Page 93 of Deceit

“Where’s my room, Ems?”

“Upstairs.”

No shit.

A cocky smirk plays off my features, and I don’t bother to make it fall.

No, I love to see Emmy bothered by the random shit I say.

“Wanna show me?”

Her brows knit. “You didn’t want your drink?” I shake my head because I have other wants right now.

I want Emmy’s legs wrapped around my neck as I give her a birthday orgasm before giving her another one with my dick if she feels so inclined.

“Are you having a horrible time?” The slight disappointment in her voice, I want to wipe it clean.

Whether she’s in a place I don’t want her to be, or somewhere that we have to be together, I’m never having an abhorrent time if she’s in the room.

“Just forgot where it was. Your house is too big.”

“Alright then.” Emmy steps to the side, pulling herself out of the sandwich I created between me and the island and leads me to the second story.

The stairs are a dark and shiny marble getting me to wonder how she ever ran around as a kid without busting her ass on the floors. How cute she’d look in little dresses like Madelyn, causing havoc and shit.

We turn to the left and down the lengthy hall, doors on either side of us as she gets to the end before pivoting and gesturing with her hand, “This is it. One long walk down, one hallway.”

“Where’s yours?” I press, looking back at the rooms we passed along the way.

“You don’t want to see it, trust me.”

“Why not?” I bring my neck around to see her fidgeting with her fingers. “I should know what room my hostess is staying in, in case I need something.”

Her eyes narrow. “Kace Bishop you never need anything.”

“Not true.” I shake my head, erasing a step towards her. “I always have this pestering and overly strong feeling to fuck this certain blonde all the time.”

I see her swallow before she crosses her arms defensively along her chest, playing my comment off like a joke. “How romantic.”

“Are you dogging me for wanting to sleep with my wife?”

“I’m barely your wife. We don’t—“ I tsk and shake my head again.

“You hid me, not the other way around. I would’ve made a banner if you wanted me to, Emmy. I don’t give a fuck what Marty or Mills have to say about it.”

“And Kyson?” She flicks a brow. “What do you think he’d say if he knew we married each other on accident?”

“Who said it was by accident?”

Emmy squints at me. “I do. We were drunk and—“

“And I was crushing on you for years.” I corner her literally between two walls so that she can’t excuse what I’m saying like she always has.

In Emmy Lou Rhodes’s mind, all I want to do is fuck her.

And even though that is perfectly true, I do hold very vigorous feelings for the woman I convinced to marry me.

Were we toasted, yeah, but I’d never change what we did, obviously because I won’t divorce her.

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