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I just wish her fight for it didn’t have to come right now when I want her to be fighting for the two of us to make this work. I want to fight with her for us.
I’m a pretty forgiving guy. I’d have to be to have been with Amelia as long as I was.
But if it’s going to continually come down to me feeling like I’m taking second place to something else, I’m not sure we’ll have it in us to be able to make the shift from fake to real.
And the more time we spend apart, the more I’m starting to think she doesn’t want to make that shift after all.
Chapter 45: Grace Nash
Lady Boners
A Month After the Wedding
It feels like I’m being pulled in ten different directions all at the same time, but when I spot movement out my office window behind my bungalow, I glance over.
I see Spencer step out of the rental car that he drove here, and I leap up from my desk and race over toward him. I practically topple him over in my excitement to see him here.
“God, you’re gorgeous,” he says in my move to get to him.
“I missed you,” I say, pressing my lips to his.
“Happy anniversary—a day late,” he says, and he leans down to nuzzle my neck, pulling me into a tight embrace. “This feels so good. I missed you, too.”
“Happy anniversary,” I say, holding onto him tightly, too. It feels like more than eleven days have passed since we last saw each other, and at the same time, we seem to pick back up right where we left off.
I realize I left my office door open, and my laptop on, and anyone could go in there to access my files—which, of course, I don’t want.
But the last thing I want to do is go back to my office when Spencer just got here.
I need some alone time with my husband, and all that tells me is that this is even more real than I thought it was.
Absence makes the heart grow fonder, and I’m fond as fuck right now after being away from him for far too long.
I grab his hand and pull him into my bungalow, and I kiss him again. “Let’s make a pact that we’re never apart longer than a week,” I beg.
“Deal,” he says, tucking some hair behind my ear before he moves in and really kisses me. It’s urgent and deep, and I feel his neediness after being apart for too many days.
It won’t be easy. We both have jobs that we need to be present for—albeit for very different reasons, but still valid reasons each in their own way.
But he’s worth the effort, and his single word of agreement tells me that to him, I’m worth it, too.
His neediness scales up a level as his hands move along my body, and it’s as if he can’t help himself. He reaches for the bottom of my shirt to pull it over my head, and he tosses it on the floor. I do the same to his shirt, and then I move down to his belt buckle. I trail my hand down to cup his hard cock in my palm, and I’m not sure why it comes as a surprise every single time, but it does.
He’s huge.
He’s hard.
He’s ready.
If lady boners were a thing, mine would be pointed straight up at the ceiling. Or at his chin, as the case may be.
He shoves his hips against my hand, and it’s hot as hell to feel what I do to him. He growls then bats my hand out of the way as he takes over the belt duty, and he drops his jeans down with his boxers a moment later, kicking his shoes off in the process and working the pencil skirt I wore to work. He gets the zipper down and pulls my panties off with it. I kick off my heels, and voila, we’re both naked.
He grabs me up into his arms as if I weigh nothing, and he deposits me onto my couch. He’s on top of me a second later, no words exchanged between us as he fists his cock and swipes it through me.
“Can I go in?” he asks, and the motivation behind his question is clear. He needs to know whether it’s safe to fuck me without a condom.
We’re both highly responsible adults, despite what the rings on our fingers might say, yet we haven’t had a discussion about children or sexually transmitted infections.
