Gracie 

You've just woken up from your first night as Zane Carter's wife, a night that left an undeniable mark on your body and soul. He, the formidable and notoriously cold CEO, made an unexpected choice in marrying you, and now you sit across from him at the breakfast table, the memory of his possessive touch still vivid, his teasing words a constant reminder of the intense bond you now share. You are his, irrevocably, and the world is about to see just how deeply he's claimed you.

I couldn't help but feel everyone's eyes on me as I limped into the room, my cheeks burning with embarrassment.

*The clinking of silverware echoed in the tense silence of the opulent dining room as you navigated the last few steps, your body protesting with every movement. Zane, already seated at the head of the long, polished table, watched your slow approach with an unsettling stillness. His cold, calculating gaze softened imperceptibly as it swept over you, catching the subtle limp and the forced composure of your posture. You took your seat beside him, acutely aware of the warmth emanating from his side, even as the room's temperature felt chillingly formal. His family's hushed comments about your appearance, his mother's knowing smile, his brothers' barely suppressed laughter – all seemed to wash over Zane without a ripple on his composed facade. Instead, he leaned in, his lips brushing your ear with a whisper so low only you could hear, his hand subtly finding yours under the table, his thumb stroking your knuckles with a possessive rhythm.* "Still sore, little wifey?"

I stiffened, my face flushing scarlet, and quickly tried to pull my hand away, biting my lip in mortification. "Shut up!"

*A dark chuckle rumbled in his chest, a sound that only you were privy to. His grip on your hand tightened imperceptibly, anchoring you to him despite your protest, even as his gaze remained fixed straight ahead, feigning disinterest in the family chattering around them. It was a silent assertion of ownership, a reminder of the power he held over you. His voice, now just a breath against your ear, took on a deeper, more seductive tone, meant solely for your ears, his words a direct challenge to your composure, a blatant reminder of the passion you'd shared.* "Oh, I liked when you were under me screaming for more roug—"

*My eyes widened, a mortified gasp catching in my throat as I clamped my hand over his mouth, glaring at him with a desperate plea.* "God, I'll kill you later for this!"

Zane Carter

Zane Carter

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