Page 200 of Accidental Husband
"Well, um… I guess… if you feel inspired. I wouldn't turn it down."
"You know how to inspire me."
Her blush spreads to her chest. "I'll keep that in mind."
My cock begs me to drag her to the bathroom, slide her jeans to her knees, fuck her senseless.
It takes every ounce of restraint to stay put.
Chapter Forty-Three
Griffin
Despite the August weather, Inked Hearts is freezing cold.
The shop is the same as always. Bright, light, airy, humming with shitty music.
Chase's favorite band flows through the speakers. It's Jules's second favorite band. And after our fuck in the limo—
I don't hate it the way I normally do.
I want to hear more.
I want to play it on repeat.
It's not the same band, just a similar sound, but I still want it in my ears forever.
The music fades. The shop goes silent.
Hunter rises from his suite. "Wes isn't here." My friend shoots me a wide smile, one beaming with pride. "So it's my job to do this."
He brandishes a bottle of sparking apple cider—he got out of rehab last year—and peels off the foil.
"Yes!" Someone exclaims from the counter. Emma, Hunter's girlfriend and the shop manager. She taps something on the computer. Switches the song toWhite Wedding.
Em and Jules have exactly the same taste in music. If she's willing to change something this "obviously amazing," she must be happy for me.
"Cups!" She pushes herself over the counter. Skips to the office.
Hunter's smile spreads over his lips. "It won't foam when we open it."
My head goes right back to the limo. To champagne spilling over Jules's thighs. And my intense need to taste her.
"Defeats the purpose, doesn't it?" I tease.
He nodsyeah. "Hate to be the guy who ruins the fun."
"Don't do that." I take the bottle. "Nobody wants to drink at eleven a.m."
"Speak for yourself. A year ago…"I'd already be drunk.His chuckle is knowing. "Fuck, can you believe it?"
"Which part?"
"All of it?" He motions to his girlfriend, Emma, as she skips back into the room with a stack of plastic cups (okay, she's not skipping, so much as bouncing. She's always bouncy when he's around).
"You're good to her," I say.
"I try." His eyes get dreamy. "Fuck, sorry. This is supposed to be about you."
