Page 168 of The Wife Situation

“I’m going to miss this,” he mutters, placing soft kisses on my neck and against my hair.

I know he’s not talking about the island or the beach. He’s referring to the uninterrupted time we were given to spend together.

“You’re my priority, pretty girl.”

I don’t want to get attached, but I know it’s too late.

“Easton, your job is your priority. That doesn’t change because of us. It’s the reason there is even anus,” I say, knowing that he’ll return to work tomorrow and he needs to be prepared. In his world, a lot can happen in two weeks. If anything, I’m proof of it.

He smirks. “Don’t do that.”

I turn to him. “Do what?”

His dark, messy hair is pushed to the side. Deep blue eyes, which change color depending on what he’s wearing, stare back at me. I glance at the light brush of freckles on his nose that are barely noticeable, but I’ve kissed and memorized every single one since we saidI do.

Easton Calloway is a thirst trap, and he’s quenched every one of mine.

“Don’t act like something will be different between us when we return to New York.”

“It will. How many days until you take over the company?” I ask, meeting his eyes.

“Twenty-six,” he exhales.

I smile, knowing he’s been counting. It’s what he does. He counts down everything—from his relationships to the seconds of his day.

I study him. “Don’t lose sight of that, okay? That was important to you. I don’t want it to change.”

“Sorry, darling, you don’t get to decide my priorities when your name is at the top of the list.”

“But—”

His lips crash into mine; his hand gently rests on my cheek. “Nothing changes, Lexi,” he whispers against my mouth. “Especially not how I feel about you.”

And I want to believe him so fucking much that it hurts.

“Some days will be easy, and some days will be hard. That’s what I signed up for when I agreed to marry you,” I say, repeating what he told me. It was atruth.

“So, let’s enjoy the good days while we’re living them instead of missing them like they’re already gone,” he says, kissing me more slowly.

He tastes likeme.

I inhale the tropical soap on his skin, wanting to remember this, us, just like this.

“How did you know that’s what I was doing?”

“Because I see you, Lexi. I can feel what you’re thinking by how your breathing changes or by the expression on your face,” he admits. “I’m not letting you push me away. Each time you do, I’ll purposely pull you in even harder. You do realize that, don’t you?”

“Is that a threat?” I ask, wearing a devious grin.

“It’s afuckingpromise,wifey.”

I laugh, shaking my head. “For a minute, I thought you were getting soft on me.”

He whispers in my ear, “I’m never soft when you’re around.”

I glance down at his shorts, and he’s hard; the outline of his thickness can’t be missed in those khakis.

I rub my palm against his cock—my cock, the one that belongs to me now—and his breathing increases. I follow the scruff down his jaw to his quickening pulse.

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