In a Rush

Chapter 27

chapter twenty-seven

Emme

Today’s Learning Objective:

Students will engage in structured play.

I couldn’t explain it but I’d needed to wander around a grocery store this afternoon. Ryan had a prepared meal service and a grocery shopping service, and all of it was fine but I left school knowing I wanted something more.

Bowen pushed the cart after picking me up from school and we talked about his granny’s pork butt recipe. It did sound pretty great but Ryan was training and traveling this week and Ines was never at the condo so I had no one to feed.

The strange part was that I wanted to feed someone. I hadn’t felt that in a long time.

I returned home with a whole bunch of random—a ton of seasonal veggies, a wild rice blend, some fun herbs and spices, and a perfectly crusty loaf of grainy bread. I didn’t know what I was going to do with it. There was no recipe or meal that came to mind but it was all too good to pass up.

I unpacked the items and smoothed my hands over the surface of the countertop. I’d lived here for more than a month but I hadn’t cooked anything other than reheating leftovers or toasting a bagel. The meal service helped with that but also, I hadn’t wanted to cook anything. The desire wasn’t there anymore.

But now, seeing the veggies and herbs on the counter, I felt something.

Then my phone rang and my mother’s face flashed on the screen, and all those feelings dried up. I grabbed a sparkling water before answering. “Hi, Mom.”

“You would not believe that shoot I’ve had,” she said, the breathless words coming quickly. Either on the treadmill or spin bike. Mom never did just one thing. “We can usually count on Aruba but it rained for twenty-one days straight. They had to fly us to St. Lucia just to find some sun. It was an enormous improvement as far as the weather went but they clearly weren’t prepared for a production of this size.”

I strolled out to the deck. The shoots for her reality show always had these issues. Not enough drama on-screen, gotta add some acts of god to the mix. “That must’ve been tough.”

“I went weeks without reliable cell service,” she said. “I would’ve called sooner if I’d known you were engaged. Congratulations!”

“Oh, yeah, thank you.” I glanced at my ring. It was weird being married but keeping it a secret. I kept forgetting that no one else knew. “I didn’t want to bother you while you were taping.”

“Bother me? You’re my daughter and you’re getting married . It’s no bother, Emme.” There was a voice in the background announcing an increase in incline coming up. “I was just so surprised that I had to hear about it from that person your father married. She called to ask about my availability. Were you aware she’s throwing you a little party?”

All at once, I felt like a shaken bottle of soda with pressure gaining force as it gathered at the top. My mother knew exactly what she was doing with phrases like that person and little party and my availability . She drew the lines and I was allowed to color inside them. Anything outside those lines was a betrayal of the worst kind. There was not an inch in between.

“Yeah, Danielle mentioned that,” I said.

“I politely informed her that the mother of the bride would be the only one to host a gathering,” Mom went on, still breathing hard but her sharp tone was enough to send a shiver of dread through me. This could very easily turn into her ranting about Danielle for two hours. And I was complicit. I’d spoken to her, of all the inexcusable things. “You just know anything she did would be so tacky. Not a drop of class in that girl. I really hope you didn’t give her the impression you’d attend.”

Whatever Danielle was planning, my mother would plan to double it. Triple it. Make it so huge and excessive that I disappeared from it entirely but she emerged with the satisfaction of winning a game where she was the only one keeping score.

Hell, she was the only one playing the game. Danielle did a good job of staying out of Mom’s dance space but I also knew she didn’t worry about anyone else’s opinion of her. She said it was none of her business and that she’d never get out of bed if she tried to care about making everyone happy.

“I didn’t really commit to anything,” I said, aiming for a disinterested tone.

“That’s a relief.” After blowing out a labored breath, she went on. “I’m so happy for you, darling. It’s such an exciting time. We’ll have to put together a list of designers you like for your dress. Custom, of course. Everyone will want to know who you’re wearing. Show your father and his child bride how well you’ve done for yourself.”

“Those things cost more than my entire salary.”

