Page 155 of Things Left Unsaid

It’s too easy to imbue my kiss with my thanks but also my desire.

This woman is a fighter. If I hadn’t known that before today, I know it now.

Her defense of me, the lengths she’ll go to to shield not only me but my brother sends bolts of desire through my veins, decimating me for this woman who I call ‘wife’ but who is so. Much. More. To. Me.

Her mouth opens, letting me in. Her arms wrap around my waist—our hunger is mutual in its ferocity.

And relief and want and need coalesce inside me because we’re in this together.

This.

Tongues tangling, lips seeking, breath mingling—this kiss has her arching into me, her hips chasing the brand of my dick. My hands settle on her shoulders because this is more than about sex.

This islife.

My lips brush her ear but though there are a thousand words I want to spill, I can’t seem to say any of them.

She sighs. “I need to work.” Her fingertips dig into my chest as she pulls away, but how she lingers tells me it’s the last thing she wants.

With our gazes locked on one another, she rubs her kiss-sore lips with her knuckles and retreats a pace.

She fought for me.

The notion takes over my brain.

“Watch where you’re going,” I rumble as her hip nearly bumps into the truck.

Her throat bobs. “My eyes are where they need to be.”

A soft growl escapes me. “More fighting talk, Zee?”

It’s a taunt but she lifts her chin, turns and strides off toward the main house. “Maybe I’m just waiting for you to catch up.”

“I’m plenty caught up,” I holler at her.

“Says the man stroking his horse and not his wife,” she retorts, lifting her hand over her head and flipping me the bird.

My knuckles freeze mid-rub of Fen’s muzzle and I let out a bark of laughter. When she glances at me over her shoulder, her grin in place, we lock eyes, the sizzle of need arcing between us like a lightning bolt until Fen nickers, dragging my attention from the only place it wants to be.

I don’t even get the chance to track her path into the house—she’s already gone.

Goddamn, her kisses are becoming a craving of mine. I want nothing more than to chase her down, show her exactly how caught up I am, but I don’t.

Can’t.

My goddamn responsibilities will be the death of me.

“What do you want, mischief?” I ask Fen when he butts my arm.

At his nicker, I shake my head, close the truck door, then grab my phone.

Scraping a hand over my jaw, my attention split a thousand ways, duty and responsibilities bearing down… all I can focus on is my wife.

Are we finally on the same page?

I can only fucking hope so.

Switching to my texts, I contact Callan and keep it light.

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