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My hands shake and my eyes swim as I continue staring at my phone.
I’m about to call Bradford when I see him coming toward me. His strides are purposeful, his expression intent. And those arms of his? They open and pull me in close when he reaches me. They tighten around me. They give me the warmth I’ve been searching for my entire life.
I let my tears fall and bury my face in my husband’s chest while he strokes my back and kisses my hair. While he loves me.
He gives me all the time in the world, simply holding me while I allow my emotions free rein. When I finally lift my face to his, I ask, “What are you doing here? You had meetings this morning.”
He cups the back of my head. “The thing about meetings is they can be held anywhere.”
I glance down the street at his parked car. “You worked here?”
“I did. And you’re right about needing a new car without a center console. It’s quite restrictive.”
I clutch his arms. “You arereckless.”
He wipes my tears. “Only for you.”
This man.
“Thank you,” I breathe before pulling his mouth down to mine and kissing him. When I let him go, I flash him a sexy smile. “I think it really might be time for you to get a new car, especially if you’re going to stalk me around New York during your work hours.”
“I told you to consider it done. Your new car will be here in a month.” His hand curves around my neck and his mouth brushes my ear. “And it was more expensive than your bed, so I hope you know what that means.”
I am never letting this man go.
Not ever, ever,ever.
38
Kristen
Bradford wakes me early Wednesday morning. Way too early. He’s very persuasive, though, and has my legs spread faster than I can tell him that four thirty is too early for sex.
He fucks me rougher than he has to date and talks dirtier to me than he did yesterday. I learn that my bad girl really likes a man being impolite to her.
After we’re finished, he pulls me into his arms and asks, “What do you have planned for today?”
I roll in his arms so I’m on my side, looking up at him. Tangling my leg over his, I rest my arm on his stomach and trace my finger over his chest. “I’m going to start searching for a new job, and then, this afternoon, I’m going to buy a new dress and get a blowout for our date tonight.”
“Our date?” He appears confused, which makes sense since we technically don’t have a date penciled in for tonight.
“Yes. I told the girls at lunch yesterday that I’ve decided our social engagements for Alan shall now be dates as far as I’m concerned.”
“It’s not a date if I have to share you, Kristen.”
“So”—I reach up to run my fingers lightly over his lips—“we’ll find a rooftop and have fifteen minutes of non-sharing time.”
I see his brain putting this all together. I also see how much he likes this idea.
I snuggle closer to him. “I also want you to take me on a date with no sharing on Sunday afternoon after the lunch we have to go to. Can you make time for that?”
“You want two dates in one day?”
I grin up at him. “I’m demanding, I know. That was on the list of wife jobs when I checked the other day. I’m just doing my job.”
“I haven’t seen the proof that this list exists.”
“It really does. And I have the husband list too.”
