Page 62 of The Wife Situation

Weston grabs my arm and stops me. “Already jealous?”

“Kindly fuck off.” I pull my arm from his grip, straightening my jacket, and stalk across the room.

When I’m close, Lexi politely excuses herself from him and places her hand on my chest. “I still had ten minutes,” she whispers.

I glance over her shoulder and watch Billie shoo the guy away. She’s a pro at that.

“It’s fine. I kinda missed you,” she says, pulling my attention back to her with a smile.

“Truth?” I ask, tilting my head.

“Yes,” she whispers. “In a room of strangers, you’re the only person I know.”

I lean into her, close to her ear. “Want to get out of here?”

“Thought you’d never ask,” she says.

My hand finds its way to the small of her back as I lead her across the room. Weston watches from the perimeter and shakes his head with a smile, because he knows.

When we’re away from everyone, I slightly relax. The jealousy that reared its ugly head was almost too much. I don’t like seeing anyone too close to her, looking at her like she’s the whole damn meal. A buffet for anyone to enjoy. She’s not. Alexis is mine.

The valet area is busy; cars are driving in and out, and there’s a small crowd waiting. I’m instantly approached and I hand over the ticket.

“I’ll have this right out to you, Mr. Calloway,” the man says.

I say, “Thank you,” with a nod.

Then, I pull Lexi away from everyone, aware that eyes are still on us and the cameras probably are too.

“What happened back there?” She doesn’t sound mad or upset. Her tone is neutral and curious.

“I didn’t like how he was looking at you,” I admit.

I brush my thumb against her cheek and she smiles at me.

“It’s kinda hot when you go feral like that. The jealousy act—it was a perfect touch,” she says.

“Itwasn’tan act,” I growl.

I can smell the sweet champagne on her breath.

“Oh.” Her eyes darken. “That wasreal.”

“I don’t want anyone touching you or disrespecting you or looking at you the way he was.”

“Thank you.” Her breath slightly hitches, but it’s there.

“It’s different with you. I don’t know why,” I tell her.

She grabs my tie, running her hand down it. “It’s because I don’t desperately want you. You’ve only ever surrounded yourself with women who do.”

I rest my hands on her waist as she stands before me, her mouth inches from mine. “You’re my karma.”

“I like the thought of that, but I’m more like your lifeline.”

I study her lips, contemplating kissing her but knowing that line shouldn’t be crossed too much. Especially in moments like this, when I’m drunk on her perfume and presence. I’m not setting myself up for heartbreak.

“Maybe I’myours,” I mutter, and her breaths grow ragged.

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