Page 2 of Icy Cold Death

Women.

Were.

Sexy.

His wife was simple, plain, and honestly, when he married her, he did her a favor. Her greatest attribute was her father’s wealth and prestige.

Yeah, he was a man, who was unable to keep his dick in his pants.

He liked to blame his wife for that.

If she was prettier, sexier, or even tried to be special, they might have a good marriage, but she was a lamb, too, and he regretted marrying her.

If he could go back in time, and stop himself, he would—just not with the women he had shacked up with. He didn’t regret any of them.

Not.

Even.

Close.

He wished he could stay in this world, bopping from babe to babe, making his world a happy place, but he knew he had to set them free.

The risk…

It wasn’t worth it.

Now, it was going to be one of those things, where he hoped and prayed that the woman could be trusted not to blow what he had.

Maybe it would take bribery.

Maybe it would take asking nicely.

Hell.

Maybe it would take threats.

All he knew was they needed to go about their business and forget about him.

So, again, as he waited for that last delicious rendezvous under the starlit sky, he hoped for the best.

He patiently sat there as the sun was long gone, and he planned out what he was going to say to them.

God.

Hooking up with this woman had been an adventure, one his wife, Jessamy, didn’t like taking. She was a good Christian woman, and his family had wanted him to marry her to move up the ladder.

So, he did.

This whole thing was depressing for him. He couldn’t believe he was going to have to let them all go.

It was a shame.

They were spectacular.

How spectacular?

Well…