Total pages in book: 75
Estimated words: 71832 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 359(@200wpm)___ 287(@250wpm)___ 239(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 71832 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 359(@200wpm)___ 287(@250wpm)___ 239(@300wpm)
She walked out toward the bedroom, then sat by the edge of the bed, her tail flicking back and forth as she watched me approach.
I climbed into the bed and stretched out as I reached toward the nightstand for the latest Stephen King novel.
“I swear, days like this,” Langley cursed as she came out of her closet, wearing a short, silk slip. Or something. Whatever it was, it barely skimmed her ass, and the teal color made her skin look like cream. The cut did wonders for her curves and instantly had me hard. I was getting used to being constantly in pain around my wife, but damn if I wasn’t ready for her to give me some kind of sign that she cared about me.
“What happened now?” I asked, thumbing through the book until I found the bookmark Tage made me when he was eight. Thank God for lamination or the thing never would have lasted this long. I missed him. Yeah, texts and calls were fine, and I understood that this was part of the process of growing up, but I missed my little brother more than anything—or anyone—else I’d left behind.
“Did you know that Silas wants me to head up some kind of charitable foundation for the Reapers?” she asked, running a brush through her hair.
“You never told me that,” I said, recognizing her state of agitation, and remarking my page.
“I told him there was no chance. I have zero time for that. He needs to hire some sweet little southern girl who knows her way around southern money and donors because I have my hands full with you guys.” She pointed her brush at me like I was personally one of the guys making her work overtime. We’d been home from Seattle for twenty-four hours and I’d barely seen her.
“Hey, I’m a PR dream,” I said, putting my book on the nightstand.
Hufflepuff leaped, landing at my feet and immediately curling up against my knee.
“Don’t let her do that,” Langley chided. “She has her own bed.”
I scratched the tabby behind her ears and was rewarded with a purr. “I try not to piss off the women in this house. Women anywhere, really.”
She cocked her head to the side and blinked.
“What?”
“How many women have there been?”
Oh shit, so we were doing this. Okay. “In what context?”
Her eyebrows rose.
“Right.” I cleared my throat and sat up fully. “There have been a few, but no one since you showed up in Sweden.”
“A few,” she said slowly. “Right.” She disappeared into the bathroom, and I heard the faucet running as she brushed her teeth. “Don’t look at me like that,” I said to my furry, judgmental bed partner.
The faucet stopped, and she reappeared in the doorway shortly after. She did not look like she was going to let this go. “Any models? You look like the kind of guy who would date models.”
My jaw flexed. “A few.”
“Anyone I know?” She crossed her arms under her breasts.
“You might have run across one or two of them during Lukas’s launch,” I admitted.
“Well, that’s just…” She nodded. “I bet you slept with them,” I swore I heard her mutter under her breath.
“Langley, get in bed,” I ordered softly as she started to pace at the end of our way-too-spindly bed. This thing was a disaster waiting to happen.
She pouted, but she slid in next to me. When Hufflepuff didn’t move over, Langley scoffed. “Traitor.”
I laughed and grabbed my wife by her waist, then flipped to my side, tucking her against me as Hufflepuff jumped to the floor. “Min enda kärlek, no one meant anything in the past. I was busy raising Tage. They never came to my house, never lasted more than a few months, and never had my last name.”
She sighed. “I don’t know why I asked,” she said softly, trailing her hand over mine.
“Because you have every right to know who I’ve shared my body with,” I told her. “I have nothing to hide, Langley. I just wasn’t as...discerning as I should have been back then.”
“You won’t even sleep with your own wife,” she groaned. “I’d say you’ve become more than discerning.” She turned in my arms so she faced me. “If I didn’t constantly feel how badly you want me,” she wiggled her hips right over my distended boxer briefs, “I might think you weren’t interested.”
“I’m interested,” I assured her, my eyes losing all trace of amusement. “I want nothing more than to slide that silk up your body and replace it with my mouth. You have absolutely no clue how crazy you’ve driven me over the last couple of months.”
Her deep brown eyes searched mine as her hands rested on my bare chest. “Then why?”
I put my hand over her heart. “Because I’m more interested in this than I am what’s under this confection you call a nightgown.”