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Greedy bastard.
“How can you stand it?” I ask him.
“I don’t know what you mean.”
I gesture between us. “This. Knowing it has an expiration date.”
“I keep telling you I don’t think that date is real.”
“But I keep telling you that it is.” I chew on my lip. “Look, this feels good—”
“This feels more than good,” he corrects.
“Fine, the sex is fantastic. Okay? Does that make you happy?”
He shrugs. “Honestly, yeah, it does.”
“But it’s only sex.”
He stares at me for a few long seconds before turning away. “Let’s get lunch.”
“I’m sorry, did you not just hear me?”
“I just spent the last half hour tasting you, fucking you, making you come twice, then spilling my seed down your pretty throat. I’m hungry.”
My jaw works, frustrated, annoyed.
But my stomach growls, and shit, I’m hungry too.
“Fine,” I snap, storming past him. “But I choose the place.”
“Whatever you want, my lovely wife,” he says, and the smugness in his tone drives me absolutely insane.
Chapter25
Keely
Iget back to Nolan’s house later that evening after working at the donut shop.
All afternoon after lunch, I tried not to think about him. I bugged Roger to let me help out, which he reluctantly did, although only because I’m his boss’s wife. I puttered around with small tasks, throwing myself into screwing, hammering, and basically keeping busy sweeping up while the guys did the real heavy lifting. All the while, thoughts of Nolan kept intruding, and I did my best to avoid the metal workbench where he fucked me, but it was like every time I started doing something, I kept noticing it out of the corner of my eye.
It’s extremely distracting.
Which is why I’m not looking forward to seeing him tonight, but I can’t exactly go back to my apartment.
It’s totally empty.
Every bit of furniture, all my clothes, everything. There’s not so much as a towel to lay on the floor.
I’d know, because I made Roger take me there before driving me back to Nolan’s townhouse.
I take a deep breath as I head inside. The door unlocks the second I touch it—some sort of biometric thing built into the handle—and the smell of cooking overwhelms me. I stand on the threshold, my stomach growling. Garlic, sautéing vegetables, something spicy. I drift back to the kitchen, blinking rapidly at the heavenly aroma.
Only to find Nolan standing at the stove.
“What the heck are you doing?” I ask, blurting it out before I can stop myself.
He looks back over his shoulder. “Preparing dinner,” he says, a slight smile on his lips. “Hungry?”
