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“So do you.” She laughs.
“I love it.”
“I know.”
My eyes roam around our living room, skimming over the corner of baby items, and land on the built-in bookcases. I zone in on the center shelf and notice it empty. My senses go on alert as I scan the other shelves, looking for the photo I purposely placed there so I’d see it every time I entered the room. Greer is constant
ly moving it, only for me to come behind her and place it back.
“Baby, where’s our wedding picture?”
“Which one?”
“The only one that matters.”
“That’s rude, considering we have pictures covering the house.”
“Don’t play coy. Where is it?”
“Last time I saw it, Sandy was dusting it.”
Irritation spikes in my bloodstream. Sandy has been working for the Palmer family for over a decade. She’s efficient, trustworthy, and excellent at her job. Greer adores her, and Sandy is wild about our family. I liked her until this minute.
“The picture is missing, Greer. We need to call Sandy immediately.”
“I’m sure it’s not missing. Quit being ridiculous.”
She lets out a little yelp when I hoist her up, forcing her legs around my hips, and stalk to the middle of the room to inspect closer. Several pictures are rearranged, but none of them is the one I care about most.
“Lawson, look at me.” She balances her elbows on my shoulders and cups my cheeks, bringing my face to hers. “It’s not missing,” she reassures me.
“Where the hell is—”
She cuts me off, placing her lips on mine and slipping her tongue inside. All thoughts of the picture fly out of my head as she kisses me, curving her body into mine. Electric sensations start low in my stomach, unraveling and shooting through my veins. Every nerve ending comes alive as our tongues tangle and swirl together in rhythm. This morning seems like a lifetime ago since I had her writhing under me, calling my name as she flew apart.
I grip her ass, backing her into the shelves and deepening our connection. I kiss her like a starving man, unable to get enough. She grinds against my dick, and I growl down her throat, thrusting up.
Her hands slide into my hair, fisting as she moans, the sound vibrating against my tongue. She rocks, back and forth, up and down—moving urgently as the friction builds between us. The soft fabric of my sweatpants feels like sandpaper as my dick strains to be set free.
“Sofa,” I say into her mouth, twisting us.
“No.” She tears her mouth away and rests her forehead on mine. “Don’t stop.” Burning desire glows from her eyes, demanding more.
I crush my hipbones upward. “Right here?”
She gives me a short nod before tossing her head back and pressing down with such force an ache shoots down my dick. Her breathing speeds up as she rides me. I soak in the vision, ignoring the searing need pulsing through my veins.
I’m a lucky son of a bitch, I think to myself, watching Greer in awe. Her body tenses, her thighs constrict, and her fingernails dig into my flesh as she bucks and whimpers into the air. A surge of pride courses through me, awakening the possessive beast inside at the sight in my arms.
She comes down to earth, bracing her back to the shelves and spearing me with her satisfied gaze. “That was fun.”
“Fun?”
“Completely unexpected, but you never disappoint.”
“Why am I suddenly suspicious?”
“Because you’re a controlling nutcase that asks too many questions and needed distracting.”
