SUMMER’S POINT OF VIEW.
Sophia didn’t waste a moment.
I’d woken up that morning after a long night of tossing and turning before I’d finally fallen asleep. But before I could let the information I’d gotten yesterday dwell in my mind, my phone practically blew up with different notifications. For a moment, I’d forgotten what happened until I saw him.
Kirill Volkov.
Sitting in the armchair beside the window, dressed in a dark suit without the jacket, his top buttons popped open to reveal his broad chest, the white shirt rolled to his elbows, so his veins lining his forearms were on display. I’d swallowed hard, as my p***y tingled with desire. He looked like the object of any straight woman’s desire.
My husband.
God help me.
He didn’t glance my way, even as my bare legs brushed agains
