My Sales Champion Wife's Secrets - Chapter 1: Chapter 1

My wife Lillian is breathtaking—creamy skin, striking features, the whole package.
Years of yoga have sculpted her body into something out of a fantasy—those curves like ripe peaches, impossible to ignore.
I walked in that day to find her following a yoga tutorial on TV. Those pink leggings clung to her toned legs, highlighting every inch of her slim waist. With every move, her full chest bounced just enough to drive me wild. But it was that perfect backside of hers—round, firm, begging to be touched—that really got me. The fabric was so tight I could almost see the outline of her—
Well. You get the idea.
Even after all this time, the sight of her like this still lit a fire in me.
The TV was loud, her back turned—she didn't hear me come in. I smirked, tossing my coat aside and closing the distance in three strides.
"Ethan!" She gasped as I grabbed her, then melted when she saw it was me. Noticing my damp hair, she grabbed a towel, fussing. "You walked home in the rain? You'll get sick!"
"Higher fares when it's pouring," I murmured before crushing my mouth to hers. My hands roamed, gripping those hips like I owned them—because I did.
She laughed, squirming. "Stop! We haven't even eaten yet."
"Food can wait." I yanked those leggings down and took her right there.
And God, did she respond. Yoga made her flexible in all the best ways, and she never held back—one of the million reasons I couldn't get enough of her.
We made it from the living room to the kitchen, then the balcony (after a quick curtain draw), and finally the bed, only pausing for a shower that turned into round two.
After, I leaned against the headboard, lighting a cigarette while she curled against me, cheeks still flushed.
She smacked my chest. "You're awful. Sophie and her husband will be here any minute—they'll know exactly what we just did."
Sophia Valentine—Lillian's best friend and a powerhouse real estate agent.
"Change clothes. They'll never guess," I teased.
She huffed, slipping into a fresh outfit right in front of me—white blouse, short skirt, black stockings. Office chic with a side of sin. My hands slid around her waist before she could step away.
"You're impossible!" She swatted me but turned serious. "Listen… Sophie's agency is hiring. I want to work. It'd help you."
Lillian hadn't worked since we married.
I frowned. "Real estate? You've got no experience. The pay's all over the place."
"Sophie will train me. Please? Watching you kill yourself kills me. Even a few grand a month helps. It's not hard—just showing houses." She gave me those big, pleading eyes.
"We'll talk when they get here," I hedged. Truth? I'd rather work triple shifts than see her stressed.
The doorbell rang.
Sophia and her husband had arrived.
Where Lillian was sweet elegance, Sophia was pure fire—sharp, stylish, with a mouth that could make a sailor blush. Gorgeous, with legs that didn't quit—even Lillian envied her statuesque frame, especially when she strutted in stockings.