Page 51 of Reckless Vow

“What?” She narrows her eyebrows.

She doesn’t move from her spot beside the sofa, and I remain in the doorway.

It’s like we’re suspended in this territory where we dance around—pun intended—our unresolved feelings from the past, not knowing how to move forward.

“You look much better.”

She smiles and walks to the kitchen. “You don’t look too bad yourself.” She gets a glass and fills it at the fridge door.

After gulping it down, she dons mitts and pulls a dish out of the oven, then rises onto her toes to grab plates from an upper cabinet.

“So how was your day?” She gestures to a seat at the corner of the island and sets the dinner there.

I frown. When I left her this morning, she ate a piece of toast and was feeling much better. But I still left on an awkward note, the night before lingering.

I didn’t want to leave her alone, but I had to smooth things over with Corm after I bailed on the event.

Despite our bonding last night, and my realization that if something happened to her I wouldn’t survive, I was dreading my return home.

It’s like the distance helped me regain my control, and every fiber in me knew I’d lose it again the minute I saw her.

“What are you doing?”

“Serving you dinner.” Brook bites her bottom lip, grinning. “Being a good wife.”

Wife. Fuck me. Everything she does turns me on.

I prowl toward her. “Careful there, sweetheart. If you were my wife for real, I’d fuck you before dinner. And after it as well.”

Brook tenses, but her eyes lock with mine, full of fire. She swallows and licks her lips and, fuck, if my cock doesn’t feel it.

Yeah, I went there. And my dick is all too happy about that.

That regained control was just a pipe dream I keep stubbornly trying to fool myself into.

“But thank you for asking, my day was decent enough. It’s a bit better now.” I wink, and a flush spreads over her face. She’s adorable.

“Aren’t you romantic?” She ladles some sort of casserole onto my plate.

“Just being a good husband.”

I try to hide my smirk. God, I enjoy teasing her a bit more than is healthy for this fragile relationship.

We eat in silence for a moment, but in the absence of the conversation I keep thinking about her lips, her body, those dance moves, and everything in between that turns me on.

Brook practically vibrates with energy, but I’m not sure if it’s temptation or irritation.

That would sum up our current relationship. Equally tempting and irritating.

There is no question one of these feelings will dominate and explode soon. The question is, will we kill each other or fuck our brains out?

“How was your day?” I mimic her earlier question, desperately looking for some common ground.

“Fine.”

She puts the fork into her mouth. And now I’m thinking about other things that would fit into her mouth, and no way can I stand up without her noticing the tent in my pants.

“What did you do?”

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