“I don’t think it’s going to be that quick this time.”
The way she says this makes me chuckle. She sounds pained about it. “What’s running through that mind of yours?”
She lifts her head and looks at me. “Honestly, don’t you feel like you’ve been hit by a truck and it’s going to take a year to recover?”
“I didn’t just give birth to a baby.”
“No, but you’ve been doing all the hard yards for days while I’ve been sleeping. I mean, I’ve had a lot of sleep and I still feel like I could have another straight year of it.”
“And you want me to go back to work tomorrow.”
She pulls a face. “Right. Totally shot myself in the foot there, didn’t I?”
I press a kiss to her forehead. “Go to sleep.”
She doesn’t put her head back down. Instead, she reaches out and traces the lines around my eye. “I love you so much that sometimes it feels overwhelming. Thank you for loving me like you do.”
I move so I can kiss her. When I’m finished with her lips, I say, “Fuck, I’ve missed that.”
She presses her hand to my face. “Me too. Promise me you’ll do that every day, more than once. Even if I take a year to have sex with you because I’m sleeping.”
“You worry too fuckin’ much about this shit. If you take a year to have sex, you take a fuckin’ year. I’ll be here waiting.”
“And that is why I love you so much. I’m actually not worried, though. You’ve told me this enough, so now I believe you. I just need you to know you might be in for a dry spell.”
“I can handle a dry spell.” I kiss her again. “Now stop fuckin’ talking and go to sleep. We’re running out of time here.”
She finally puts her head down on my shoulder and snuggles in close. The last thing I think about before sleep claims me is how much I love her. I’d stick out a long fucking dry spell for her, so long as she kept loving me through it, because Harlow’s love is all I need in life to get me through.
9
GUNNAR & CHELSEA
GUNNAR
This is a bonus scene that takes place a year after their book.
“Stop looking at me like that or we’re not going to make it through this game,” Chelsea says. We’re in the middle of a game of Monopoly and she’s right; we’re not gonna fucking make it through.
“If you’d stop fucking wearing dresses that barely cover your ass, we’d have half a fucking chance at finishing a game.”
“I can go change.”
“Don’t you fucking dare.”
“Well I’m going to if you don’t drag your eyes to the board and have your go.”
I give her what she wants. For now. In ten minutes it might be another fucking story.
I land on Fleet Street, and since Chelsea owns it, I hand over what I owe.
“Stop looking like you’ve already fucking won,” I say.
She grins. “We both know I’m gonna win.”
She’s sitting on the couch next to me, and I can’t fucking help myself; I twist and move over her, taking her down onto her back as I go. Grinding my dick against her, I growl, “If we both fucking know that, we may as well fucking stop playing now.”
Her hands come to my neck as heat flares in her eyes. “What would we do all night, though?”
