Page 20 of Her Dirty Secret
Serafina
Two Weeks Later
“Hey, baby?” Bryce’s head peeks around the stairs. I look up from my book.
“What’s up?” I prompt, setting the novel down on the coffee table next to me.
The rest of him comes into view and, as usual, the sight of him still makes my heart race a little. My husband. Even the thought makes me want to throw him down on the couch and do naughty things to every inch of his gorgeous body. And that’s a lot of inches. In every respect.
He stops at the foot of the couch, giving me the same admiring look I’m sure I’m giving him.
“Damn, you look good there,” his deep voice rumbles, glancing at the stack of books on the floor next to me and the pile on the coffee table. “Like a sexy little librarian.” His blue eyes sparkle mischievously, and I know he’s thinking about doing naughty things to me too. And here I thought once the honeymoon was over, we’d be tired of going at it like rabbits.
“Thanks,” I reply. “But what were you going to ask me?”
“Oh, right,” he replies, his trademark sunshine smile splitting his face. “Have you talked to my sister since we got back?”
“No, why?”
He sinks onto the couch next to me, pulling my legs into his lap and stretching his out on the coffee table while he rubs lazy circles into the bottom of my foot with his strong hands. “Mom called. She hasn’t heard from her since she got back from her trip.”
“Mmmm,” I reply, distracted by the foot massage. “Wait. Emily was on a trip?”
Bryce drops my foot and smacks himself in the head. “That’s right, I forgot. Damn. I got a voicemail from Mom the day after we left. She mentioned Emily had taken off after the party on some last-minute vacation. I meant to tell you, but, well, you know…” He grins at me suggestively.
“Yes, you were more focused on taking me on every surface of our hotel room,” I murmur. I’m sure Italy is gorgeous, but frankly we mostly only ended up seeing the inside of our hotel rooms. For two whole weeks. Except the gelato. I made sure we escaped for that at least once a day.
He runs a hand forcefully over his short, chestnut hair, and I know exactly what kind of agitated he is right now. My whole body starts to tingle in response, but I shove it down and try to focus. We really need to learn to be able to have full, normal conversations again at some point.
“So where’d she go?”
He shakes his head. “Don’t know. She didn’t say, and nobody has talked to her.”
“I’d say that’s out of character for her, but—”
“But it’s not,” he agrees. “Yeah. I’m more worried about why. I hope our getting married didn’t have anything to do with it.”
I can’t help the look of surprise on my face. “Surely she would’ve said something. I mean, Allie was pissed too, and she sure let us know. Emily’s never really been the type to hold back with me.”
He shakes his head, a small frown tugging at his mouth. “Em’s fine calling people out on their shit. But if it’s anything serious going on with her, she closes up tighter than a camel’s ass in a sandstorm.”
“Bryce!” I reach out and smack him on the arm as hard as I can.
He laughs. “What?”
I shake my head at him. “Whatever. Should we be worried?”
“Nah, I’m sure she’ll turn up when she’s ready to talk,” he assures me. He gives me a look and stills. “But you should be worried. That little smack you just gave me woke The Beast.”
I press my lips together to suppress a laugh. “I’m still not going to start calling it that.”
He turns toward me and climbs between my legs, hovering over me. “Oh, it’ll rub off on you eventually.”
“Pun intended?” I tease.
With a grin, he leans in and covers my mouth with his, wasting no time feeling me up under the grey shirtdress I’m wearing. I run my hands over his muscled arms, gently stroking his tongue with mine, waiting for him to realize what isn’t under my clothes.
He gasps and pulls away. “Dirty girl,” he whispers as his hand slides between my legs unhindered by the panties that aren’t there.