Page 93 of Bad Run

“Are you going to get ready for breakfast, or are you going to keep staring at my cock all day?”

The smile on her morphs into a scowl. “I wasn’t staring until you poked me with it, so this is all your fault.”

Why does she have to say shit like that? Because now all I want to do is poke her with my cock.

Fuck.

This is going to be the longest and hardest five days of my life.

“So, how is this going to work?” Gwen asks as she licks donut glaze off her index finger.

Jerking off in the shower did nothing for me because my boner problem is back.

Every little thing Gwen does is sexy, and she doesn’t even know it.

The way her lips wrap around her thumb has me choking on my saliva. I rip my eyes away from her sexy, pink mouth and face the coffee pot, then count until my cock feels semi-deflated.

“How is what going to work?” I ask, pouring myself a cup of coffee, distracting myself from other ways I’d love Gwen to use her mouth, and none of them are PG.

“At work? How are we going to hide our …” She pauses, forcing me to turn around and face her. Her gaze is off into the distance as she searches for the right word. “Relationship?”

“Why would we hide our relationship? We’re married.” I blow on the surface of the coffee-filled mug.

“Shouldn’t we fill out paperwork with HR or something first?” she asks, grabbing another donut from the box.

I wasn’t sure what Gwen liked to eat for breakfast, but I know she has a soft spot for donuts, so I ordered a dozen from the same café we met at, along with some fruit and yogurt, just to cover all my bases.

“I already took care of it.” I lean back against the counter and take a sip of coffee.

“What do you mean, you took care of it?” She glares at me.

I wondered when this conversation was going to come up. My little witch is ten steps behind, but I have no problem waiting for her to catch up.

“I disclosed our relationship to the proper channels before we got married.”

I’m not sure paying the janitor to slip a back-dated and signed relationship consent form into our files is considered the proper channels, but it is what it is.

“You did what?” The blood drains from her face as she places hands on the counter for balance.

I place my coffee on the counter and make my way around to her. I turn her to face me and place my hands on her shoulders. Her mouth opens and closes like that of a floundering fish.

“Breathe, Gwen, breathe.” Doing as I asked, she sucks in a ragged breath. When she’s steady, I continue, “I have a friend in the front office who helped me place backdated forms in our HR files.”

“You did? What friend?” she asks.

“I did. We’re covered,” I answer, ignoring her second question. As much as I want to tell Gwen about the janitor, I can’t.

At least not yet. We need more time together, and I need more time to get her to see what’s right in front of her—me.

“Do you trust me?” I ask, rubbing my hands up and down her arms.

The blue-green streaks in her irises flicker as she stares up at me. Whatever she sees has her nodding. “Yes, I trust you.”

Her trust makes my chest swell with hope.

I might be able to pull off my plan. There’s nothing I wouldn’t do for this woman. I know that now. I just have to prove it to her.

“Thank you.” I cup her face in my palms and run my thumbs over her cheeks. “I promise, I won’t let you down. I’ve got this, okay?”