Page 91 of Salvaged Hearts

Alice’s giggle broke the trance of allure her body offered beneath my hands, and I smiled against her lips before she leaned back and said, “We smell like wet dogs.”

Head thrown back, my laugh reverberated off the ceiling. “Way to set the mood, baby.”

“Just being honest.”

“I’ll show you honest,” I growled, rotating us for the edge of the bed. “If I don’t get inside you in about thirty seconds, I think I might die.”

“How do you feel about shower sex?” she quipped cheerfully, a smug curl to those beautiful lips.

Standing with her in my arms, I answered, “Like you better hold on, my Belle.”

She did as she was told, and I lumbered into the ensuite with my woman in my arms. I may have unearthed the past, but I could bury its ache in Alessandra Rhodes-Hart.

Uncle Reggie

Seriously, Greyson? Banning me from Hart House’s approved list is below you. I’m leaving for Paris tomorrow, and we need to talk.

Uncle Reggie

Greyson, call me.

Reginald Hart

I know you’re unhappy with me, but you need to put your ego aside and call me back.

It’s becoming urgent.

Reginald Hart

You know I can see that you read my messages, don’t you?

Stop being a child about this.

Reginald Hart

Call me now.

This can’t wait for me to be back stateside, Grey.

“It’snice to see her like this,” Royce said under his breath as he elbowed me in the ribs on Sunday morning. After the most relaxed weekend of my life—in no small part thanks to the intentional absence of my phone—the four of us met up for a Sunday brunch. It was Alice’s idea, thinking it wouldn’t feel so formal, in case we got uncomfortable. It had been a surprisingly pleasant experience. Mostly because Alice seemed the most comfortable I’d seen her with someone in our circle.

Royce’s jerked chin directed my gaze to our wives, where they walked several paces ahead, arm-in-arm, through the street festival Alice spotted on our drive into the city. Her dark hair fell to her lower back, swaying with each step, while Miranda spun her dirty blonde into some fancy clip.

Irritated, I pulled out my incessant cell phone and glanced at the screen in a poor attempt at discretion.

Reginald Hart

Call me when you’re done playing house, or I don’t want to hear about it when this blows up in your face.

A bit disgruntled, I scowled as I pocketed the damn thing. With the utmost disrespect, my uncle could get fucked after the way he’d spoken about Alice. But his persistence was disarming if nothing else.

“Need to get that?” Royce asked, nodding to the insipid device.

“No, I’m sorry for interrupting,” I said, clearing my throat. “I haven’t really seen much about your bride,” I admitted as my phone buzzed for what must’ve been the dozenth time that morning. Royce shook his head in answer.

“She’s not like Alice—the way she grabs those fuckers by the balls and bends them into submission—she’s stayed as far from the spotlight as humanly possible. It’s all a bit much, you know?”

“I’ve been…impressed, to say the least, with how Alice has handled this transition.”

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