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I’m sucking in air as I wrap my hand around his. “It doesn’t freakyouout?”
“No.”
“I wish I was as confident and assertive as you.”
“You are, baby girl. You’re strong. If anyone tells you otherwise, I’ll fuck them up.”
I can’t help but smile at that. “Does that mean you’re my personal caregiver as well?”
“Isn’t that a given?”
“Like my guardian?”
“Like your fucking husband, Gwyneth.”
I bite my lower lip, then release it. “Okay.”
“Okay?”
“Yeah, okay.”
“Promise?”
I smile again. For someone who has asshole genes, he can be nice. “Promise. Now, let’s go home.”
“I have better plans.”
My heart skips a beat because Nate rarely has plans for us. Yes, we live together, cook and eat and fuck and sleep and fuck again together, but that’s all in the cocoon of the house.
And I don’t dare think that he’ll take me out. Otherwise, we’ll get caught.
But he has plans now.
“What type of plans?”
“I’m going to sweep you away, wife.”
28
Gwyneth
Nate takes me to the middle of nowhere.
Well, not literally, but close to it. We’re heading to a cozy cottage Nate owns that’s situated on a mountain out of state. We drove for an hour to get here and now, we’re having to hike for the rest of the way, something I’ve been grumbling about for half an hour.
Even though both of us are wearing hiking clothes and boots, every step feels like torture. I’m not good with physical activities, okay?
Nate must know that, too, because he sighs, picks me up, and carries me on his back. All discomfort is forgotten and I release a small squeal as my body plasters itself to his. I’ll always be in awe at the ease with which he holds me, as if I weigh nothing.
“I feel like such a princess,” I speak against his ear, eliciting a muscle jump in his jaw.
“You do, huh?”
“Look at me having someone to carry me. Am I lucky or what?” I rub my breasts against his back.
He tightens his hold on my leg. “Stop it.”
“Stop what?” I feign nonchalance.
