Total pages in book: 127
Estimated words: 122506 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 613(@200wpm)___ 490(@250wpm)___ 408(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 122506 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 613(@200wpm)___ 490(@250wpm)___ 408(@300wpm)
“I’m sure we’ll both learn to live with it.”
I press my lips to her temples, not quite a kiss, as I loosen my hold. “I guess we’ll just go with your second choice. Thundercock it is.”
Laughter bursts from her mouth in an echo of the woman from last night, blissfully unrestrained. There were quiet moments too—things she said that I know she’d hate to hear me repeat.
She loosens a long sigh and gives her head a long-suffering kind of shake. “You’re like the dildo of my life’s consequences.”
“At least you don’t need lube.”
“Oh, Sarai!” She lifts her arm and begins pulling from mine. I ignore the instinct to tighten my hold—to haul her in the opposite direction. “Sarai! Over here?”
I can’t say I’ve ever been less pleased to see the kid as, on the path up ahead, Sarai’s expression lightens. She breaks from her companion with a murmured word.
“What up, lovebirds?” She swaggers toward us, her gait at odds with her traditional-looking uniform. She pinches in a mischievous grin, and as her gaze slides my way, she winks.
I give a tiny shake of my head. None of that, now.
“What’s up?” Mila briefly folds her arms around herself. “What’s up is that I can barely remember a thing about yesterday.”
Sarai’s brows lift. “I’m jealous.”
“What?”
“I mean . . .” Thoughts practically flit across her face, and I feel a slight twinge of panic at where she might take this. “I’ve heard of passing out from experiencing an intense O, but not forgetting the whole night.”
For a minute, I think she might be about to reach out for a fist bump. Un-fucking-subtle, Sarai.
“What? No!” Mila protests. “We haven’t—that is to say, we didn’t . . .”
“Really?” Sarai somehow manages to make her tone sound like a singular raised eyebrow.
“I said you were convincing.” I clasp my fingers over Mila’s tense shoulder, and her eyes dart my way.
“Oh, that. Yes, I suppose I did try my best to look like I was into it. I-into you.”
Sarai snorts.
Look like she was into it? I have four condom wrappers, several sucking hickeys, a set of teeth marks, and abs that ache like a motherfucker that say otherwise. That’s without the memories seared into the lining of my brain and the fact that I seriously considered icing my dick this morning.
“I was just playing up to my role, right?”
Poor Mila. She’d never be a contender for an Oscar. I give the tight muscles in her shoulder another squeeze. This time, she relaxes into it.
“Huh.” Sarai makes a quizzical noise as she tilts her head, adopting a pondering pose. “So were you just tired on your way back to the suite? You know, when you stopped at the janitor’s closet. Did you need to catch a few z’s?”
“I was just . . . Sorry, I did what?”
“I mean, there must be a reason you asked me to get the keys.” Sarai turns to me, her tone just leaking with satisfaction.
“I asked for the keys?” Mila’s gaze darts my way for confirmation.
I give an apologetic shrug. There was no stopping her—she practically dragged me in behind her. Practically. “You said you wanted to re-create our first meeting.”
“I thought it was cute.”
“Yes,” Mila sort of squeaks. “I suppose it might’ve been, but you didn’t need to—”
“‘Please, please, please, Sarai!’” Sarai intones, impersonating Mary Poppins. “‘I just want to make out with my gorgeous hubs in the cupboard again.’”
“Quit being a smart-ass.” I tighten my fingers in reassurance again. “She’s just messing with you.”
Poor Mila glances between us as though she doesn’t know which of us to believe. The answer is me, obviously, even if Sarai is essentially telling the truth.
“I knew you’d met before,” Sarai crows. “Straight facts—I could see it in the way you were eye screwin’ each other from the get-go.”
“Look.” Mila holds up her hands like she’s trying to keep everything away. Sarai’s words, the realities of last night, our marital situation. “I don’t know what I did last night. I mean, I know some things,” she adds as her shoulders begin to creep up to her ears, “but not everything—and Fin says the same! Sort of.”
“Really?” Sarai slides me a skeptical look.
I give my head a tiny shake. I guess this is more a case of what Mila would like to believe.
“And that’s what we wanted to talk to you about,” my wife adds. Wife. I do like that.
“You had the time of your life. Lives,” Sarai corrects with another hesitant glance my way.
“It’s just that—”
“Especially when you did the Dirty Dancing lift and Fin held you over his head.”
“He did what?”
“Knock that off,” I say, though it’s more a low chuckle than a warning.
“Did we really?” Mila asks in a faint voice.
“What’s a wedding without a little foolishness,” I answer, actively rubbing her back now.
And she lets me. In for a dime, in for a dollar, I pull her to my side. And she just fits, like my body was made to accommodate her right there.