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She tilts her head, and amusement overpowers her expression.
A burst of happiness pops inside me just from seeing her smile.
"Don't deny it, Riggs. I know you don't like it."
I shake my head, declaring, "No, it's not that I don't like it. I mean, there are other things out there that sometimes I prefer to do, but you love it, and I'd really like to take you there today."
Tense silence builds between us. She is correct. I don't love the market, but I do love the way her expression lights up as she walks around the little booths, picking up crafts and other silly things that sometimes have no purpose. Her ability to see beauty in those things always surprises me. And it's something I admire in her. So I'll give anything to put that expression on her face today.
Her continued silence only deepens my fears. I'm afraid she's going to say no, so I try to sweeten the deal by adding, "The puppies will be there. You can get one if you want."
She jerks her head backward.
"What's wrong?" I ask.
She tilts her head and narrows her eyebrows. She replies, "I thought you didn't want the responsibility of a dog. Remember the big lecture you gave me?"
I groan inside and then shrug, asking, "Do you still want one? If you do, we can get one."
Her face falls. "You weren't wrong. I'm touring a lot. It's probably not the best time to get a pet."
My stomach spins. I hate how she's touring and I'm not with her. Plus, it still burns me that she fired me.
I question why everything feels so hard now when it used to be so easy between us. Yet no answers come.
She states, "I'm not sure how hungry I am."
I'm normally not a quitter, but right now, I don't know if I should push her to come with me or not. I finally decide it's best not to, so I step back and announce, "Okay, I'll just go order groceries so we have some food when you are hungry."
I take a few steps toward the kitchen, and she grabs my arm, calling out, "Riggs."
My heart beats harder, pounding against my chest cavity. Tingles burst under her hand, rushing straight to my cock. I freeze, take a deep breath, and turn. I softly ask, "Yeah?"
She hesitates, then inquires, "Can you give me a half hour so I can get ready?"
Excitement fills me. I mentally give myself a high five and try to remain calm. I nod. "Sure, take as much time as you need."
"I'll be out soon," she says, then goes back inside the room.
I hustle down the hallway into our bedroom and go into my closet. I put on a pair of khaki shorts and a white designer T-shirt, then slide into my sandals. Then I go into the office and open the safe.
I remove my keys and phone. I make an online reservation for breakfast at the cafe, and a notification pops up. My pulse skyrockets as I read it.
Club Indulgence: Your video is on the cloud.
I stare at the message for too many minutes, but I can't stop myself. It's too much temptation. I click on the link provided in the notification, and videos pop up.
Multiple screens show Blakely kneeling on stage last night in her silver thong and stilettos. Her platinum collar gleams from around her neck, and each screen shows a different angle of my precious pet.
I'm like a kid in a candy store, unable to decide which shot I like best, so I continue surveying all of them until it comes to the moment when she's lying on the bench. Once her arms are restrained as far out in front of her as possible, I choose the screen position directly on her so I'm staring at her face.
"Ready?" Blakely chirps, bouncing into the room.
I tear my eyes off the video. "Yeah." I shut the footage down, then slide my phone into my pocket.
She scrunches her face, "Is something wrong?"
I step toward her and assure her, "No."
