Page 126 of If You Claim Me
“Why are they calling you now? You’re already bringing your work home with you and now this? It’s after eight. Tell them you can’t do it.”
“There’s no one else to handle it. I’ll be back in a couple of hours.”
He blocks me from descending. “I don’t want a wife who lies to me.”
“Well, that wasn’t in the contract, was it, Connor?” We had such a nice night—if one considers being bent over a desk and fucked until my legs gave out nice, which I do—and now here I am, running out on him.
“A lot of things weren’t in the contract, Mildred,” he reminds me. Unfairly.
“You don’t get to be picky about the kind of wife I am.” Especially since I’m also the kind who tried to swallow his entire cock less than an hour ago.
I try to move around him, but he’s fast, and bigger than me, so he blocks my every move.
“You’re going to end up wearing that dessert in a moment, husband,” I warn.
He arches one dark, delicious eyebrow. “Don’t threaten me with a good time, wife.”
I go with brutal honesty in the hope that it will ick him out. “Everly got her period. She’s locked in a bathroom at a café and doesn’t have a spare pair of pants. I’m bringing her some.”
“Why is she asking you for help and not the group home?”
“Because she’s somewhere she’s not supposed to be already, and she’s trying to avoid more trouble.”
“Why didn’t you just tell me that in the first place?”
“Because it’s not your problem to solve.”
He raises his chin and looks down at me with assessing, arrogant eyes. “I’m your husband. You’re my wife. If you have a problem, I have a problem.”
I wish he wasn’t so hot when he’s being like this. “Well, right now you’re getting in the way of me solving a problem.”
“I will drive you.”
Arguing won’t get me anywhere. “Fine.”
“Good.”
“Really leaning into the villainy, aren’t you?” I snap and motion for him to lead the way.
“Oh, yes. It’s positively evil of me to pick up all your favorite things for dinner, make you come so many times your legs give out and you almost lose your voice, then surprise you with a special dessert in your private library, but change plans and offer to drive you to help teens in need solely because I want to spend time with you.” He sets the cake on the side table and picks up my jacket. “And it’s an unbelievable level of horridness that I want to make sure you’re warm since it’s getting cooler at night.”
“Or maybe you’re just being a controlling psycho.” I slide my arms into the sleeves, and he frees my hair from under the collar.
“Oh, darling, let’s not kid ourselves. If anyone has control here, it’s you.” He kisses the edge of my jaw. “I would follow you anywhere, even into a burning building.”
I unsuccessfully try to ignore the way my heart flutters. “We should take the cake for Everly and Victor,” I suggest.
“I agree.”
“I can carry it.” I pick up both pieces and follow Connor out to his Rolls-Royce. He opens the door for me, takes the pieces of cake, and waits until I’m buckled in before he passes them back.
We’re out on the street, heading for the café before he asks, “Why didn’t you want to tell me where you were going?”
“Can we talk about this after we deal with the situation?” I get the sense if I tell him before, he’ll blow a gasket, and having him angry while dealing with two parentless teens—one who hates rules and the other who hates broken ones—will be a recipe for disaster.
“You’re keeping something from me.” It’s not a question.
“And you aren’t?” I throw back at him.
