Page 55 of Unruly

Catherine sighed, and tucked the tablet into the purse hanging off the chair. “What lesson is this going to teach me, huh? What is she trying to achieve by blocking me out?”

Cross answered before he could think better of it, saying, “She’s trying to make you respect the work she does, and the position she has. She doesn’t think you understand where she comes from, or the effort she’s put into this, Catherine. She thinks you behave as though you’re entitled to question her because of who you are. I’m not very sorry to say this, but you’re not. That’s all.”

His wife stared at him for a long while. Neither of them spoke. He didn’t need her to speak to know she was probably pissed that he called her out on things she wasn’t ready to face.

Cross had learned over the years to curb his blunt honesty when the time called for it. Sometimes, things needed a careful approach.

Not his wife, though.

For her, Cross didn’t sugarcoat shit.

Catherine let out a slow breath, still watching him in that way of hers. “I crossed a line with my mother, didn’t I?”

“Yeah, you did, Catty. I’m not sure if you crossed it as much as jumped over it, really.”

“And now she’s …”

“Teaching you a lesson you probably need to learn.”

In a shitty way, sure, but Catherine would likely come out better for it.

Catherine’s shoulders slumped a bit. Cross couldn’t have that tonight. He didn’t want her feeling down, not after being gone for two weeks. He had a feeling he was only going to get a few days with her before work consumed her again, anyway.

Leaning close enough to kiss his wife’s bare shoulder, Cross did just that. Then, he sunk his teeth playfully into the same spot. Catherine shot him a curious look, but he only kissed her skin again.

“No more of that,” he told her. “No frowning or sulking. Not tonight.”

“Cross—”

“You heard me, Catty.”

“You are impossible.”

“Smile, babe.”

She did, but he wanted more.

He always wanted more.

“Not good enough,” Cross murmured, tipping his head up to catch his wife’s lips in a kiss. Slow, and lingering. A familiar war that had his cock hardening beneath his dress pants. Under the table, his hand snaked higher on Catherine’s thigh. Between her legs, below the skirt of her dress, until damp lace met his fingers. “How are you wet already?”

“Because I have no self-control.”

“Clearly.”

Cross kissed Catherine’s mouth again as his fingers skimmed under her panties, and two sunk into her sex. Despite her gaze that darted to the side, likely checking to see if someone was watching or coming to interrupt them, he felt her legs widen under the table. The tablecloth was long enough to skirt the floor.

No one was coming to bother them.

He made that clear to the waiter when they sat down. Their glasses were filled, menus given, and they were not to be interrupted until the table was filled with the rest of their guests. He owned the place, so the employees tended to listen to his directions.

“We are in a restaurant,” Catherine said softly.

Airless, really.

Hot.

Damn sexy.