“But I’m desperate for my next fix,” he whines.
“And your desperation will only continue if you don’t leave me alone and let me finish.”
“But why would I leave you alone to finish?” he croons, stalking over to me.
He leans down and grazes his lips over mine, but doesn’t deepen the kiss.
And when I open my eyes—since I’d closed them, ready to relax into the kiss—he’s looking at my computer screen.
I give him a shove and stand up. “Are you serious right now? Not even three months of marriage and you want my books more than me?”
His eyes fly wide. “No. Never. Literally never. Darlin’, you’re my real-life love story.”
I put my hand to his chest. “Don’t youdarlin’me.”
He dramatically falls to his knees. “But baby, I’m sorry. You’re just so brilliant. I couldn’t help myself.”
“Mhm.” I turn and walk toward the door of the bedroom, but he chases after me, coming to a stop in front of the door.
“I’m not letting you leave this room thinking I want anything less than every single inch of you.”
He steps in, brushing his lips over my neck.
“Oh, really? And who says you’re in charge?” I tilt my neck to give him more access, and right when he’s let his guard down, I spin around and bolt through the bathroom.
When I spill out into the hallway, he’s right on my heels. I squeal when he grabs me by the waist, twisting his hand into my shorts. But that’s a mistake because with a shimmy of my hips, the shorts slip down and I jump out of them before he can grab me again.
“You think that’s not exactly what I wanted?” he calls.
When I glance back at him, he’s stripping his shirt off.
Okay, maybe I get those books where the masked guy chases the girl into the woods now.
I run around the kitchen island, and he skids after me, but the second time I try, he loops back around and we almost collide in the living room.
He crushes his mouth over mine, stealing the squeak I let out.
Pinning me against the couch, he rocks his hips, grinding his hard-on into me.
“So much better than the books.”
He slips his fingers inside my underwear,brushing my clit.
“Justin…”
The crack of a loud knock sounds against the door.
Justin throws his head back and groans in frustration. “Nobody’s home.”
“I’m from WellAlways Insurance Corporation. I need to speak with Justin Ayers and Jade Jackson.”
We glance at each other, then down at our clothes. Or lack thereof.
“Stay behind me,” Justin says, swinging the door open, but only a crack.
“Mr. Ayers. My name is Rich. I’m an insurance investigator for WellAlways Insurance. I’m here because we received some information that your marriage may have been solely in an attempt to defraud our company into paying for Ms. Jackson’s healthcare. Is she available?”
Oh, shit.