She scoffed. “That’s what you have a fiancé for, my dear.”

I took a long sip of water instead of responding.

My mother did well for herself these days. The reality shows, brand deals, and appearances gave her a fine income of her own, and her current husband Dell had money like Scrooge McDuck—he could swim in it. But it hadn’t always been that way.

The child support situation from my dad wasn’t great. He always gave me lavish gifts—clothes, electronics, a car when I turned sixteen—but he’d fought to pay my mother as little as possible. Things were worse after her second marriage to Gary, who couldn’t keep a penny to his name. She learned some hard lessons and went into her third marriage with an excellent prenup. When that whole thing went to hell, she left with a golden parachute.

If I ever asked her for money, she’d help me. But my mother wasn’t one to offer. There was no trust fund, no allowance. Not from her.

There was a trust fund from my father though, one he’d restructured to prevent me from accessing until I was forty-five because he wanted to keep my mother away from it as long as possible.

My mother had never forgiven him and I had some complicated feelings too, though it was the size and force of her reaction to that move rather than the events leading to it that hurt me most of all.

The trust fund wasn’t amended until my last year of college, a few months before I was scheduled to gain access to it when I turned twenty-two. It came after a Christmas spent on a private island with my father, Danielle, and my half brothers. Though I didn’t share the holiday with them since I was shipped home early.

I still couldn’t remember what I’d said to set my father off. Probably some snarky comment or a petty complaint. Nothing that should’ve resulted in him throwing a heavy-bottomed rocks glass at my face and splitting my cheek.

By the time Danielle came back from the beach with the boys, glittering shards of crystal covered the tile floors. He hadn’t stopped after the first glass. He went on screaming that I was spoiled and ungrateful. That I was turning into the same sort of manipulative whore my mother was.

My father was quick to anger and I’d heard all of it before but something broke in me that day. Any ability I’d had to tolerate that relationship dried up while blood and tears dripped down my face. Any connection we’d shared was severed when he told Danielle to get me out of his sight.

He’d barked orders at her about letting me find my own way home but she didn’t listen. Somehow, his rage always bounced right off her. She fixed my face and promised to fix my father too, even if he was a mule who wouldn’t change easy. She booked me a first-class seat, swore she’d do everything in her power to make it right, and hugged me harder than anyone had before.

A few weeks later, the letter arrived with a chunk of legal documents. He apologized for losing his temper though quickly transitioned to telling me I’d made inexcusably poor choices by pursuing education as a degree and sticking with it. Since I’d declined his invitation to work for him, he believed it was time for me to live with the consequences—and do it without the aid of a trust fund.

I hadn’t spoken to him since that holiday. He’d left voicemails though I didn’t listen to all of them. The first year or two, I deleted everything. I was too scarred, too exhausted from carving him out of my heart and cauterizing those wounds to try. But then Danielle insisted he was making changes. He was seeing a therapist, trying meds, cutting back on the alcohol. Some of the messages sounded like he was reading a script or he’d called to fulfill a requirement. Danielle’s or the therapist’s, I didn’t know. He promised to do better, to clean up his act, to fix his mistakes. I wasn’t sure he knew what all of those things entailed. Others were emotional. In the last year, he’d cried in all of them. It sounded like he’d discovered that one parent taking out their vendetta against the other parent on the kid wasn’t healthy for anyone.

Sometimes, he suggested he’d be willing to turn over the trust fund if I visited him in Chicago. Maybe it was pointless to leave that money on the table but I couldn’t bring myself to go crawling back to him. If he wanted to fix things, it wouldn’t start with me making the first move.

Though the money would’ve been nice. It would’ve helped a lot, especially living in an unconscionably expensive town like Boston—and on a teacher’s salary. But I managed. And through it all, my mother’s primary contribution was outrage. There were endless tirades about his desire to use money to punish anyone who crossed him, and convoluted legal strategies she’d invented from talking to someone married to a lawyer. She couldn’t let it go. Couldn’t stop with her vendetta against him.

