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“My absolutely beautiful wife and mother of my child taking a nap practically naked? Yes. I’m such a con artist.” He reached over to pat her leg. “I gotta say, you shouldn’t have ever believed I’d take a naked picture of you without your permission. Who does that?” He ignored her growl. “Though I must admit that now you’ve put the idea in my head…”
She reached over and smacked him. Hard. “Six hours straight. No refreshments. Just my pussy.”
His smirk made her nipples stand at attention. “Sounds like a win-win to me.” He lifted the notebook. “I’m thinking maybe I should pull over and read this right now.”
She tuned out his laughter and plotted revenge.
Serious freaking revenge.
THREE
He wasthe luckiest man alive.
Sure, there had been a few rocky moments when Jazz had threatened him with such horrible tasks as marathon hours of pussy eating, and she’d done her fair share of growling, but now she was singing along to the radio and the breeze was blowing through her long dark hair. And fuck him, but he’d never been happier or more grateful than in this moment.
Or any of the others that had come after she’d said “I do.”
Her cheerful bubble popped the instant he took the freeway exit that would lead them to Vista View, their old stomping grounds. His old stomping grounds, more accurately. They’d first met each other when she’d been placed as a foster child in his house as a teenager, and he was pretty sure most of her earlier memories of living with his family were good. At least he hoped so.
What had occurred between Jazz and his older brother Brent when she was sixteen had shattered that, and he’d been trying to make up for it ever since.
He didn’t know if his surprises today would all be good or if they’d stir up some uncomfortable memories. His goal was to change that—to erase the past as best as he could and make new memories that she’d never want to forget.
His goal might be shit, but he was trying anyway.
“Where are we going?” Jazz tugged her bare feet off the dashboard—her usual position when she rode shotgun, because even with her growing belly she was still tiny and stupidly flexible—and sat up straighter. “Why are we here?”
“Surprise, remember?” He cupped her knee and rubbed his thumb over the G-clef she’d drawn in marker on the side of her leg. Even though she was now married and pregnant, she still used markers to draw on herself, as she had since the first day he’d met her.
She didn’t have tattoos. She had Crayola.
“I remember, but why here? There’s nothing here for us but bad—”
“That’s so not true.”
She fell silent.
“Okay, I’ll give you a hint where we’re headed first. Think game machines and Cosmo articles on blowjobs.”
Her lips wiggled as she fought a smile. “That’s not a bad memory.”
“Duh. See, I told you.”
She shifted toward him on the seat, the sunshine slashing across her earnest expression. “So, where else?”
“Wait and see.” He pushed his hand against her forehead, making her laugh. The best sound in the whole world.
“Fine.” She slid him a look under her lashes. “I trust you.”
“I should hope so, since you pledged all eternity to me, you jerk.”
She laughed again and resumed singing. That didn’t stop her from giving him suspicious sidelong glances every few moments.
By the time he turned into the lot of the Grab ‘n Go convenience store near his old house, she was back to bopping her feet and doing air drums. He grinned and pocketed his sunglasses. That was one of the things he loved most about her. She never stayed worried for long. His Jazz was irrepressible.
“So…since the last time we were here, you bought condoms we never used—and since we obviously are a day late and a dollar short there,” she patted her belly while he laughed, “what else do we need we couldn’t have gotten back home?Ourhome, with the rest of the band.”
“That’s not our home.”
