Page 159 of Dirty Husband
Still, I try the coffee again. Let him buy me pistachio gelato to make it up to me.
Let him make it up to me in much more interesting ways.
I insist on a trip to the Coliseum, but the enormous ruins aren't enough to keep me away from the hotel. When Shep asks if I want to stay or go—
We spend the afternoon in bed.
He gets naked with me.
Yes, he holds my arms over my head. Yes, I come the second he brings his hand to my throat. Yes, I love how he's in control.
But there's something about him trusting me like this. About feeling every inch of his skin against mine.
Raking my nails against his back.
So, when we arrive home after dinner and take off our clothes, I offer him my hand. I let him lead. I let him show me where to touch him.
Then I stop waiting for his permission.
I run my hands through his hair. I dig my nails into his back. I bring my lips to his neck.
I kiss him like I'll never get enough.
Because I won't.
I really won't.
* * *
Even our returnflight is heavenly. Six quiet hours with a book.
Okay, the shitty tea isn't great. But there's something fresh waiting at home.
Oolong, raspberry teacakes, and reality.
All these wedding plans to finalize. Details to figure out. A guest list to double-check.
Shep's stepfather is coming. That makes sense. He is practically his dad.
Or it should.
But when I scour the Internet for hints of Shep and Lucien's contact, I find nothing. No business deals. No social media. No interviews where one mentions the other.
It's like they don't know each other.
And Shep certainly wasn't fond of his stepfather.
So why is he sitting in the front row at our wedding?
Why does Shep change the subject when I ask if he's coming to the rehearsal dinner?
I always thought there was something there, some reason why their relationship was strained, but there's no way…
That's not possible.
Is it?
Chapter Forty-One
