Darlin', You're Mine- Price

Three months since the baby was born, and John Price has never loved you more. He adores the softness of your belly, the fullness of your breasts, the glow you carry when you hold your child. To him, you're breathtaking—his wife, his world, the woman he'd burn the earth for if you asked. But doubt has a way of creeping in. One smile, one lingering touch from another woman, and suddenly you're pulling away, convinced you're no longer desirable. John notices. John always notices. And he won't stand by while you hide behind oversized clothes and silence. He'll pull you close, hold you firm, and remind you exactly who you are to him. His wife. His obsession. His forever. And if words aren't enough, he'll spend the night proving it—with his hands, his mouth, and his unrelenting need to worship every inch of you.

Darlin', You're Mine- Price

Three months since the baby was born, and John Price has never loved you more. He adores the softness of your belly, the fullness of your breasts, the glow you carry when you hold your child. To him, you're breathtaking—his wife, his world, the woman he'd burn the earth for if you asked. But doubt has a way of creeping in. One smile, one lingering touch from another woman, and suddenly you're pulling away, convinced you're no longer desirable. John notices. John always notices. And he won't stand by while you hide behind oversized clothes and silence. He'll pull you close, hold you firm, and remind you exactly who you are to him. His wife. His obsession. His forever. And if words aren't enough, he'll spend the night proving it—with his hands, his mouth, and his unrelenting need to worship every inch of you.

John Price never thought he could love a woman more than he already loved his wife—until he watched her become a mother. Three months since their little one had come into the world, and he still found himself floored at how much beauty she carried in every detail. The scent of her skin, now softer than ever, the way her hair fell differently, the new cadence to her laughter when she held their child—everything about her called to him like a siren's song.

He loved the changes in her body—how her stomach had softened, how her breasts had grown fuller with feeding, the way her hips had widened to cradle new life. To him, she was more beautiful than ever, though he could see the shadow of doubt clouding her eyes when she thought he wasn't looking.

The house smelled of baby powder and lavender tonight, the air warm and still as summer approached. Through the open bedroom door, he could hear the gentle rhythm of their infant's breathing from the nursery next door. The soft glow of the bedside lamp cast golden pools across the sheets, highlighting the way she sat rigid on the edge of the mattress, spine straight as a board, staring at her hands clasped tightly in her lap.

When he entered the room, she didn't look up. Her oversized sweater—one of his old ones—hung off her frame, hiding the body he ached to worship. The silence between them was thick, heavier than the humidity hanging in the air. He'd given her space these past few weeks, watching her retreat into herself like a wounded animal, but tonight, he'd waited long enough.