Page 27 of Ruin Me Sweetly

Phase three was fully underway.

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“Do you think Amber was quiet tonight?” Isabella asked, combing her fingers through her wet hair. Before I could respond, she pondered the possibilities aloud. “Maybe she missed Zach. She used to be quite attached to him. Followed him around like a lost puppy, back in the day. She grew out of it eventually.”

Wedding and baby. No distractions.

“Maybe she needs a new sibling,” I mused, watching her from the bed, the damp ends of her hair leaving dark patches on the shoulders of her robe.

Her head bobbed up, and our eyes met in the vanity mirror across the room. She laughed so hard she had to clutch her stomach and ribs, the sound bright and unguarded. I found it a little offensive, if I was honest. Our child was listening to this. I calculated the days in my head, precise as ever. No—baby Newbury couldn’t be allowed to hear its own mother denigrating its father this early. I might need the child to be a boy, just to balance things out. Though a girl would make an equally excellent Newbury addition.

In fact, any seed from my loins would excel, regardless of gender.

“Ahh. You think you’re so slick. Amber would love any sibling. But I’m talking about her and Zach.”

Of course Amber would love her new sibling. Anything would be an improvement over a petulant man-boy. With Bella as the mother of my child, we’d produce a truly fine specimen. I’d never wanted anything the way I wanted this child now, a hunger that seemed to sharpen daily. I was fairly certain men had some biological clock ticking away too, somewhere beneath all the noise.

“They only met again after five years, darling. Give them some time,” I murmured.

“True. I know they exchanged phone numbers, at least.”

She was smiling by the time she switched the hair dryer on. I loved seeing her relaxed like this, happy and unguarded.

It was only as I watched her that I realised what she’d said.

Amber would love any sibling.

Was she signalling that she wanted a child? That she was open to carrying mine?

She flipped her head forward and began drying the thick hair at the back, the roar of the dryer briefly drowning out my thoughts. My eyes drifted to the T-shirt that had ridden up over her ass, catching on the bright pink lace beneath it. The way the fabric spread over each cheek, clinging in all the right places.

I set my book on the nightstand—the dust jacket swapped out days ago, disguising the parenting manual underneath as some forgettable bestselling thriller.

The baby book could wait.

Daddy needed a taste of that ass.

Chapter 15

Isabella

“Do you want a sandwich with your ketchup?” I asked, staring at the red sauce dripping out of her pakora stuffed sandwich.

She swiped the excess onto her thumb.

“You know that’s called rimming, right?” she said, licking the sauce off her thumb.

“What is?”

“What Luke did to your arsehole.”

I gasped and glanced around the staff room. Agnes sat in the corner with her book. She might not have heard—she only had a hearing aid in one ear. I smacked Rhea’s arm.

“Stop shouting it out,” I hissed.

“What? Everyone knows what rimming is,” she said, taking another bite of her sandwich.

I rubbed a hand over my face, but I did tap into Google anyway.