His eyes shift from side to side, like maybe he’s in trouble.
“Remember, sometimes it won’t open whenMamíand Daddy are in here unless you knock first, buddy.”
“Oh.” His face falls. “Right.”
Ford pushes past him, walking straight into our room and over to my side of the bed, eight going on thirty-eight, all facts, even at this hour.
“He had a bad dream and he woke us up. Brad told him to come to Mom.” He shrugs his shoulders, sandy hair all rumpled from sleep, and walks back out now that his brother has been turned over to Mom and Dad, not just told to fuck off like the eldest had tried to do.
Chrissy picks Preston up, holds him to one side of her body, and comes over to give me one last kiss before she goes to comfort him in the room he shares with Lea. In a few more years, we’ll have to turn that playroom into another bedroom, but we’re still able to make do for now.
She presses her lips to mine once, twice, then murmurs on top of them, “That’s not your only surprise today. Tonight at eight you have a firefight with the boys.”
My brows raise and a jolt of excitement I should probably be embarrassed by shoots through me, but I can’t bring myself to care. My wife is the fuckingbest.
“Really?” Pretty sure I sound like the physical representation of Sir Wags right now, like I’m just excited to be alive; like this is the best day of my life. For him? Each new dayisthe best day he’s ever had. For me? This one is definitely top ten. My wife opening up to me again. Giving me her mouth. Giving me an evening of gaming with my bros. Goddamn, I love this woman.
“Mmhmm.” She nods her head against mine lazily, and before I can come close to thanking her how I want to, she whisks off, just a trail of silk in her wake as she goes to be Wonder Mom.
That’s a title she’s had for nine years now. But this morning, she’s earned a new trophy to add to our mental shelf.
Wonder Wife of the year.
* * *
Nine hourslater and she’s pretending like this morning didn’t even happen when I slide up behind her in our room and try to cop a feel as she’s changing clothes.
She swats my hands away, not letting me make the most of the couple hours we still have before my game night with the boys starts. The kids are entertaining themselves for a rare change, I thought this might be the time to try my luck, but apparently, the marriage gods aren’ttotallyon my side yet.
“You’re gonna play hard to get when I had you choking on my cock this morning? That’s cute.”
I smirk at her, making sure she remembers how she slobbered all over my dick hours ago as well as I do. I’ve hardly stopped thinking about it since, actually. Fucking dying to repay her.
“It’s not hard to get, Chance. It’s ‘you’re not getting all of this until I say so.’ There’s a difference.”
“Yeah?”
“Yes.”
“And what’s gonna make you say so?”
She puts her cute little nose in the air, her sharp jawline and pointed chin jutted out, huge cheeks all rosy for me.
“That’s for me to know and you to probably never—" her words die in her throat as I start moving.
My hat, the one I wear around the house, when we go to the beach, play with the kids outside, I’m sure she’s mentioned it to you before, I grab it and fold the bill between my hands, flexing it.
“What—what are you—" She can’t even get the words out.
The dark blue hat is my go-to, the one for our hockey team, and I also know she’s a sucker for it. She says it brings out my eyes, but I see how her eyes trail my arms whenever I put it on. How they continue to wander over my body, pause at my junk, once I have it on. It’s like it unlocks some secret DILF-kink every time I wear it.
I’ve learned the right backward hat is a goddamn wife magnet, and it’s a secret not enough husbands are utilizing. Men, take note.
My arms come up in front, bill facing the wall behind me, t-shirt stretching around my biceps as I place the hat on my head, backward.
Her mouth parts, jaw slack, as she narrows her eyes at me.
“Are you…using that as aweaponagainst me? To get in my pants?”
