Page 40 of His Weekend Wife

“They’re from a local artist that very many haven’t heard of. Angelina Knight.”

“Angelina painted these?”

He nodded. “She did.” He placed his hand on the small of her back

Wrapping her arms around her waist, she hoped to still the misbehaving butterflies. She was distracted by both him and the fact that Angelina had great talent—a secret talent. He cocked his head to the side and regarded her intently. She swallowed. “The world should see her work.”

“I couldn’t agree more, bella.” His soft voice made her toes curl.

“I’m hungry. How about you?” He held out his arm and she slipped her slender fingers around his elbow.

“I could eat.”

“Great news.” He led her back through the door of his office and stopped at the desk. “Marabeth, I don’t want to be disturbed.”

“Yes, sir,” the woman answered.

“Where are we going?” Ash asked as they stepped into his private elevator and the doors closed.

*****

“Please forgive my manners. A man should greet his wife with more eagerness.” He took two steps, eating up the space between them, and pressed her against the mirrored wall with his body. He half expected resistance, but she looked up at him with wide, inviting eyes and a puckered bottom lip. Lowering his mouth to hers, meaning only to tease her plump lips, he instead dipped his tongue inside and plundered her sweetness. A little wasn’t enough. He wrapped his arm around her waist, dragging her closer, while bringing his other hand to her soft cheek. “Your skin is so warm and soft.” He kissed her again, her tongue met his and a whimper floated up her throat.

The bell dinged warning them that they’d arrived at their destination and he pulled back, but didn’t loosen his arm from her. “Here we are.” He was fully aware of the huskiness to his voice and the tenting of his pants. Good thing they were alone, and the reason why he’d been smart enough to wait until they had complete privacy to kiss her. When he was near her, he had no control over his body, or his mind.

They moved through large metal doors into the outside. The sun was setting and the air was cooler.

“What are we doing here?” she asked.

“Do you remember when we had dinner on the rooftop of our apartment?”

“Pizza and beer. Gourmet.” Her gentle laughter struck him right in the chest.

“Well, there is no pizza or beer on the menu, but I think you’ll appreciate the carte du jour.”

---