Page 79 of The Proposal Pact
I feel the corners of my mouth tug up. “No one compares to my little menace.”
Sophie’s olive skin complexation does it's best to hide the small blush coloring her cheeks, but I spot it, watching as she slowly sinks her teeth into her bottom lip, and the coil that was building since I woke up snaps inside me.
My thumb is on that bruised lip instantly, pulling it free from its confinement and I run the pad of it across the fading teeth mark.
So soft, so perfectly pink. The need to feel it pressed against my own is almost overwhelming in that moment. It’s so strong I forget where I am, who’s around us or the fact that I haven’t kissed anyone in many, many years.
Anyone but my wife yesterday.
And I want it now.
I’ve wanted it since the moment we woke up, her in my arms. I want her.
My thumb is still on Sophie’s lip, and I feel her breath quicken, the warmth coating my skin and…
My phone rings on the counter, snapping me out of the haze halfway to her lips. My eyes snap to hers.
Damn it, I was about to kiss her. Quickly, I pull away, taking my phone out to see it’s the station calling me.
“Shit. I need to get going.” And thank fuck…what is it about this girl that makes me lose all sane thought?
Stuffing my phone back into my pocket, I grab my keys and head to the door when Sophie stops me.
“Hey, husband?” She wraps her arms around me as a loving wife would, but all I can think about is her white oversized T-shirt ridingup high enough to expose that sweet ass I slept pressed against with my aching cock the whole night.
“Yeah?” I swallow hard.
If I don’t leave now, I’ll do something stupid.
Yeah, more stupid than getting fake married. Because there’s nothing fake about the burn inside me. Nothing fake about the need I feel and the very hard erection in my pants.
“You still remember our deal?” she asks through a sweet smile, quiet enough for only me to hear her, even though I know Grace is working very hard to be in the know as well right now.
“What deal?” I frown.
“The text messages,” she grits out, popping her eyes out and it takes me a second to mull that over, trying to remember what she meant by that.
A second later, recognition sets in, and I feel my eyes grow wide. “Wait, you were serious about that?”
“As a heart attack.” Sophie pats my cheek lovingly.
Fucking hell…she wants those dirty text messages.
“It’s the least you can do,” she whispers softly, and I can’t fight her on that one. “It doesn’t have to be personal, Shrek. I know you don’t feel like that toward me, so you can even look them up on Google. Just make sure you find a good one.”
My blood simmers, my cock threatening to rip through the zipper to show her exactly how he feels about her and her dirty text messages.
I step close to her. So close there’s no mistaking what she does to my body, and I know she can feel it.
Bending down, I bring my lips to her ear and whisper, “As if I’d ever need any inspiration for what I could do to you.”
Sophie gasps and I walk out the door. That little…I’ll show her inspiration. If only she had any idea what I’d do to my fake wife if I stayed another second longer in that apartment.
Audience be damned.
Quickly, I fish my phone out of the pocket and nearly loose it when I see what she named herself in my contacts list.
Fiona.Fiona.My wife thinks she’s fucking hilarious.
