“Honestly?” I pause, considering her question as I move to the dresser, where my ring sits waiting for me in a little ceramic dish. “It’s going really well. He’s so easy to be around.”
It’s been nearly two weeks since I moved in, and barring that trip to his family’s house, things have been smooth sailing. Dare I say it, things have been nice.Reallynice. Concerningly so, because the last thing I need is to develop a crush on my husband. Which I…think I might already have.
Oh God. Don’t go there. We’re not ready to admit that.
Even as busy as we both are, we’ve made time to have dinner together every night. We’ve been on walking tours of the neighborhood and wandered Kensington Gardens together. Hell, he even vetted the Pilates studio down the road to make sure they had the type of classes I told him I liked—and then he bought a membership for me. It was so thoughtful that I nearly teared up when he handed me the studio’s brochure. How embarrassing.
It’s amazing that he’s even been able to do all of that with or for me. He’s been slammed, going to meetings with his manager, filming commercials for his remaining sponsors, and wrapping up other postseason business. He’ll be free from F1 obligations after Zaid’s gala tomorrow night and I’m curious to see what it’ll look like for us when he has free time. I won’t have any, considering my schedule is chaos until Christmas, which is barely two weeks away. The holiday season is our busiest and there will be plenty of fires I’ll have to put out—possibly literally.
“And have you decided if you’re going through with the second wedding?”
I blow out a breath as I pick up my ring, watching it sparkle under the lights. “Not yet,” I answer honestly. “Thomas and I need to talk more about it.”
We seem to be operating under the impression that it’ll happen. I sent my measurements to Calais and told Iris I’m a big fan of warm neutral colors, so whatever happens now is out of my hands.
Janelle giggles. I can practically imagine her twirling a curl around her finger. “Can’t wait until you call me to say you finally let that man dick you down six ways to—”
“I’m going now,” I interrupt loudly, not about to entertain that thought—mostly because I’ve already been entertaining it nearly every night while alone in my room. “Call you again soon.”
“Hopefully after you’ve gotten that great British—”
“Goodbye, Janelle.”
I punch the button to end the call before she can finish that terrible pun, then slide my ring on with more force than necessary. Last thing I needed was a reminder of the sexual tension between Thomas and me—and my hand in the dark.
“Sounds like Janelle is supportive of our second wedding.”
I whip around at Thomas’s voice coming from the doorway to my bedroom, not having realized that my door was open or that he was even upstairs. Oh God, the call was on speaker…
“How much of that did you hear?” I hedge, face ablaze. I’ve never been so glad for the dark brown of my skin.
“Enough,” he says, smirking, though it’s just a twist away from being a full-blown grin. “I think there was something about my great British—”
“Nope,” I interrupt, striding forward to push him out of my room. “You’re going to forget you heard a single word of that conversation.”
Thomas laughs and walks backward as I press at his chest. His solid, strong, absolutely perfect—
Ahfuck. I’ve been a horny mess ever since our night spentcuddling for warmth, and that doesn’t seem to be waning any. But the kindness and attention he’s shown me since then have only served to turn me into a simpering mess. I already knew we had a physical connection, but I’ve discovered that I actually like the guy as a person.
It’s a complication I don’t need if we’re going to have a clean break, whether that’s in two months or by the end of next year. We can be friendly, sure, but I don’t need this veering any further intoI have a crush on my husbandterritory.
I stop when Thomas does, though it takes a beat before I pull my hands away, not above feeling him up. He doesn’t mind it, if the glimmer in his eyes means anything.
“I came to see what’s on your schedule for today,” he says. “Busy one?”
I nod and check my watch. “I have about ten minutes before I need to leave for my first property viewing.” I glance up, a question coming to my lips before I can think better of asking. “Do you want to come with me? I could use a local’s opinion on the neighborhoods.” When my brain finally catches up, I quickly add on, “I know you’ve probably got a lot to do, so it’s fine if you can’t.”
The few beats he takes to consider it feel like the longest of my life and I regret asking. Of course he’s too busy to go property hunting with me, what was I thinking?
“I’ll reorganize a few things and tag along.”
My face is somehow hotter than it was before. “Thomas, you don’t have to.”
“I know I don’t have to,” he says. “I want to.”
He’s so casual about it, as if it’s really nothing for him to reschedule his entire day so he can come with me. Such a simple thing and yet it alters my brain chemistry, shooting off those pesky attachment hormones. “Okay,” I choke out.
His smile wrecks my insides, but it gets worse when he holds out a hand to me. “Come downstairs, I have something for you.”
