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“God. I want to brand you.” I grab his face, kissing his lips. “I want everyone to know you’re mine.”
His hands find my ass, moving it back and forth over the rigid strain of his cock. “So possessive.”
“Mm.”
I kiss him once more before climbing off his lap. “You need to go and talk with your sister. Actually, she has no hot water. Bring her back to our apartment so the poor girl can shower.”
“I want to fuck you, not talk about Gabriella.”
“Too bad,” I sing, walking from the room.
Gabriella walksinto the apartment cautiously.
“Hi.”
She smirks.
“I’m really sorry for calling you a whore and accusing you of fucking Vincent.”
“It wasbeyonddisgusting,” she retorts.
“Yeah.” I bite my lip.
We’re alone, which I didn’t expect. I expected Vincent to play interference and strip away the awkwardness of my insults. “Where is Vincent?” I look past her toward the entryway.
She follows my gaze. “He said he had something to take care of. But he said you were cool with me using your hot water.”
“Yes.” I smile wide. “Follow me.”
She follows me to the guest bathroom.
“I’m really sorry your life is chaotic right now,” I offer.
“No different to yours, I guess,” she ponders. “Being made to marry someone you don’t know.”
I shrug. “It worked out. I love Vincent.”
“I can see that. He seems as equally as obsessed with you.”
“You think so?”
She arches a dark brow. “Didn’t peg you for the insecure type. Jealous, for sure, insecure, not so much.”
I duck my head, hating the way my cheeks shade. “Vincent isn’t big with words. I can only read what I see, and sometimes I’m worried I’ve convinced myself that something is there when it really isn’t.”
She places her bag on the vanity. “It’s there.”
I want to hug her, but I refrain. “I’ll leave you to it,” I murmur, leaning her in the bathroom.
She showered for almost forty minutes, walking from the bathroom with a dreamy smile on her face.
“Hot water is a luxury I never care to go without. I’m spoiled, but whatever.”
“Would you like some lunch?” I stand from the couch, gesturing toward the kitchen. “I’m not the greatest cook, but Heather, our—”
“Rain check?” she cuts in. “I think I’m just going to go home and take some self-care time. I can’t remember the last time I actually dried and styled my hair.”
I smile to hide my disappointment. “Of course.”
