Page 109 of Broken Vows

We’ve only lived in this place for a few months, and I’m still getting used to having stairs inside our home. Inside! Do Theo and I really need to live in a four thousand square foot apartment overlooking the most beautiful lower Manhattan skyline? No. It’s over the top, totally gluttonous, and completely impractical.

And also, really fucking amazing.

The place is a little closer to my mom, too, who flat-out refused our offer to buy her a new place. She said her home holds too many memories, and she loves her community. She did, however, agree to let us upgrade all her home furnishings and appliances, and didn’t need convincing to take us up on our offer to support her so she could finally retire.

Now, if I could only reclaim my title as her favorite child, that’d be great. I blame The Bachelorette for being my mom’s weakness and the one advantage Theo has over me, which they insist on watching together every week.

Whatever.

“Lex?” Theo calls again, more urgently.

“I’m upstairs,” I call back, biting back a smile.

“Working or studying?”

“Working,” I lie.

It’s a fair question. Ever since I enrolled in business school in the fall, my evenings have been split between work or studying. I’m only taking a few credits this semester, but once we hire more staff at Shades of White, I plan to increase my course load to part-time. Even though I don’t technically need to work, as Theo has reminded me more than once, the thought of not going to the office anymore broke my heart. And now, with my promotion to lead coordinator, I’m happier at work than I’ve ever been.

And… insanely busy.

Last year, the Barlowe/Astor wedding fiasco exploded across New York gossip sites, spreading like wildfire through blogs, articles, endless reels. Once word got out about how brilliantly the owner of the wedding planning company handled the fallout, Sydney was flooded with dozens of interview requests. Within the next week, it seemed like everyone, and anyone, wanted to work with her. Shades of White no longer needed to close its doors, but instead was able to double its staff to keep with the surge in business.

Which was the best news for everyone… except my deeply neglected husband.

The sounds of Theo jogging up the stairs and walking down the hall sends an excited thrill through me. I lick my lips in anticipation, barely breathing as our bedroom door creaks open. When Theo steps inside, he freezes. His heated, hungry gaze slides down me, inch by glorious inch. “Fuck, baby…” he says under his breath.

A blush springs to my cheeks. “You like?”

His hooded eyes darken as he takes in the way I’m leaning into the bathroom door in nothing but my thigh-high shiny leather boots, his stethoscope slung over my neck, and his white doctor jacket. I’ve stuffed my hands in the pockets to bring the fabric together, covering his favorite part of me just enough.

“I fucking love.”

He storms over, but I step back, feeling the stiff fabric of the jacket lapels graze my nipples as I do. “Not so fast,” I say and his stormy, dark eyes narrow. “What do you say?”

The muscle in his jaw tenses. “Please.”

Christ, that one word fills my core with so much heat, I don’t know how long I’ll be able to hold out. “Again.”

He drags a hand over his mouth and exhales a rattled breath. “Please.”

Tingles spread through me from his look alone, and the dull ache in my pussy intensifies. I curl my finger to motion him forward. Even though he looks like a caged cheetah ready to pounce, my very obedient husband stops when I put up my hand.

My mouth waters as I take in the outline of his cock hardening in his jeans, the way his chest strains against his shirt, the crimson deepening in his neck veins. “First,” I say as I lick my lips. “I’d like to know what you intend to do to me.”

A devious grin shadows his face. “Oh, baby girl,” he says with a low, raspy growl. “Are you sure you can handle what I have in mind?” He grips the jacket lapel. My breath catches and I stumble forward a few inches. He slowly drags his hands down, excruciatingly slowly, as his knuckles brush my nipples. A warmth rushes through me. My nipples tighten, anticipating his mouth. He lifts the stethoscope to my ears and presses in the earpiece. “I want you to listen to how my touch makes you feel.”

When he presses the cool scope diaphragm to my warm chest, a shiver runs through me. Da dum. Da dum. Da dum. His fingertips brush my hair over my shoulder, and he presses his lips against my neck.

“Now, listen to how it beats when I do this,” he says as he trails kisses on my jaw, right below my ear, and along my collarbone.

Da dum. Da dum. Da dum. My eyes flutter closed. “Mmmmm…”

“Now,” he says with his warm mouth still skimming my neck, “what does it sound like when I reach that beautiful ass of yours?” His hand slides down the outside of the jacket until he reaches bare skin.

The single graze makes my pulse increase, and a thudding floods my eardrums.

“What about when I do this?” He grabs a solid chunk of my ass, and the rough, possessive grip makes my heartbeat thunder. “Or this…” He reaches in between my warm, tingling thighs. When his fingertips slide over my slickness, the thudding coming through the stethoscope grows feverish. “That’s my beautiful wife… do you have any idea how much I love to feel how you’re ready for me?”