Page 59 of Line Change

I’m sitting on the couch an hour later, having changed into more comfortable clothes, trying and failing to pay attention to what’s on the television when my phone dings. After we both changed, Sutton decided she wanted to take a shower, so that’s what she’s doing while I’m attempting to watch TV. I frown at the screen. I think it’s a comedy, but I couldn’t tell you anything about it. I’ve been too distracted replaying the kisses Sutton and I shared.

My phone dings again, and I grab it, noticing that the messages are from my sister.

Harriet: Talked to Mum about your idea of hiring someone to manage the farm.

Harriet: Told her you offered to pay. She said she’d consider it. You’re welcome.

Well, shit. Alrighty then.

Me: Fine with me. Just tell me how much.

Harriet: I know it’s been in the family for generations, but that doesn’t mean we have to keep it. Especially if none of us wants to run it. Maybe it’s time to let it go.

I groan, raking a hand over my face, and reread her message. I’d be letting my father down, and his father, and all my ancestors who ran the farm and made it into what it is today if we sold it. Maybe Charlotte will eventually want to run it. Or Harriet’s kid.

A throat clearing has me tearing my gaze away from my phone to find Sutton standing in front of me, her wet hair swept into a bun, wearing a baggy shirt and a pair of gray joggers. She shifts on her feet, wringing her hands. I set my phone down and mute the TV, giving her my full attention. She blows out a breath, her shoulders sagging, and I hate it.

“What is it?”

“Nothing.” She turns to walk away.

“Not so fast.” I reach out and grab her hand and tug her gently toward me.

“It’s embarrassing,” she says sitting down next to me.

“What is it, wife? You can tell me.”

She sinks into my touch when I ghost my fingers along her arm. She mumbles something I can’t understand, and I lean closer.

“You’re gonna have to speak up.”

“I’m horny.”

“How can I help?” Internally, I’m jumping up and down at the possibility of getting to touch her; externally, I’m trying to keep calm and not scare her with my enthusiasm.

“I don’t know, but kissing you made it worse, so it’s all your fault.” She’s talking to her lap instead of to me, and I don’t like it.

I sweep her hair out of the way, lean over, and whisper in her ear. “Do you need to come?”

I don’t miss the small gasp she lets out.

“Yes, but it’s not …”

I brush my lips along the edge of her ear, knowing this could backfire on me but also knowing that if I don’t try, I won’t know. “Do you want me to make you come? Is that what you need, wife?”

“I do.” The words come out strangled. “Please, Bash.”

I kiss her neck where it meets her shoulder, and internally celebrate when she moans. “All you have to do is ask. I told you that, Sutton. Anything you want is yours, but I need your words.”

I move back, waiting to see what she does. Part of me wonders if she’s going to hop off the couch and shut herself in the bedroom. But my brave beautiful girl lifts her head and meets my eyes, a light blush coating her cheeks.

“Touch me. Make me come, husband.”

A growl erupts from my throat, and I skate my finger along the waistband of her pants. She shivers. “Are we changing the rules, or is this a onetime thing?”

I ghost my lips along her jaw. I need to know if this is only for one night or if I’ll get to worship her as often and as much as I want. Either way, I plan to make this the best orgasm she’s had … so far.

“We’re married, which means neither of us can see anyone else, but we both have needs. But only if that’s what you want too …”