. Attentive, passionate and devoted. Every morning, I wake up to his whisper words of love, and every night, he worships my body as if I am the only one he desires, the center of his universe, his greatest treasure. I am the luckiest woman!

"Good evening, my love." I giggled as he walked through the door, pressing a warm kiss against my lips. "How's your day?" he asked before kissing me again, this time lingering just a little longer. His hand rested on the small of my back, tracing soft, soothing circles as he settled beside me in the living room.

"I'm good. My day was okay. It was busy in the set because my guests are a famous love team. How about you, how's your day?" I asked and planted a gentle kiss on his cheek.

"Good, but better now since I'm with you." He said, then he embraced me and planted a kiss on my forehead. "Everything is better with you." He whispered, then planted a kiss on the sensitive part of my skin just below my ear. I giggled, leaning into him, my heart melting all over again. My god, this man. He's so sweet and perfect.

"Dinner? I cooked." I spoke. We have private chefs for this but I wanted to cook for my husband. I want to be the perfect wife for him. He spoils me so much so I want to do the same for him, plus he does not complain with my cooking, in fact, he enjoys it. Well, I am not so bad with it.

"Are you on the menu?" He asked. Leaning closer to me as if he's not close enough. My breath hitches when I felt his hot breath on my skin. His arms spread on the back of the couch, his hand playing with the strand of my hair. I gasped dramatically and I swatted his thigh and pretended to be shock with his question. But seriously, I have to clench my legs harder together which I know he noticed since I heard his low chuckle.

"Oh, I'm sorry but I am not on the menu, my dear husband. You may want to settle with salad, chicken and pasta."

"No desserts? That means that you're the dessert." He replied and I gasped. His hand landed on my thigh, his fingers drumming on my inner thigh.

"You ..." I said and squinted my eyes at him.

"What?" He asked innocently, though the twinkle in his eyes gave him away. I ended up my husband's dessert.

-

The next morning, I woke up to the sight of a beautiful bouquet of flowers on my bedside table. My husband stood on the balcony, a cup of coffee in hand, his robe draped loosely over him as he spoke on the phone. I smiled, watching him, my heart swelling with love.

God, this man. It should be illegal to look this good so early in the morning. How am I supposed to function when he's standing there like that, calm, composed, and utterly devastating?

A few seconds later, he turned his gaze to me, his lips curling into that breathtaking smile of his. He leaned back in his chair and crooked his finger, beckoning me to come closer. My smile widened as I climbed out of bed and made my way to him.

As soon as I was close enough, he took my hand, pulled me onto his lap, and continued his conversation, his fingers idly tracing patterns on my thigh.

This is one of the things I adore about my husband. Unlike the men I grew up with; my father; my brother, Morris sees me as his equal. He includes me in his business dealings, values my opinions, and introduces me to his colleagues as his partner, his confidant, his ally. There are no secrets between us, only trust.

"Yes. I'll ask my wife," he said into the phone, his fingers drumming lightly against my leg. I picked up his coffee cup and took a sip, enjoying the warmth.