Page 20 of His Son's Wife
The bedtime routine had evolved without discussion. A cuddle. A kiss on her cheek. I let her hold me for as long as she needed—sometimes Pandora joined us but most nights it was just us, her arms around me and her breathing slowing against my chest.
And last night she’d rubbed her pretty little breasts against me. Deliberately or not, I hadn’t decided. It didn’t matter either way.
“What would you like to do now?”
She placed a finger over her lip, considering.
“I want a bubble bath.”
I nodded. The heat would be beneficial now. The rib had healed enough.
Her brow furrowed.
“What’s wrong?”
“I might get scared in the bath,” she murmured, tracing a finger slowly around my collar.“Maybe you could come with me.”
My heart rate spiked.
I swallowed—felt my own Adam’s apple betray me.
Once I’d taken a few steadying breaths I was calm enough to reply.
“Have I ever said no to you, Princess?”
She thought about it for a moment. Genuinely considered it.
Then shook her head.
“Your bubble bath will commence at eight pm,” I said, as she rested her head on my shoulder.
One hour before bedtime.
Every detail accounted for.
As always.
Chapter 10
Sayla
Tonight was special. I could feel it in the air—a tension that had been building for days, pulled taut and humming like a wire.
He fed me himself. Bite after bite. No napkin. When cream and icing caught on my lips he used his thumb to wipe it clean before pressing it slowly into my mouth. He let me suck on it—cleaning every last trace of sweetness while feeling him inside my mouth, warm and unhurried.
“Good girl,” he rasped.
He pulled his thumb out slowly.
It wasn’t enough. Not anymore. It hadn’t been enough for a while now if I was being honest with myself.
“I need more,” I whispered.
His eyes closed for a moment. Those long dark lashes fanned still against his cheekbones. Then they shot open.
Weeks of having him close. Of learning what he represented in my life. Of grey sweatpants and careful hands and a penguin and laminated rules and a thumb in my mouth at the dinner table—I knew exactly what I wanted.
“Not until Dr Montgomery clears you,” he said.
