Total pages in book: 167
Estimated words: 157175 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 786(@200wpm)___ 629(@250wpm)___ 524(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 157175 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 786(@200wpm)___ 629(@250wpm)___ 524(@300wpm)
‘I’m out,’ Elizabeth declares. ‘Bridge and cocktails.’
Fuck it. ‘Okay, have a lovely time.’ I hang up and beat the marble worktop with my fingertips, thinking. ‘Ah!’ I quickly dial John. ‘Hey, big man,’ I chirp down the line.
‘No.’ His gruff, flat reply has me frowning.
‘What?’
‘It’s Raya’s hen night. No, I won’t watch the kids so you can stalk your wife.’
I snarl. ‘Some friend you are.’
‘Fuck you. Have you heard from Sarah?’
My mood plummets further. ‘No, why? Should I have?’
‘Just checking. I’m hoping she’s gonna fuck off soon, because, frankly, I’m sick of looking at her miserable face.’
I flinch on Sarah’s behalf. ‘Tell her to go, John.’
‘I can’t do it. I’ve fucking tried, but your damn uncle Carmichael is in my ear like an annoying fucking gnat, telling me to do right by her or he’ll haunt my motherfucking arse.’
I smile a little, but I’m mad, too. ‘You owe her nothing. Uncle Carmichael owes her nothing.’
‘Tell that to a dead man,’ he grunts, hanging up.
I fall into thought, going back to my past briefly. Then I catch the kids giving me wary looks. ‘What?’
‘Don’t do it, Dad,’ Maddie sing-songs. ‘She’ll tear your head off and use it as a football.’
‘You’ll regret it,’ Jacob warns.
Scowling at my kids, I march out of the kitchen and head upstairs where Ava’s getting ready. So what am I supposed to do? Sit home all night worrying to death?
I find her in her underwear standing in the mirror. I groan. What’s she trying to do to me? ‘You look lovely,’ I grunt, slumping my arse on the bed.
She looks at me in the reflection, a smile playing at the corners of her nude lips as she tweaks her hair into position. ‘I’m not dressed yet.’
I shrug, pouting like a moody schoolboy. ‘You still look lovely.’
‘You come to mark me?’
I look to the door, hearing the kids in the kitchen downstairs. My scope for marking is limited.
‘What do you think of this?’
I return my eyes to Ava, finding her holding up a little black dress. I just shake my head. Negative. ‘What about this?’ A green thing appears, and once again I reject it. She sighs, sweeping her arm out to the wardrobe. ‘Choose a dress, any dress.’
Good. She’s getting the hang of this. It takes me five seconds flat to find something suitable – a high-necked, long-sleeved, full-length jersey dress. ‘Perfect,’ I declare.
‘I’m not wearing that.’ The dress is snatched from my hand and put back on the rail. She quickly takes another down and goes back to the bedroom. ‘And stop sulking.’
‘You’re not wearing that, either,’ I call, trudging after her. She’s pulling the stupid gold thing on by the time I make it to the bedroom, a salacious grin on her face. ‘Why’d you have to be so damn beautiful?’
My wife is a goddess, and I know every other man on the planet must think so, too. And in that little gold number, she’s a shimmering goddess. Her cheekbones are also shimmering, and her eyes are smoked out, making them smoulder madly. They’re ‘take me to bed’ eyes.
‘Don’t look any man in the eye,’ I tell her, falling to the chair in the corner of our bedroom. I’m slumped. Moody. I can’t help it.
She wanders over and slowly turns, looking over her shoulder at me. With my chin still low, I lift my gaze, dragging it over her exposed back until I reach her eyes. ‘Zip me up?’
‘No,’ I grunt, eliciting a cute twitch of her lips.
‘Please?’ It’s a purr, one that hits my dick and takes it from semi-erect to rock.
‘Why are you doing this to me?’ It’s a serious question. Just look at her. This beauty, still in her prime, glowing before me like some otherworldly creature. I’ve tried to reason with myself all day. Told myself she needs to let her hair down and have some time with her girlfriends. Yet that primal, possessive streak in me has only grown by the hour, and now I’m in two minds whether I’d get away with bolting her to the bed. I ponder that for a second, thoughtful, my head tilting as I weigh up the option. I’d get away with it. There’s nothing she could do to stop me.
‘Don’t even think about it, Ward.’ Her tone is warning. And ignored. I love how she reads my mind.
‘And what will you do about it?’
‘Divorce.’ She points to her back again as my jaw drops. ‘Zip me up.’
‘No.’
‘Fine, I’ll get Kate to do it when she gets here.’ She saunters off, all strut and arse. I’m out of that chair like lightning, and I’ve captured her before she makes it to the door.
‘Jesse!’ she squeals as I throw her over my shoulder and backtrack to the bed. It’s doesn’t escape my notice that her screech of my name was more laughed than angrily yelled. She was prepared for my trample.