Chapter 47
Harper
James looks down at me, his fingers still a collar around my neck, a look of frustration on his features.
I was so sure he was going to lose control, but he didn’t.
He releases me and steps back. Then straightens my dress.
"Uh, I think you should attend to that." I nod toward the impressive tent at his crotch.
"Yeah." He surveys me again. Then, satisfied, he strides to the doorway of the room.
He jumps up, grabs the bar, and in his suit, with the jacket stretching over his impressive back, proceeds to do pull-ups.
My jaw drops.
It’s a turn on watching my husband’s muscles flex, and those massive biceps bunch, and when his jacket rides up, I can’t even tell you what the sight of those tight buns of his does to me. I’m so wet, I could rival the Pacific.
I count to thirty-six, before he drops down, shakes out his arms and turns to me. "I’m ready."
He does look calmer. And the tent at his crotch has deflated—slightly.
"I’ll be fine by the time we reach the dining room," he drawls.
"Oh." I blush a little, then walk up to him. "Why thirty-six?" Then answer it myself. “Because it’s a multiple of three?"
He stares at me strangely, then tucks a strand of hair behind my ear. "You see too much."