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“Hmm,” he replies as his lips drop to my neck.
“We’re going to be ok, you know. This is our family now—right here in this room, in this house. Our love and our children will block everything else out.”
I feel him smile into my neck. “Our six children,” he whispers into my skin.
“Maybe.” I smirk.
“Let’s make some tonight.” He lifts my top over my shoulders.
“No,” I mutter.
“No?” he repeats.
I shake my head. “No knocking up Stanton.”
He smirks. “Run us a bath and I am going to find us some wine. Three hours of hot water therapy is just what I need.” He kisses me and stretches my bottom lip with a stretch as he pulls away from me. A flutter of nervous excitement runs through me, Mr Stanton is in the house and I can tell he’s feeling bad.
Chapter 11
True to our words we are on our third hour in the bath, our second bottle of crystal champagne and about our tenth top-up of hot water. The room is steamy and warm and Joshua is in front encircled by my legs, his head on my chest between my breasts. With each glass of champagne he relaxes and talks just that bit more… too bad I am also feeling inebriated and so damn relaxed that I may slip into a coma at any minute. My psychology skills are down the gurgler. I pick up the sponge and squeeze it over Joshua’s chest as I brush my lips over his temple.
He frowns slightly as he thinks of something.
I kiss his cheek and wait for him to speak. One thing I have learned tonight is that if I don’t ask he will tell me. If I do ask… he shuts up.
“I’m a bad person,” he whispers.
I frown as I kiss him again on his temple. “Why do you say that?” I squeeze the water over his chest from the sponge.
“I’m glad she’s dead.” He sighs.
I frown. “Who?”
“The prostitute,” he replies.
“Oh,” I whisper. TC, the bitch.
“When the police told me she was dead I was relieved.”
“I understand why,” I whisper into his temple.
He turns and looks at me in shock. “You do?”
“That whole situation is a nightmare,” I whisper.
“It is,” he sighs as he looks forward again.
“We are innocent. Nothing can be proven, Joshua.” I kiss him again on the side of his cheek reassuringly.
He nods. “Fucking Starsky and Hutch didn’t help the situation.” He takes a drink from his crystal champagne glass.
I laugh out loud. “Starsky and Hutch.” I giggle. “I thought you said they were dumb and dumber.”
He widens his eyes. “Yeah that too,” he says flatly. We sit for another ten minutes as we slip into another comfortable silence.
“I think it’s true,” he murmurs as he stares into space.
“What is?”