And now she wanted me to use Ryan’s money to land another hit. As if any of it mattered.

I knew she was thinking Ryan would see to it that I had a custom gown. She knew what he earned, what his endorsements were worth. She was more plugged into the game than most of the analysts on sports networks. Nothing off the rack for the highest-paid player’s bride.

“I’ll think about it,” I said.

“It’s so sweet that you ended up with Ryan after all these years,” she drawled. “But don’t let that fool you. They all cheat. It’s never a matter of if, it’s when. They just can’t help it. You wouldn’t believe the amount of women throwing themselves at these boys.”

I dropped my head back. The fizzy pressure inside me slowly turned acidic as it sloshed in my belly. “Good to know.”

“I don’t say any of this to take away from your happiness or discourage you one bit,” she went on without a hint of irony. “You know firsthand how it is. This one won’t be any different.”

I didn’t want to argue with her. I couldn’t. There was no sense in telling her that Ryan simply wasn’t like my father or any of my stepdads. She’d never believe it. She’d have too many examples to back up her claims. And the sad part was that I had seen it all.

“I’ll put you in touch with my lawyer. We can’t have you ending up in the middle of nowhere without two pennies to your name, the same way your father left us.”

“I think I’m okay on the lawyer front,” I said. “I’ll take care of it.”

“I started finding little things,” she said, ignoring me. “First it was earrings. Then it was a silk scarf. A diamond watch. I thought he was saving them for my birthday or just a surprise for some rainy day.” She drew in a breath and I could almost see the sad, faraway look she’d get in her eyes whenever she talked about the end of her first marriage. “But then my birthday would pass and the trinkets would be gone, and I knew he’d never meant them for me.”

My stomach pitched and I had to press a hand to my mouth to talk myself down from the sudden wave of nausea. I knew all about trinkets that hadn’t been meant for me.

“You can tell yourself he’s different,” she said. “He might be. Until he’s not.”

“Mom—”

“I know you’re happy now, honey, and I’m happy for you. But you have to be smart too. Don’t make my mistakes.”

I let her talk through the rest of her workout, murmuring along as she debated the best months for a wedding and which wedding planners lived up to their reputations. Through it all, I told myself Ryan was different. I was different.

And this marriage was different too because it wasn’t meant to last.

Or so I’d thought.

“I like this for you, but it’s not going to fit in the chest.” I pulled a dress from the rack and handed it to Jamie. “I have another one in here somewhere that’s sort of a wrap dress, but still fancy. That style might work better for you.”

“I could always stuff my bra,” Jamie said, holding the dresses up to herself and studying her reflection in the walk-in closet mirror. She volunteered with a community arts program and one of their major donors was hosting a special event. “Get some of those rubbery cutlets and shove ’em in there. I might do that just to see some poor dude’s reaction to it at the end of the night.”

“Or you could get the dress altered.”

“It’s your dress,” she cried.

“I don’t mind.” I handed her the wrap dress. “I have more than I could possibly use and I’d rather see you wearing it than leave it to catch dust.”

She gave the mirror a side-eye glance. “Still don’t think I want to get your dress tailored.”

“Try them on,” I said as I heard the house phone ring, “and decide if you like them first. Then we’ll make them fit.”

I grabbed the wall phone in my bedroom and told the building’s concierge to come up with the package they’d received for me. I still kept my things in the upstairs room. I was comfortable up here and Ryan’s schedule was packed with endorsement work, business meetings, and conditioning for the upcoming season. From now until the start of training camp in July, he was on the road four or five nights a week. It made little sense to move myself downstairs, even if the bathtub was exceptional.

I ducked back into the closet—a room almost twice the size of my bedroom in the old North End apartment—and found Jamie frowning at her reflection. The dress was way too big in the chest, but everything else fit perfectly. “I have to run to the door to get a delivery,” I said, “but that’s adorable on you and I’m going to kick and scream if you don’t take it.”

