“I feel like I’m dreaming. Like none of this… this life is happening.”
“It’s happening, and it’s a dream. You better get used to it, Mrs. Stone.”
She giggles. “We’re divorced. I got myself a younger side piece, and his memory is failing. You can’t rely on anything these days.”
“Call me a side piece again, and you will regret it,” I growl into her ear.
Her smile stretches. “Promise?”
“Go sign your books, woman, so I can deliver on my promise.”
She turns, and is immediately surrounded by her fans, small and big. I linger back and watch her light up for every kid, every parent.
She belongs here.
And I get to be the man who sees her shine.
Cora
The city hums below us, muffled by the thick windows and the weight of domestic comfort. An uneaten cupcake from the book launch sits on the nightstand.
My socks are mismatched. One of Xander’s shirtshangs off me. I haven’t taken my makeup off. And yet I’ve never felt more like myself.
Xander returns to the bedroom, two mugs in his hands. “I had to research how to froth oat milk. You’re welcome.”
I giggle, and ogle. He didn’t bother with a robe, his body on full display. “Is that the look of a man who used to pay someone to pour cereal?”
“That was one time, and I should have never told you that.” He hands me the decaf latte.
God, the man should stay naked forever.
“What are you smirking about?” He sits beside me, taking a sip.
“I might have a new job for you.”
“You do?” He looks at me, unimpressed.
“You’ll be my personal sex slave. I will keep you here all the time, naked, so I can play with you anytime I fancy.”
He puts his mug down and takes mine from me. Before I can react, he yanks me to slide me onto my back and covers me with his naked body. “How is that a new job?”
I laugh, running my nails up and down his smooth, sinewy back. “Currently, you do get dressed sometimes.”
“I don’t want my balls to freeze, woman. You need them.”
“Do I?”
“No sex slave without balls, I’m afraid. But I’m an exemplary employee. And you?”
“What about me?”
“I’m naked and hard, and I want you naked and wet, love.” He kisses my neck, and then bites and licks his way into my cleavage. When his mouth closes around my nipple, I moan and arch into him.
“I like wearing your shirt.”
He hums, and looks at me with that boyish grin that I foolishly thought, at one time, I could resist. “It’s not a bad look, but I prefer you naked.”
His fingers trail up my thigh.
