Total pages in book: 103
Estimated words: 100466 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 502(@200wpm)___ 402(@250wpm)___ 335(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 100466 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 502(@200wpm)___ 402(@250wpm)___ 335(@300wpm)
Is that close or far by New York City standards? "The hospital is one subway stop away."
"That's a lucky coincidence," he says.
I nod. "This roomie, do you have any requirements?"
"I'm flexible on most things. She can have her own room or share mine. I'll cook. But she's got to do the dishes."
"And if she plays loud music?"
"I'm immune to that after twenty-six years with Cass."
My lips curl into a smile. "And sex?"
"Oh, well, of course, we're going to have sex. Isn't that what all roomies do?"
"That's what I hear," I say.
"What do you think?" His eyes meet mine. "Are you interested?"
"How soon can I move in?"
"I'm thinking… as soon as your dad leaves," he says.
"How about sooner?"
He smiles.
"How far is it to your place?"
"Ten minutes."
"How about eleven minutes?" I ask.
"What's the extra minute for?"
"For this." I take his hand, and I pull his body into mine.
I kiss him like I don't know how to live without him.
I do know.
But I'm really glad I don't have to.
Epilogue
Daphne
The warm water of the shower feels good. Too good. I want to linger in the space all night.
But I don't have all night.
I don't have nearly enough time for what I want with the night.
My husband, again and again.
I'm not sure I have time for that at all. Not before our guests arrive.
As usual, I'm behind schedule. Between work, running, tending to all the new sore spots in my body, and prepping the apartment for Laurel's visit, I'm exhausted.
But it's not the sort of tired I felt three years ago. It's not the sort of tired I felt when I was accepted to this program, and I realize shit, I have to tell everyone.
Don't get me wrong. I'm not thrilled to have people in my space. I'm not thrilled to share my time and energy with others.
But I am happy to have family here.
She is family.
Her arch nemesis Rome too.
The memory of their banter brings a smile to my lips. What can I say? I enjoy their back-and-forth. There's a certain old Hollywood patter to it.
I wash and condition my hair, soap, shave. Then I towel dry and slip into something comfortable.
A chemise Jackson bought me for our anniversary.
It barely contains my boobs now. I'm not used to the extra mass. I thought I'd enjoy the feel more than I do. After all, breasts are the symbol of an attractive woman.
But I sorta like my normal average size.
Jackson steps into the bedroom with a smile that's equal parts I love you and I need to have you now.
I want to enjoy both of them.
But I can enjoy the former plenty after his family arrives. Right now, I need the latter—
I pull my gorgeous, suit-clad husband into a long, slow kiss.
He wraps his arms around me, kissing back with everything he has.
He pulls back with a sigh. "I have bad news."
"You have to work after this?" I don't mind it, really. He's been working a handful of late nights launching his new business. I miss him when he's busy, sure, but I enjoy my alone time too. And he always makes it up to me.
And besides—
He needs to do it now. Before we both have far less time.
He shakes his head. "Worse."
"What could be worse?"
"Laurel and Rome's flight got in early. They're almost here."
"How could a flight into JFK get in early?" Doesn't that defy the laws of space and time? Anytime I've flown into JFK early—and I've done it a lot now, between trips back home and work trips—I've had to sit there, in the airplane, as we taxied.
And I thought LAX was a bad airport.
"They'll be here in ten minutes," he says.
"I can make that work." I tug at his tie.
He smiles in that pure evil way of his. The way that means I'm going to torture you forever. "I can't."
I shoot him an exaggerated pout. "You'd deny your wife?"
"I get off on denying my wife. You know that, princess." This time, he pulls me into a long, slow kiss.
"Five minutes," I negotiate.
He shakes his head.
I take matters into my own hands. I sit on the bed, roll the chemise to my waist, and touch myself.
Like he always does, he stands there, eyes wide, body tuned to mine, throbbing with desire and endless patience.
He watches.
I come for his viewing pleasure.
It's fast.
Too fast.
And not satisfying enough. I only want him more. But I love playing this game with him too. I love this life we're building.
His firm. My career as a sex researcher. And soon—
His phone buzzes. "They're out front."
"You should wash up."
He nods I know. "Do you think they've killed each other yet?"
"He might be dead, yeah," I say. "But you'll help Laurel bury the body."
"I would, normally," he says. "But I'm not sure you can spare me anymore."
"You're a lawyer. You know how to get away with it."