“If only I had your knockers,” she called after me.

“Trust me, you don’t want this kind of trouble,” I shouted back.

A buzz sounded at the door as I descended the stairs. The concierge insisted on bringing it inside for me—it really freaked them out whenever I tried to carry my own packages up from the front desk or the door—and I sent him off with a cranberry macadamia nut cookie.

Audrey had sent me home with a dozen, as if I needed to be alone with that many cookies. I still didn’t know how she found the time to bake something new from scratch every day. I considered it an accomplishment if I made it through without an afternoon nap.

“Anything good?” Jamie asked as she came into the kitchen, one dress slung over her arm.

When I didn’t respond, she pointed to the box on the island. “Oh, I don’t know.” I glanced at the mailing label and realized it was addressed to me. I didn’t remember ordering anything, but that hardly mattered. Not a day went by without us receiving engagement gifts or promotional items from Ryan’s endorsements or yet another soldering iron for Ines. “Not sure,” I murmured, tearing into the package.

Another box sat inside the cardboard box, this one an elegant matte black with a soft satin ribbon and an envelope tucked under the bow. The card wasn’t signed though I had a good idea who it was from.

Wifey,

I’ll always keep my promises to you.

“Well, isn’t that precious,” Jamie said, reading over my shoulder. “What’s the promise? What did he send?”

Once I had the ribbon untied and the black lid removed, I found a bunch of small boxes in different shapes and sizes. All tied with the same creamy ribbon. I tore into the first one and yelped when I found a thick, curved vibrator staring up at me.

I slammed the lid back in place. “Oh my god,” I whispered to myself. “I can’t believe he did this.”

“Okay, so y’all make some spicy promises,” Jamie drawled, peeking into the black box.

“No, no, it’s from the other weekend when I almost ended up in prison because we confused a vibrator for a weapon of mass destruction.”

“Well, that’s been known to happen.”

“And Ryan promised he’d replace the vibe.” I motioned to the package. The one I realized was full of sex toys. “But he can’t just send one, can he? He has to clear out a whole store.”

“Sounds like fun. What else do we have in here?”

I rubbed my temples as Jamie set each individual box on the countertop. About twenty in all, bringing an increasingly deep blush to my face and neck as I loosened the ribbons and discovered the adult treasures waiting for me.

“He’s in Toronto this week,” I said, as if that explained anything. “Shooting an ad campaign for a car company. Or maybe it’s the hair care products? Or is it both? Probably both. He likes to cram in as much as he can.”

“Really,” she said, holding up a butt plug with a sparkly gem on the end and a set of nipple clamps that were probably solid gold. “Never would’ve guessed.”

“That’s not what I meant,” I said

She held up two more vibrators. “This is high-end shit. I hope you appreciate what you have here.”

“I’ll do my best.” I closed the lids and gathered the discarded ribbons. I eyed one item before putting it away. “What’s this about?”

Jamie glanced over at the series of round, black bands of varying sizes. “Cock rings,” she said with a slow nod. “Keeps things… robust . Makes it last a little longer.”

“What made him think we needed that?” I asked myself. “I’m going to have a talk with this boy when he’s done for the day.”

With a cackle, Jamie grabbed the dress she’d left on a kitchen stool. “You have plenty to amuse yourself with here, so I’ll be on my way. Thank you again for helping me find something to wear. You’re my savior.”

“No cutlets! Get it tailored,” I said. “Don’t you dare bring it back to me.”

She came in for a side hug. “Have fun with all this. Or with pestering him. Maybe that’s part of it. Whatever works for you, sweet pea.”

When the door closed behind Jamie, I reached for a cookie and surveyed these gifts. Some were surprising—the plugs and clamps weren’t on my bingo card—while others were very interesting. There were several toys similar to the one I’d lost to the Air Marshals, and they all looked like a good time. A few clit toys in wacky shapes. Strawberries, flowers, butterflies. They looked like something I’d enjoy. And there were a bunch of traditional vibes too. No stone unturned, not with these sex toys.

