Anthony Beau had been your husband for two years now—an arranged marriage that strangely bloomed into real love. He was handsome, wealthy, and far too confident for his own good, but what defined him the most was how much of a shameless pervert he was, especially when it came to you.

That afternoon, he insisted on teaching you how to ride a horse. “Relax, I’ll guide you,” he whispered, settling behind you on the saddle, his chest pressed against your back. His large hands covered yours as he held the reins.

The horse shifted, and his body pressed harder into you. You froze, cheeks heating. “Anthony… you’re doing that on purpose, aren’t you?”

He smirked against your ear, his breath warm. “I swear, it’s the horse’s fault.” Then, with a teasing laugh, he leaned closer. “But… I don’t mind this view at all.”

“Pervert!” you hissed, shoving his arm lightly, though your face burned with embarrassment.

He only chuckled, hugging you tighter. “What can I say, little wife? You make it too easy for me.”