Total pages in book: 100
Estimated words: 96513 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 483(@200wpm)___ 386(@250wpm)___ 322(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 96513 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 483(@200wpm)___ 386(@250wpm)___ 322(@300wpm)
I frowned and pulled out my phone. I just realized that I hadn’t looked at it in hours. Hours and hours. I hadn’t taken a single picture the whole time. We’d had a photographer set up for the kids. I’d been in a few of those, but nothing on my phone. Nothing for myself.
“I… forgot actually,” I said, momentarily stunned.
He pressed a kiss to my forehead. “Exactly. You’re doing good work. Work that you’re passionate about. I’m glad that I got to see it.”
My heart constricted at the words. I might be falling in love with my husband.
28
Camden
“What the hell are you wearing?” Katherine asked as I headed down the stairs to the living room.
I stopped at the bottom and took in her outfit. A skirt so micro short that her ass nearly hung out of the bottom and a slinky gold halter top that was completely open in the back, except for a tiny string holding it up. She wore six-inch stilettos and enough makeup to completely transform her face. Even her hair had been done up in sexy supermodel curls. She looked like a knockout.
“What am I wearing? What are you wearing?”
“I’m in my divorce party outfit,” she said, gesturing to her skirt. “All of us girls are dressing up super slutty and getting wasted since English’s divorce was official last night.”
I strode over to my wife and pulled her against me. “You’re practically naked.”
“So?”
I tugged on the string that held her shirt up. She gasped, but I’d already slid underneath it and cupped her breasts. Her gasp turned into a moan.
“Camden,” she muttered, “I… I have to go soon.”
“I can be quick,” I told her.
Her heart hammered in her chest. I could feel the pulse pick up under my touch. But then she stepped back with a gulp. Her pupils dilated as she retied the string.
“Next time,” she assured me.
I sighed. I had known that she would turn me down. She was supposed to take the limo to pick up the girls any minute. But I liked seeing the reaction I could get out of her. So easy. So wanton. Fuck.
“Now… tell me about this outfit,” she said. Her gaze traveled down my body, lingering for a second too long on my erection.
“It’s just an outfit.”
“You’re wearing jeans. I didn’t even think you owned jeans.”
“Everyone owns jeans, Katherine.”
“I’ve never seen you wear them.”
I shrugged and adjusted myself. My cock was still growing at the sight of her. I was envisioning bending her over the arm of the sofa and fucking her, and I couldn’t get the thought out of my mind.
“This is a T-shirt,” she added.
“Yes. You’ve seen me dress down before.”
She shook her head. “But that was in Puerto Rico and the Maldives or, like, at night. Not when you’re going out. Where are you going anyway?”
“Just going to go get a drink since you’re going to be out in that fucking outfit all night. If I stay here, I’ll jack off, thinking about you.”
She flushed, and a teasing smile lit her cherry-red lips. “Oh, yeah?”
“Do you like the idea of me touching myself when I think about you?”
I bridged that gap again and slid one hand up her inner thigh. The skirt was so short that I met the edge of her lace panties almost immediately. She shivered at my touch.
“Maybe I do.”
“We still have time for me to fuck you.”
A small huff left her lips, and then she reluctantly stepped back. “I’m already late. Fuck.”
“Later then,” I told her. She nodded. Her eyes were glazed with desire. “Where will you all be?”
“We’re going to bar hop. I think we’ll start at Sparks and end at Club 360.”
I pointed upward. “You’re ending at the club on top of Percy Tower?”
She shrugged. “I thought it would be easiest for me. Plus, it really lights up at around two in the morning.”
“Find me after,” I told her.
“Oh, I will,” she said, placing one kiss to my lips and then darting for the elevator.
I adjusted my jeans again. I really didn’t wear them very often. Only when I was going to Hank’s, but I wasn’t ready to tell her about Hank’s. Soon but not quite yet.
I headed downstairs and took the Mercedes out of the Upper East Side. It was forty-five minutes before I made it to Hank’s. The traffic was horrid as everyone drove through the city on Saturday evening. Normally, I only came to the bar on weekdays. I remembered why.
The bar was packed. Twice as many people than the last time I was here. It was likely because it was a Saturday night but also because the weather was unusually mild for an evening at the end of January. As if some of the ice had thawed. Though I suspected it was only a matter of time before the chill returned. Our winters rarely disappointed.