I bit into the cookie. “This husband of mine.”

I was in bed when Ryan finished for the day. He sent a text saying he was heading back to his hotel and then another asking if it was too late to talk. I laughed at that and glanced at the black box I’d left on the end of the bed.

“Not tonight,” I murmured as I shot back a response.

He called a few minutes later, the screen mostly dark as he walked into his hotel room. “How’s my wife tonight?”

I heard him flop into a high-backed chair and heave out a weary breath. He sounded tired. A light on the other side of the room cast his features in a soft, golden glow, though his eyes were still shadowed by the inky night.

“I’m all right,” I said. “Long shoot?”

“Really fucking long.” His hand went to the back of his neck. I watched the pull of his biceps as he kneaded the tension there. “But I want to hear about you. How was your day, Muggsy?”

I gave him a rundown on my class and their mid-week squirreliness, Jamie shopping my closet, and Audrey’s cookies. He’d like them. He was a fan of throwing cranberries into every last thing. Such a New England boy. Then I went into detail about the amount of time Ines was spending with Jakobi (a lot) and Grace’s ongoing debates with herself about ten different wedding issues (to distract herself from real issues).

“Anything else?” he asked, clearly pecking around for mention of his delivery.

“That covers it,” I said, propping the phone up against a pillow beside me. “I want to hear about your stuff now. What did you do today?”

He ran a hand through his hair as he let out a dry laugh. “I sent you something.”

“Oh, yeah, that.” I bobbed my head. “It was delivered this afternoon.”

“I’m aware of that.”

“Hmm.” I grinned, prodding him to continue.

He stared at me for a long moment. “I was notified the minute you received it. I’ve spent the past”—he turned his wrist to catch the time—“six hours thinking about you opening that package.” His voice was suddenly low, rougher. I realized I’d pressed my thighs together and balled my fingers in the sheets at some point. “Tell me what you think of your new toys, wife.”

“I think you’re a little unhinged with all this,” I said.

“ Unhinged is having a vibrator confiscated by the air marshals.” He stared at me, my shadowy room to the midnight quiet of his suite. “Do you have a favorite?”

“You can’t possibly think I dropped everything to try them all out. Just one after the other, all day long. Nothing but me and my new toys.” I stared at him for a moment, basking in this opportunity to torture him. “Or is that exactly what you’re thinking?”

He tipped his head back against the chair, the long line of his throat exposed and his lips parted. “ Em .”

I wanted to climb into his lap and lick my way up that neck. “Yes?”

“Tell me.” His groan echoed so loud, I almost believed he was in the room with me. “Please. I’m dying here. ”

I climbed out from under the covers and dragged the box closer. I turned the screen to give him a look. “I was too busy organizing these items to try them out. And learning what half of them are,” I added.

“Then you should explore,” he growled.

I laughed. “What?”

“Pick one and give it a try,” he said, his words clipped, “while I listen.”

Another laugh. This one felt like a crumpled ball of tinfoil. “I…I’m not sure I can.”

“I know you can.”

I waved a hand at the box. “These things haven’t been charged.”

He shook his head, giving me a sharp smile that felt like his fingertips running down my spine. “Baby, did you think I’d send you toys only to have you wait to use them until they’re charged? Fuck no. I wanted you to be able to play.”

“Then how—” I didn’t finish that sentence. I wasn’t sure I wanted to know how that worked.

“White glove service,” he said as if that explained everything.

“What if Ines comes home?” I asked, suddenly breathless. She divided her time between work, kung-fu, and Jakobi, but I didn’t want to bet on that. “She could walk in.”

“Explain to me then how you managed to get yourself off once a day without Ines interrupting any of those times,” he said. “And in that postage stamp of an apartment.”

“I don’t know how it worked, Ryan,” I snapped, all out of patience. “I just know that it did.”

He arched a brow, gazing at me in challenge for a moment before saying, “The purple one? With the curved end? I think you might like that.”

