Page 176 of Carnal Wagers

“Listen. Every achievement I made, she was there. Every difficult moment I had, she supported me through it. All my ups and downs. She has been my cheerleader, and I hers. No matter how busy or where we were, we were there for each other. When no one else listened, I always knew I had her.” Alizé stroked my beard, and her nails scraped my skin. “Maeve has hated you for so long because of how I felt. That needs to change. She is my best friend in the whole world, the sister I never had, and you’re my dearest husband. You”—she poked her finger into my chest—“and her need to get along. So, be nice and get to know her.”

“Oh, now I know you’re serious. You’ve stopped using contractions.”

“This is not funny.”

She swatted playfully at me. I caught her palm and pressed a lewd kiss to it.

“Don’t worry. I’ll behave.”

“You better.”

My phone rang against the vanity top. Since I’d long ago finished rinsing off, I wrapped a towel around my waist and walked out to answer.

As I hung up, Alizé finished shampooing her hair. Suds slid down her body on the same trail I imagined my tongue taking. Despite her imminent guest, my cock tented the towel. I gave it a few strokes, then squeezed it to curb the desire with pain.

“Might want to hurry. Your friend’s on her way up.”

She shrieked and coughed up water. “What? What time is it?”

“Too fucking early, that’s what.”

“Merde. Okay. No big deal.”

Over the last month and a half of living together, she had never showered so quickly. What was normally an eight-product wash-and-care routine—like hell I knew what for—she cut down to three. By the time I was dressed and the doorbell rang with a text from Arthur and Big Charlie with photo confirmation of our guest, Alizé was up and out of the shower. One towel was turbaned in her hair, the other wrapped and somehow knotted above her breasts.

“I’ll get it.” She hustled away, clutching her towels in place.

As they greeted each other with squeals and lively exchanges, I checked the time on my phone and gritted my teeth. Nine a.m. Three hours ahead of schedule. I didn’t know the woman yet, but with this load of bollocks, she was already sliding herself into my bad books.

I braced myself against the vanity, staring at my reflection in the mirror, and steeled myself for whatever the next few hours entailed. I reworked my scowl over and over until it softened enough to please my wife. Honestly, it was the best I could do for someone who didn’t respect punctuality. With a guttural sigh, I shoved away from the vanity and pocketed my favorite knife.

Chapter 44

“You’re sure I don’t need to talk to him?” my wife asked from the kitchen as I crossed through our bedroom. “If Erel hurt you, I swear I’ll—”

“He didn’t. I’m fine, I swear.” Even the plummy edge to Maeve’s Bostonian accent irked me. “I was just…worried about you.”

“Oh, ma belle. There’s no need, but you’re always welcome here.”

“Who’s welcome?” I asked, because I sure as hell didn’t want this woman showing up at my condo at any hour of the day.

I walked in on the two of them hugging at the edge of my kitchen. From the way the strawberry blonde clung to Alizé, you’d think she was the one who went through the traumatic experience, not my wife. She grimaced at me over my wife’s shoulder, hazel-blue eyes on the attack, her grip tightening around Alizé’s shoulders. I groaned internally. This was going to be an experience.

“Whoa, eh, I need to breathe.” Alizé extracted herself from her demanding friend.

Now it was my turn, and I swept my woman into a kiss that made it clear exactly who she belonged to. It wasn’t the gremlin in paint-covered overalls over a crop-top, who had her hair rolled up inside an upside-down bandana, lips fire-hydrant red. It was hard to believe the woman owned a construction company, looking like she’d popped straight out of a 1950s TV show.

“Oh, wonderful, you’re here. Let’s make introductions.”

The friend gave a tight wave, no handshake in sight. “Maeve Hackett.”

I returned the gesture. “Cillian O’Leary.”

“I know,” the woman snubbed, her mouth pursed in distaste.

My teeth ground together.

Alizé rose on her tiptoes and kissed the edge of my jaw. “I made you coffee.”