Page 171 of The Wife Situation

“Do you want to pick a room?”

I laugh and he tilts his head.

“Yours.”

He grabs my elbow, brushing his thumb against my skin, and smiles. “Ours. Onlyconfirming you haven’t changed your mind about us.”

“I’m not leaving the center of whatever mattress you’re sleeping on unless you want me to,” I admit.

“So, never. Got it.” He gives me a boyish grin and I nearly melt right there.

Easton takes a quick shower and I jump in with him as we rinse the day off our bodies. Then, we climb between his silk sheets and he holds me against his chest. I fall asleep to the calm sound of his beating heart.

My eyes flutter open with Easton’s cock pressed into my back. His breathing is smooth and even and I know he’s still sleeping. I glance out at the twinkling lights of the surrounding buildings and let out a content sigh, wishing I knew what the future held.

“Go to sleep,” Easton whispers in my ear. His voice is a sexy gruff.

I suck in a deep breath and smile on an exhale.

I want my thoughts to let me go so I can drift off to dreamland with him again, but my mind races. “I’m going to miss you.”

“I know,” he says. “Meet me for lunch tomorrow.”

“Burgers?”

“I’d love that,” he tells me, his chin on my shoulder.

His breath floats against the nape of my neck, his chest against my bare back. His hand slides into my panties and I sigh heavily when he touches me.

“Fuck,” he growls as my hips buck forward, giving him access to my wet slit.

It doesn’t matter how much of him I have; I always ache for more.

I bite on my bottom lip, knowing it won’t take much to get me off. My breathing turns into pants, and soon, I’m sliding out of my panties. Easton is on top of me, burying himself deep inside. I grab on to the sheets with my fists as he pumps into me.

“Easton,” I groan, opening my thighs, wanting him to break me in half. “I want to feel where you’ve been tomorrow.”

“Mmm, you will,” he says as I cry out, the pleasure too much to bear.

“I’m so in love with you,” he whispers. “So fucking in love.”

And like a summer breeze, we’re whisked away, chasing total ecstasy and finding it together. The two of us collapse after only temporarily satisfying an insatiable hunger.

The next time I wake, I reach over to an empty California king. Where he was is cold to the touch. Based on how high the bright sun is, Easton’s been gone for hours.

I notice a small sheet of paper on the nightstand.

The outside reads,One Week Married to You.

I open it, and there’s a drawing of me sleeping in bedthis morning. I glance at the vantage point, knowing exactly where he was standing as he drew this, and I can imagine him therewith the intense expression on his beautiful face as he sketched everything, down to the knobs on the drawers of the nightstand. The detail of my hair, the crumpled blankets, and the curve of my back are impressive.

When I unlock my phone, I see it’s ten minutes until ten. It’s the latest I’ve slept in since I crashed into Easton at the W. I needed sleep after gallivanting around the world with a man I’d only dreamed existed.

I go downstairs, wearing one of Easton’s T-shirts, and move to the kitchen. I stand on my tiptoes and grab my mug from the cabinet, pulling it down and sliding it under the espresso machine. After looking around the gadget, I press a button on top. A song plays, the beans grind, and seconds later, a beautiful, dark espresso drips into my cup.

“No way,” I say, glancing down at the crema floating at the top. I swirl it around, inhaling it.

“Good morning, beautiful,” Easton says from a speaker on the counter. His face pops up on the screen.

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