It was exactly like the toy I’d lost. As I turned the package over, I realized it was much better than my old toy. All of these were. No random vibes from Amazon that didn’t hold a charge and would consistently die at the most crucial moments. These were ultra-premium sex toys, just like Jamie said. I was pretty sure one of those plugs was solid platinum.

“What are you thinking, Em?”

I made a vague noise while I sifted through the toys. “Did you pick all of these out? By yourself? Or did you put an assistant on the job?”

“I spent hours choosing those for you. I read all the specifications, the reviews. I thought about you reaching for them while I was away—and then showing me how they worked when I came home. But I don’t think I can wait that long.” With a growl, he scraped a hand down his chest and I felt that touch. “Close the door. Lock it.”

I didn’t think before crossing the room, flattening a palm to the panel, and then flipping the lock. Didn’t consider what I was doing when I opened the package and cleaned off the purple toy with the enclosed wipes. They smelled like cucumber and aloe, which was maddeningly pleasant, and yep, this bad boy was fully charged.

“Take off your clothes,” he said. Another order. Another growl .

I set my phone on the side table while I yanked off my pajamas, giving Ryan a fantastic view of the ceiling and pulling another impatient rumble from his chest.

“Calm down,” I said.

“Get in bed, Emmeline.”

I slipped under the covers and propped up my phone beside me, bringing my husband back into view. “It’s funny,” I started, shifting against the pillows to get comfortable, “how I haven’t heard you unzip anything yet.”

His smile in the dim light seemed dangerous. “Is that what you want, wifey?”

A startled, breathy noise panted out of me. I felt tight everywhere, desperately so—and silly too. Like I could do any outrageous thing and I’d get another one of those rare, precious smiles from him. I could say anything and he’d beg me for more. That I’d always be safe with him.

And I knew I adored this man. That he was mine. That it didn’t matter how any of this had started or where it was going because it was real and true, and he belonged to me. He’d always belonged to me.

“I love you,” I said, the cracking out of me like an accusation. “I’ve always loved you but I love you and I had to-to?—”

“I know, Emme. I love you too.”

“Like I’m your wife?” I asked. “Is that how you love me?”

“You are my wife,” he said, his voice like sandpaper. “And that’s the only way I ever want to love you.”

Tears welled in my eyes, but I couldn’t stop smiling. “Then it only seems fair for you to play with me.” I balled my fists under the sheets. I didn’t want him to see the tremor in my hands. Didn’t want him to know I felt like my chest was splitting open, like my heart wanted to break free from the cage of my ribs. “I don’t want to be alone.”

“Then you won’t be.” When he stood, he angled his phone down. It was too dark for me to make anything out more than shadowed outlines but he added, “Joggers. No zipper.”

I couldn’t help but sigh. His backside was downright biteable in those pants. “You’re so cute in joggers. You should wear them more often.”

“Baby, I’ll wear whatever the fuck you want, but right now, I need you to get to work.”

A shiver moved through me, a cool, spiraling snap of energy. “This one?” I held up the purple toy. I loved the look of the suction element. That thing was going to destroy me. And the vibe element had a nice, thick head. Combined, these features would scramble my brain in about a minute. “What do you want me to do with it?”

His head dropped back against the chair. “Just let me be there with you.”

I noticed his shoulder hitch every few seconds and I watched, a breath trapped in my chest. I faded into the sounds of rustling fabric and his ragged exhales as I moved the device between my legs. It was heavy and plush, and the anticipation that’d built in the past few minutes had me shuddering at the slightest touch.

I switched on the vibe and dragged it along my seam. I was already wet and clenching, and the deep, rolling rumbles of the toy hit me like a series of tiny, pinprick orgasms. “Oh my god,” I gasped.

Ryan groaned and I heard the light slap of skin. “You have no idea how fucking beautiful you are,” he said, each word bitten out.

