Total pages in book: 52
Estimated words: 50828 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 254(@200wpm)___ 203(@250wpm)___ 169(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 50828 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 254(@200wpm)___ 203(@250wpm)___ 169(@300wpm)
For long minutes, I suck, lave, nip, and tease her sensitive nub until I see all the right signs. “Give me your orgasm. Let go, and I’ll make sure you sleep so good.”
“Nathan…yes. Yes.” She writhes and wriggles and lifts herself to my mouth where my greedy tongue just can’t get enough of her taste. “Yes!”
She explodes, and I lap her up, drawing every ounce of pleasure out of her I can before rising to loom over her limp form. She lifts lids heavy with satisfaction and smiles. “You’re spoiling me.”
“I’m trying.” I sit back on her thighs and rub more of the lotion on her neck, shoulders, breasts, and stomach, gratified at her sigh of contentment. “Feel relaxed now?”
“And replete, like I don’t have a care in the world, except that someone has given me so many orgasms my muscles down there feel like limp noodles.”
I laugh. “I suggest you get used to that.”
“OMG, I’d ask if you’re serious, but—”
“I don’t joke about sex.”
She smiles while her eyes close as if sleep is moments from taking her.
“I don’t want you worrying about anything, baby girl. Give your problems to me. I’ll put them on my shoulders.”
Her lids flutter open again, and a little frown appears between her brows. “What did you do earlier tonight that put you in such a good mood?”
“After I dropped you off here, I visited Eric. We had a…chat. You won’t be hearing from him again. Ever. I’d bet on that.”
Her frown deepens as she rises to her elbows. “Did you threaten him?”
“With everything he holds dear.” I leave out the part where he nearly pissed himself. That was for me, for my enjoyment. Isabella only needs to know one other thing. “He will never put his hands on you again. But if he tries, if he reaches out to you—despite the fact I made sure he was blocked in every way he might try to reach you—”
“You did that?”
I nod. “While you slept that first night we were together, following the company Christmas party.”
She blinks sleepily. “How? My phone is locked.”
“I have ways.”
“Of course you do.” She yawns. “Thank you. I’m so much happier without him.”
Those words make everything I’ve done to reach this moment worthwhile. “You’re very welcome, wife.”
“Are you trying to make me fall in love with you?” she slurs out. “If you are, I’m afraid it’s working.”
CHAPTER TWELVE
December 24
Morning comes, and I stretch beside my sleeping bride, press a soft kiss to her forehead, and climb out of bed, her words last night still ringing in my ears.
Are you trying to make me fall in love with you? If you are, I’m afraid it’s working.
It’s Christmas Eve, and most of Force Financial will be on vacation, but I need to catch up on my gym habit, some last minute shopping, and work that crossed my desk while I was in Tokyo. Then…I don’t know. What are Isabella’s holiday traditions?
After an hour of pumping iron, I shower and grab a few things at the mall for Steve, Laurel, and the kids. But I meander for a long while, trying to find something that will make my wife’s eyes light up. I find nothing special.
Finally, I admit defeat and reach out to the one person I know who can help.
“Nathan?” Jen answers on the third ring, sounding surprised.
“Merry Christmas.”
“Back at you. Izzy okay?”
“Isabella is great. She’s perfect, actually.”
“You’ve got it bad…”
I don’t refute her. For better or worse, she’s right. “It’s our first holiday together, and I don’t know what she enjoys during the season. Does she bake? Shop? Watch Hallmark movies? How can I make this the best Christmas she’s ever had?”
“Oh, um…” Jen sighs. “She doesn’t really celebrate.”
“What?” I’m not the most religious guy, but I always hit a Christmas Eve service, then enjoy a frosty Christmas morning with coffee, a big breakfast, and opening presents before a decadent dinner with my family. But it’s a time of peace, closeness, and joy. And Isabella doesn’t partake? “Why?”
“You don’t know?”
Clearly, I’ve overlooked a detail. “Sorry.”
“Her mom died on Christmas Eve five years ago.”
The bottom drops out of my stomach. How did I not remember today was the anniversary? “Fuck.”
“I didn’t think she’d tell you. Somewhere in her head, she’s convinced that she should be over the loss by now. But every Christmas Eve, she holes up, eats crap, and hides until after the holiday.”
“What can I do? It doesn’t sound like I can buy her anything that will make her happy.”
“You can’t. My suggestion? Don’t let her be by herself. The day her mom died, I was already away with my parents for Christmas. To this day, I regret not being there for her, especially because her dad never showed up. She spent the holiday at the funeral home, sobbing alone.”
Jesus, that makes my heart wrench. Fuck work. I can catch up later. My wife needs me. “Thank you.”