Page 30 of Unruly

“Who else knew about this little plan of yours, Cross?”

“Everyone,” he said, not missing a beat. “You know, those that matter, anyway.”

Oh, my God.

Catherine had learned to be a much better person over the years. She still had spells of depression that came and went, but she understood how to deal with them. Sometimes, her anxiety was a bitch, but she could handle those spells, too.

The thing she had worked on the hardest beyond those things?

Being a good wife.

Loving Cross.

Giving him someone he deserved.

This man gave Catherine absolutely everything he had to give, and he never questioned it. Cross loved her stupid because he didn’t know anything different. He never hesitated to be the good man she deserved, so she figured out how to do the same for him.

Sometimes, like now, she still thought maybe she didn’t deserve him at all. He was amazing, and she was … amazing in his eyes.

He still wanted her.

She never let him go.

“You know I love you, right?” Catherine asked.

She finally tossed her purse aside, letting it fall to the floor beside a pair of high heels she had discarded earlier.

Cross wasn’t looking at her when he replied, “Of course, babe.”

He was too busy opening the buttons on the dress shirt to notice she was coming for him. It was already well after supper. If she got her way, they would not be leaving this room for the rest of the damn night.

He did not need that suit.

Catherine snatched the black Armani from her husband’s hand and tossed it to a nearby chair without as much as a thought. Cross’s gaze narrowed on his very expensive, crumpled suit before he looked at her with a raised brow.

“What—”

Cross’s question abruptly cut off when Catherine kissed him hard on the mouth. His hands came up to cup her jaw as her arms snaked around his neck to pull him closer. His body pressed into hers, making her aware he was already half-mast beneath his boxer-briefs, and making her wish they were already naked and in bed together.

She didn’t have far to go.

The bed was to their right.

Cross was almost naked.

For the moment, he seemed a bit more interested in only kissing her. Their lips moved in a familiar dance—stroking lips, grazing tongues, and blooming desire. Already, she was hot between her thighs. She had learned over the years that nothing would abate that feeling except him. No amount of rubbing her thighs together would fix that ache.

He kissed like he fucked, and Catherine loved that. Fast, hard, and now. Deep dives of his tongue that took over hers. Harsh strokes of his lips that made her weak.

“Fuck,” Cross mumbled into her mouth, “I missed you.”

“I can tell.”

His laughter lit up her soul.

“Get me out of this dress,” she demanded.

“My fucking pleasure, babe.”