Total pages in book: 140
Estimated words: 138003 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 690(@200wpm)___ 552(@250wpm)___ 460(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 138003 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 690(@200wpm)___ 552(@250wpm)___ 460(@300wpm)
“They were purple. I’ve always hated that color.”
“Not only that but you also taught yourself to ride. All by yourself, without anyone’s help.”
“It took me ages. Not to mention most of the skin from my knees and hands.”
“But you got back on. Because you’re Lavender. Anxiety or not, I’ve never met anyone like you. I wish you could see how special you are. The way you worried about seeing Whit, and the way you handled him.”
Her mouth drops comically open.
“Dangerous,” I murmur as she allows me to close it with my index finger under her chin.
“You sneaky thing. You listened in on our conversation?”
“A little,” I admit. “I wanted to make sure he wasn’t being an asshole to you. If he had been.” I shrug. “I know you wouldn’t have appreciated it, but I would’ve stepped in.”
“You’re right. I wouldn’t have liked that, but I would’ve understood.”
“Because you would do the same for me. For anyone. Because that’s the person you are.”
“I’m perhaps a little more partial to you than I am random people,” she says.
“And I’m grateful for that.” I give a soft laugh. “But what I heard told me you didn’t need me there. You had it all on your own. You are strong and resilient, and you are a survivor, Lavender. There isn’t anything you can’t do. Your brother knows that and said as much. You need to see that, too.”
“Thank you.” She tries to scowl, though how can she when her eyes sparkle? I begin to lower my head, craving a taste of my unstoppable wife, when the sound of shattering glass freezes us in place.
“Oops!” calls a little voice. “I might need a little help in here!”
41
LAVENDER
“So. Much. Butt. Stuff!”
From behind me, Raif’s laughter sounds so smutty. “Was that an invitation?”
“It was not!” I complain—and laugh. “Stop touching my bum,” I insist as I try to shimmy along the kitchen counter. Instead, his arms wrap around my waist, and he pulls my bum into the cradle of his thighs. “What is it with you getting handsy when my hands are busy?” Leaning forward, I drop the bag of flour to the countertop, where a white cloud billows up. I cough, fanning it away, and shiver as Raif presses his lips to my neck.
“Just an opportunist, I guess. But you know, when I have my hands on your ass, what I really like your hands full of is…”
“Yours,” I say, tuning in his arms for a little mutual butt-grab.
He makes a growly kind of groan, moving his hips against mine. My husband is big into physical touch. Compliments, too. I’ve learned to know when he's about to tell me I’m pretty because his eyes turn a little more catlike, and his mouth hooks up at one side. As though he’s having very dirty thoughts.
A sure sign of good times coming later. Literally.
And he’s so embarrassing, always demanding people agree with him when he says stuff like, “Doesn’t Lavender look gorgeous today? Isn’t Lavender’s hair so pretty?”
Not random people in the street, thank God. People in the house. People who work for him. And the poor gallery staff. Basically, people who’ll agree with him.
Except Primrose. Poor Primrose. She’s taken to fake gagging in the place of an answer.
“Lordy Lord.” I sigh, dropping my head to one side. Neck kisses. He discovered my kryptonite.
“I think we should go back to bed.”
“We just got out of it,” I protest. “I promised Daisy I’d make pancakes.”
“Let her wear a hat like other kids.”
I burst out laughing. “No throwing them today because you’re doing the washing up.”
“If you make it worth my while.”
“I might just be down for a little manhandling while your hands are all soapy.”
“Husband handling,” he growls. “Manhandling sounds a little too communal.”
“Only you.” I slide my hand between us, my fingers gripping his hardness. “Oh, you are eager. Too bad we’re going to the park after pancakes.”
“We need a new nanny.”
“I think you should ask Daisy about that. She likes things the way they are. Leo picking her up from school and an hour or two in the gallery with me.”
“Come into the pantry with me for a minute.”
“Not a chance,” I answer, flattening my hand over his bulge.
“I have something you want to see.” He swallows thickly, flexing into my hand.
“I’ve already seen it,” I whisper. “Twice this morning. Up close and personal.” I make to pull away when his hold tightens.
“It’ll only take a minute.”
“Then I’m definitely not interested,” I say with a laugh.
“Princess.” I groan, and Raif digs his hands into my waist. I laugh unexpectedly, my arms flailing and knocking the bag of flour to the ground.
“Leave it,” he says, but I’m already out of his arms.
“No tickling.” I point my finger at him. “That’s the rule.”
“Is it?” He takes a sauntering step closer, and my insides flip. He’s the big cat, all slink and prowl as he eyes a juicy gazelle he’s planning to devour.