“That doesn’t surprise me.”
I lightly smack him on his arm, quietly relishing the feel of his hard muscles.
“I don’t have anything to wear,” he says. “Just my clothes from yesterday.”
I think for a moment. “There’s an awesome little cafe down the street. Great brunch. No dress code. I’ll wear something terrible so you won’t be the only bad dresser there.”
I pull on some sweats and run into the living room to grab a tie for my hair. As I wrangle my messy hair into submission, I find the annulment papers on the floor of my living room. I pick it up and stare at it.
It looks out of place, now that I won’t be needing it anymore. With a small smile of satisfaction, I tear it up into little pieces and dump it into the trash.
Back in my bedroom, Luke has put on his crumpled shirt and pants. He strikes a pose. “How do I look? Good enough for us not to get thrown out?”
I pretend to appraise him with a critical eye. “Crumpled shirts are a bit last season, but you make it work. Come on, lets go.”
We wander down the street, hand in hand, giggling and laughing with each other. We probably look like crazy people—bed hair, no makeup, wearing pajamas and wilted office wear, but I don’t care. I only have eyes for him . . . and my breakfast.
We wolf down our avocado toast like people who haven’t eaten for days . . . which, I guess we are, really. And it’s only when I finish my meal that I come to a realization.
Not even a hint of morning sickness. In fact, I feel . . . good. Really damn good. Not just mentally, but physically as well. It’s like a weight has been lifted off, and I haven’t felt so content and at peace for a really long time.
We eat and we drink, we chat and we laugh, and we stare at each other over the little table, surrounded by other diners that I never even register.
There’s just me, and my husband. My for-real, not-going-to-get-divorced husband.
And I’ve never been so happy.
Luke
We arrive back at Tessa’s apartment after breakfast, both a little full from the meals we’ve eaten. I feel like some proud caveman, having provided for my woman and our baby. I’ve got to say . . . it makes me want to drag her into a hut and have my way with her.
As we walk to her front door, I cast her a glance—messy ponytail and loose sweatpants, but somehow so unbelievably sexy. She looks like she belongs in bed.
“Now that we’ve got brunch taken care of, it’s time to pick up where we left off this morning,” I say as I place a hand around her waist and squeeze her flesh, giving her a preview of what I want to do to her tempting little body.
“Oh, I don’t know . . .” Tessa looks back at me as she opens the door to her apartment, a small smile on her full, juicy lips, a different kind of hunger in her eyes this time.
My cock stiffens a little at the glance she throws me. I swear that seductive, knowing half-smile on her face will be my undoing. She’s got me wrapped around the finger she beckons me with.
Inside the elevator, I slip my hand under her old, ratty shirt, letting the heat of her skin scorch my fingers. “Fuck, you’re so sexy I could just take you right here.”
“Luke, there’s a camera,” she giggles, pointing her chin at the ceiling as we ride up higher and higher.
“They can’t see what I’m doing with your back against the wall.” I drag my fingers up her spine.
“Luke, hey.” Tessa grabs my wrist and pulls my hand down just as I reach the back of her bra. She throws me a seductive smile even as she says, “Be a good boy.”
No way I can be good around her. She’s asking for the impossible.
“Okay. But as soon as I’ve got you alone . . .” I let my voice trail off as I place my hand over her waist again, separated from her skin by the cotton of her shirt.
I can barely stop myself from pouncing on her as we walk down the hallway, her quickening her pace to get away from my touch (Luke, the neighbors might see us) and me catching up to her (I don’t care).
As she turns her key in the door, turning her back on me, I swipe aside the end of her ponytail and kiss her neck, wrapping my arms around her and pulling her against me so she can feel the hard-on tenting my pants. She fumbles, her breathing heavy as a shiver runs through her.
“Luke, the neigh—” A gasp interrupts her sentence as I sink my teeth down on the back of her neck.