Page 157 of Pink and Country

“Who?”

“Savannah Prince.” I choked on my breathing. I hadn’t heard that name in years. After the whole dragging-April-into-the-dirt episode, Savannah got a taste of her own medicine. Producers dropped her off two blockbusters that were supposed to rocket her career to stardom, and she’d been acting in only-for-TV movies and other small projects since. The last I heard, she was bartending in a dive-bar in LA to make ends meet.

“You’re kidding, right?”

“I wish. Jill told me she heard Savannah got paid a lot of money to dish out dirt about other celebrities. I’m pretty sure you’ll be in her book. Or maybe we’ll both be. Who knows? She hated both of us.” April sank her body into mine.

I sighed and narrowed my eyes.

“I can’t believe she’s still a head case after all this time. Guess she didn’t learn her lesson.” I shrugged. “Please don’t worry about her.”

April cocked her head so I could look at her face. “I won’t. I’m sad for her. She’d do anything for attention, fame, or money.”

My lips found the flesh of my wife’s neck, and I tickled it with the tip of my tongue. April squirmed, and I tightened my arms around her. She moaned, and I knew I was a goner.

April ended our make-out session when she turned in my arms. “Did you send that stroller back?” she asked, the skin of her neck blotchy, thanks to my short stubble.

After photos of April and me with wedding bands and a visibly pregnant belly surfaced a few years back, she had designers sending her clothes and companies sending her baby stuff. April sent back every single item. Two pregnancies later and she still returned every item companies sent us. My wife had strong convictions, and no one would ever buy her out with money—or free, overpriced stuff.

I stopped fighting it a long time ago. Except for the tennis bracelet I gave her when we moved in together and her engagement ring, April barely ever let me buy her jewelry or other expensive gifts. Instead, we used the money to launch a program to help young artists pursue their dreams. April and I started the foundation that funded the program, and I helped manage it in-between other engagements. April dedicated a few hours a week to helping those teenagers.

I nodded. “The stroller. The crib. The clothes. All of it. Now can we go back to what we were doing? My dick has been hard for you all day. He’s been patient enough, and I think he deserves some fun and a treat.” April cupped my erection, and a whistle escaped my mouth. “God, you feel good. Let’s get the birthday celebrations started.”

April chuckled and kissed the side of my throat. I shivered. My dick pulsed. My restraints slackened.

“I love you when you talk dirty, Country Boy.” April grazed her lips with her tongue, and I almost shot my load in my pants. This woman robbed me of all my self-control. My sex-brain took over, and I ground against her hand as a deep, guttural groan exited my mouth.

“Fuck, Wife. You’re killing me.”

“You’ve seen nothing yet, Husband.”

April unbuttoned my denims. Was she taking her time on purpose? Fairy could be evil when she put her mind to it. Her eyes met mine, and she gave me an innocent look, chewing on her lower lip. I swallowed hard. She sat on a chair, pulling me to her.

“It’s your birthday, I should be the one spoiling you.”

April freed my cock, and her tongue played with the tip.

“Damn, woman. Don’t make me beg—” My phone went off, and we both froze. “What the fucking hell? It’s like ten o’clock.”

April fished my phone from my back pocket. Her brows bunched together. “Riley.”

We both stared at the device as if it were a bomb we were supposed to diffuse.

“It could be an emergency,” April finally declared, her cheeks still flushed from our foreplay.

Curiosity got the best of me. “Fine.” I tugged at her hand, and she followed me as we both sat on the edge of the bed. I accepted the call. April’s hand curved around my hard flesh, pumping me in slow strokes. My throat bobbed.

“Hey, Carter. Glad you picked up. Listen, I know you don’t want to schedule any shows until after the baby is born, but I may have something you could help me with.” My manager spoke fast, not leaving me time to say anything.

“Talk.” That was all I could say as waves of heat rippled through me.

April kissed my jaw and mouthed an “Is everything all right?” I shrugged as my hand landed on her ass.

“I have three talented musicians I want to sign. They remind me of you guys when you started the band.”

“What’s the catch?”

“They hate one another. Too many egos. Too much drama. They refuse to work together. They’d be a killer group if they’d give it a chance. You know I’m always right about these things. So, I was thinking, I want you to mentor them.”