“Yes. That. Please? Pretty please?”
“I love it when you ask nicely.” He raises his voice, finding Sloane and Liz. “We’re going to head home. Frankie needs a nap before you guys come over. Take your time.”
They know what I need, but I have the best friends in the world, because they feign innocence and make noises aboutyes, later, maybe five thirty?
I actuallydoneed a little nap after the excitement, but I take it in the car on the drive home to Venice. I wake up as Logan steers our car into the narrow garage on the back of the canal house.
“Home sweet home, Frankie.” He turns the car off. “Wake up, Doc.”
“I’m awake,” I murmur.
Inside, I find the house has been transformed in the few hours that we’ve been gone. Mystery elves have decorated the main floor with fresh flowers and graduation balloons, and set our dining room table for our guests later.
“What is this?” I turn around slowly, taking it all in.
“I’m spoiling my wife because she’s incredible.” Logan puts the keys in their spot, then follows me to the stairs, where more flowers decorate the landing on the second floor.
I step up one stair, then look back.
Logan’s gaze is tangled on my bare legs.
He grins shamelessly as he glances up to meet my eyes. “Keep going. I love to watch you head up these stairs ahead of me.”
On the second floor, where the artist who lived here before had her art studio, we now have a guest room and a workout space for Logan. One of her paintings is hung in a place of honor.
At the top of the next flight of stairs, in between our bedroom and the room we’ll use as a nursery in the fall, there’s a massive oversized mirror.
Once again, I catch my husband looking at me hungrily as I get to the top of the stairs.
I stop and watch him in the reflection as he joins me. With him a step below me, his mouth is at exactly the right level to kiss me on the back of my neck.
Instinctively, I straighten up, and he groans as his mouth drags down onto the top of my spine, just above the top of my dress.
“You’re such a good girl, aren’t you? I love how you always fix your posture when I kiss you here.”
“I don’t.” But I can feel it, that proud tension I told in my body when I know he’s giving me attention.
“You do. You were made to be a very good girl, and when you know that’s appreciated, you really rise to it.”
I’m blushing.
He shifts me forward so he can join me on the landing in front of the mirror. Now he’s much taller than me, his chin nudging against the side of my head as he curves around me to pull my sundress smooth over the now obvious bump there.
He holds my gaze as he rubs his big hands over my belly, then inches my skirt up, revealing my thighs and then my panties. “Hold your skirt for me.”
I put my hands where his are. He kneels behind me, unbuckling my heels first, helping me out of them reverently. Then he peels my panties off, leaving me standing in front of the mirror barefoot and completely revealed from the hips down.
Pussy on display.
I squirm, but I don’t let my skirt drop.
He curves one hand over my thigh, pushing his fingers between my legs. “Who loves this pussy?”
I giggle.
But he’s serious. “Who. Loves. This. Pussy?”
“You do,” I whisper.
