Dirty Husband Read online Crystal Kaswell

Categories Genre: Billionaire, Romance Tags Authors: Crystal Kaswell Advertisement1

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He just laughs. Another easy laugh. "That's a low blow."

"Can you reach it? Or do you have back problems? I hear these things happen."

His smile gets knowing. He's only ten years older than I am, but it's enough I can tease him. "Did she pick Rome? Or did you?"

"Marcus."

He nods of course.

"I'm sure there's some bullshit reason."

"You want me to find out?"

For a moment, I consider it. Ian has his ways. Not all of them are legal.

If Jeff and Marcus are planning to spring a visit from that bastard, I need to know.

But that won't happen. Jeff hates him. Jeff hates playing these little games.

"I realize I'm the last guy you'd ask for advice on marriage," Ian says. "But I do know women. And I can tell Jasmine trusts you."

"I'm aware."

"Whatever you're after… maybe she really wants to give it to you."

"You're right. I'm not looking for your advice."

"Go to London after. There's no good tea in Rome." He nods goodbye, turns, leaves.

I guess he's right about that. I can't fill most of Jasmine's needs, but I can make sure she has tea to drink, food to eat, a comfortable place to stay.

I can't do anything for her heart.

But I know how to care for her body.

Chapter Thirty-Six

Jasmine

First class is quite the upgrade. Wide seats. Soft pillows. The friendly skies so many airlines promise.

The flight attendant smiles like she dreams of fulfilling my every desire. She's happy to bring me a sparkling water. My enjoyment of dinner is her only craving. And do I want the ice cream dessert? Vanilla or chocolate? Maybe some coffee or tea to go with it.

She wishes she could be of more help. They only have the one tea. Tea. She understands there are more options out there, but she's not really familiar. In Italy, the culture is all coffee.

It's strange.

Three weeks ago, I was this woman, smiling at strangers, pretending as if I lived to fill their needs.

Don't get me wrong. I like being helpful. I always enjoyed getting things done. Even trivial things, like fetching the Americano at that coffee shop instead of this one. Because God forbid it's not perfect.

But doing it with a smile, pretending as if it was effortless, as if it was truly fulfilling my deepest desires—

That, I didn't like.

That, I don't like.

And this whole trip to Rome…

I'm not really sure what to do here. Shep knows how I feel. He knows I appreciate his help. He knows I resent the imposition.

But that doesn't feel quite right.

Sure, our reasons for flying to Rome are unclear. I wish I was in the know. I wish he trusted me enough to explain this.

But, right now, I don't resent a single thing.

Right now, I'm… happy.

I don't care about the awkwardness of first class or the shitty tea or the vague explanation.

Only that Shep is sitting next to me, his lips in a half-smile, his eyes bright.

He's so handsome.

And I'm so screwed.

Because I really do like him. More.

The speech I gave about how I never stopped loving him—

It's way too true.

But it can't be too bad. Because I do care about this shitty tea. Ugh. It tastes like nothing. "Is this really what passes for tea?"

"Ian says you're out of luck in Italy."

Again, I stick my tongue out. Like I'm sixteen again, complaining about my dad's cooking.

"You can try espresso."

Again, I stick my tongue out. Coffee is a club to the senses. Sure, I appreciate the Vietnamese Iced Coffee Mai serves in her restaurant… if I want something that makes a Frappuccino look subtle. Black coffee… no way.

"Too strong?"

"Way too strong."

"They have milk and sugar."

That is… true. And there's something about his easy tone… it's just right.

All this is so easy. Like we're kids in love. Like our biggest concerns are midterms and what we're wearing to Spring Fling.

His fingers brush mine as he takes the cup. He brings it to his soft lips. Takes a small sip. "It tastes like tea."

I shake my head. "It's an abomination."

"What happened to the oolong"

"I drank it."

"All of them?"

I nod. "The bags are barely better. There's no room for the leaves to breathe."

His smile spreads a little wider. "Is that right?"

"Yes." I reach for a visual aide, but my cup is long gone. The flight attendant took it the second I finished. She's exactly like I used to be. Everywhere and nowhere at once. Only visible when people want to see her.

"I have something for you," he says.

"Is it appropriate?"

Shep's wicked smile lights up his blue eyes. It's that beautiful, dirty I don't know what I'm going to do to you, princess. Then it's more. Something deeper.

Or maybe I'm imagining things. Oxygen deprivation. Tea deprivation. Inability to think because of the proximity of Shep… syndrome. If that's a syndrome.

He's not wearing a suit today. He's in jeans and a navy t-shirt.


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