I held the toy to my clit, but I had to pull back. It was too much, too fast. I tried again with a bit less pressure and a long string of unintelligible swearing spilled from my mouth. I twisted and shook with every wave of vibrations. I knew my neck and cheeks were beet red, my body covered in a fine sheen of sweat. A minute in and I was already working hard for this orgasm.

“What are you doing?” he asked.

“Teasing my clit.”

Another gorgeous growl and then, “Show me.”

Honestly, I didn’t know where I found the audacity. I kicked away the blankets and grabbed the phone, holding it against my inner thigh. I didn’t know if the angle was any good and I refused to let myself think about how I looked in this position. There was no way in the world for this to be flattering—or just not awful—but I was in too deep to care about any of that.

“Fuuuuck.” I heard him swallow. “You are fucking perfect.”

I dragged the head down my seam and held it to my opening. The vibrations made it hard to keep my eyes open, to do anything more than dissolve into the bed as I moaned for more.

“You want it inside you,” he said. “Don’t you, my love?”

I cried out as the thick head filled me. I liked this kind of pressure, especially with all the nice rumbles, but it did shut down entire portions of my brain as I adjusted to it. A minute passed while I let these sensations turn me into soft, throbby need.

“You’re doing so good,” he said.

I didn’t respond. Couldn’t. Not when the head slipped a bit deeper as I positioned the suction element. I should’ve given myself a second before turning it on, but the only thing I cared about right now was pleasing my husband. Hearing more of those tender, gentle words, the ones that felt like him brushing my hair over my ear and kissing my forehead.

I loved suction toys because I could always count on them to suck all the tension from my body in a minute or two. It was my everyday stress relief valve. But now, with Ryan watching and telling me how hard I was working, how pretty and sweet my cunt was, how amazing it’d feel when I came for him, it felt like a miracle. Like magic I’d conjured just for him.

For my husband. The one I loved . The one I wanted to keep for—for always.

“I’m—” I wanted to say more but all I had were cries and moans and the occasional oh fuck as my back arched off the bed, my hips rutted against the hand holding the toy in place, and my legs shook uncontrollably.

“That’s it,” he growled. “That’s my fucking girl.”

I twitched and panted for a minute, too shattered to turn off the toy. When I could finally command my fingers to press the buttons and pull it from my clenching core, a fresh wave of sensations washed over me and I was pretty sure I watched my soul leave my body.

“Wow,” I whispered. I heard Ryan’s answering murmur and that was when I realized I still had the phone positioned below deck. I propped it against the pillow and glanced at him, a surge of shyness wiggling through me. “Hi.”

I watched as he mopped his balled-up shirt over his torso. He smiled and he seemed so…proud. As if he just couldn’t believe me. As if I’d done something remarkable. I hadn’t, but I still adored the way he looked at me. It magnified all the aftershocks coursing through my body. “How’s my girl feeling now?”

“After review of the play, the ruling on the field stands. Wow .” I grinned at his bare chest. “How’s my husband?”

“Missing you so fucking much.” He glanced down at himself, laughing. “Thinking about flying home tonight.”

“No, you’ll just have to go back for another shoot,” I wailed. “Stay and get it over with. You’re there now.”

“The only place I want to be is between your thighs.”

“And you will be,” I said, pulling out my most severe teacher voice. “When you finish all of your work.”

Heat flared in his eyes. “You’re not making this any easier.”

I hit him with a stern gaze. “Let’s put on our thinking hats. Will it help us to throw away all our hard work just because we want to play? Or will that make more work for us—and our friends who are only trying to do their jobs—later on?”

“Okay, okay, I’ll stay.” He threw his shirt across the room with a grunt. “But if you keep talking like that, we’re going to be setting up at the line of scrimmage real quick.”

“Hmm.” I reached for the box and held up a waterproof suction toy resembling a rubber ducky. “Any chance your suite has a bathtub?”

“I fucking love your devious mind, wifey.” He dragged a hand up his bare chest, settling at the flowers near his shoulder. “Let’s go.”