This morning I woke up alone, missing my husband. The office door was cracked and a low light was shining through. I could hear the faint tappity-tap-tap on his keyboard.
I have no idea how long he’d been up, but I missed him.
I wanted him.
And now that I’m officially done with my period, I can do what I’ve been contemplating for days.
I’m feeling good. And that I don’t look like a prize fighter who lost the biggest match of the year helps too.
I got out of bed, took a shower, and am actually putting some extra effort into getting ready for the first time in a week.
Blinking into the mirror, I make the last swipe on my lashes. I twist the tube shut and toss the mascara in the drawer and fluff my hair.
I go straight to the closet full of clothes that I’ve made mine and rip the tank over my head. B is still in his office. His deep voice has been carrying on conversations all morning about real estate and investments, followed by less legitimate conversations about the load the Jackals are delivering soon.
I yank another loose dress off the hanger and tear the tag off it. I turn to my reflection in the floor-length mirror. The thin material hangs on my breasts, my very hard nipples front and center since I’m not wearing a bra.
It’s loose, ties at the shoulders, and hits me at the middle of my thighs. There’s nothing fancy or sexy about it. This is nerve-wracking enough as it is. If he turns me down, at least I’m not walking in there in lingerie or a dress that screams sex.
I can play this off as I got dressed for the day. And since I haven’t bothered with a bra for most of the last week, this isn’t a stretch.
I’ll put one on before I find Rocco. His test is tomorrow, and I promised to quiz him all day, even though he insisted he didn’t need the help.
What else am I going to do?
Besides seduce my husband.
I turn on a bare foot and head straight to his office. “First, he stole from Alamandos, and then he pushed his way into this house. The word is out—Alamandos wants him brought in. He has to know we’re looking for him—he can’t hide forever.”
I hesitate before tapping on the door lightly as I push it open. His eyes jump to me as he speaks, and they’re heated in a way I’m not used to. He’s angry, but he always is when the subject of Nic is on the table.
He must have gotten up earlier than I thought. He’s also ready for the day, though I bet he’s probably wearing underwear. He’s in black trousers with a crisp cadet blue dress shirt.
His cell is plastered to his ear, and every muscle in his body is tense.
Seeing him this way shouldn’t turn me on.
But it does.
I mean, more than I already am.
I’ve been barging in on his work all week, and he’s welcomed me. This isn’t the first phone call I’ve walked in on about Nic Decker.
When I take my first step toward him, he swivels and spreads his thighs. Like a magnet, I walk straight between his legs, and he pulls me onto his lap.
A place I’m getting very comfortable.
His stare is intense as it makes its way up and down my body, hesitating on my breasts and nipples that are now close to his face as he keeps barking orders. “He’s not hiding at his parents’ house. Don’t ask me how I know that, but I’m certain. It’s been a week, and I have my orders from Alamandos. Fifty grand on his head to whomever can deliver him alive and healthy. Put the word out. Someone will give him up.”
I have no idea who’s on the other end of the line, but B doesn’t give them a chance to respond or say goodbye. He hangs up and tosses the cell on the desk next to us.
My index finger trails down his skin where his dress shirt is open at the neck. “Good morning.”
His hand lands on my bare thigh and moves north to my also bare ass. “Good morning.”
“You were gone when I woke up.”
“I wanted to let you sleep.” He squeezes my ass. “Did you miss me?”