“How was your visit with Simon?” I ask, picking up the remote and turning the TV on to appear chill.
From the corner of my eye, I see her slowly lower the tablet and smirk at me. “How was my visit?”
I nod.
“That’s a pretty formal way to ask a simple question.”
“Is it?”
“Yes. You had your face between my legs not eight hours ago. Usually people on that comfort level would just ask, “What did your brother want today, or how’s your brother?”
I pause to think of a response. Is it weird that she’s questioning the way I stated my question? Hell, is she avoiding answering because he did, in fact, say something regarding our relationship and she doesn’t want to tell me? I’m a big boy. She can tell me. Then when she’s done, I’ll drive myself to Simon’s house and tell him all the ways that he’s wrong.
I rephrase the question to move things along.
“What did your brother say today when he stopped by?” I ask and then shoot her a wink.
She giggles. “Nothing much.”
“Oh.”
Sweet. Good talk.
“He wanted to see if you and I have something going on,” she adds nonchalantly.
I knew it!
“What did you say?”
“The truth.”
“The whole truth?” I squeak out and sit up taller. “Like, all of it?”
She rolls her eyes, sets her iPad down, and curls into my side. “I left out all the sex we’ve been having and how you can’t go a day without going down on me or how much I love to cup your—”
“I get it,” I say and pinch her side. She squirms, so I take the chance to flip her on her back and then settle on top of her, nudging her knees apart with my own. “Did you tell him that we’re married?”
Her nose wrinkles. “I may have left that part out too.”
“Ah, so you only told him what he needed to know.”
“Precisely.”
I kiss her forehead.
“Are we done talking about my brother?”
Instead of waiting for an answer, she slips her hand into my sweats and wraps her fingers around me. I close my eyes as I let out a hiss. She’s touched me more times than I can count in the last three weeks, and yet every time is like it’s my first hit of a new drug. It’s a feeling I never want to end.
I lower my hips to grind against her, which incentivizes her to remove her shirt and shimmy off her purple and white polka dot pajama shorts.
My favorite pajamas of hers.
Stripping my clothes happens just as quickly, and before we can get too carried away, we dash into the bedroom.
We make love and we cuddle, but even as I hold her in my arms while she falls asleep, something feels off.
CHAPTER THIRTY
