Page 107 of I Think He Knows
Those blue eyes pierce right through me. “Don’t you know yet, Lana Mae? I’d rather be in the gutter with you than anywhere else on earth with anyone else.”
“I… believe you.”
“You should.”
38
LANA MAE
ONE YEAR LATER…
“Knock, knock.”
I’m sitting at my desk in a pool of late afternoon sunshine, typing so furiously on my keyboard and feeling so in the zone that I barely hear the words coming from the doorway behind me.
But I do. Because how could I evernothear, nor respond to, thatvoice.
I swivel around with a smile on my face and look in wonder at the sight of his big, muscular body leaning against the door frame. “Hey, babe,” I say softly. “What’s up?”
“Dinner’s ready… and everyone’s almost here.”
I rub the heels of my hands into my eyes and loll my head back against my chair. “Already? I must’ve lost track of time.”
“Hours.” My husband grins at me, his eyes sparking with heat as he moves out of the door frame and takes a step towards me. “But I’ll forgive you because you look so sexy when you’re writing.”
A little shiver runs through me. Almost a year of marriage and he still makes me feel weak at the knees with a single look.
After we got back from LA, we were quick to put wedding plans into motion. Carter and I decided that there was no point in waiting to tie the knot—be it fake or not, we were already officially engaged, and Allegra and I were already living in his house.
We were married in a small, intimate ceremony in his backyard at sunset, surrounded by close friends and family and Allegra as the world’s most enthusiastic flowergirl. The opposite of a big, flashy Hollywood wedding. And not a single camera or reporter present. It was exactly what I wanted.
What we wanted.
It was a casual wedding, but I wore white. And not just any white dress, but a gorgeous empire-waist bohemian gown that was straight out of my childhood wedding fantasies. The ones I thought would never be a reality for me… until Carter changed everything.
And do I meaneverything.
He crosses the room in a few quick strides, stopping right in front of my desk chair.
“Hi,” he says, and then, in one swift motion, he scoops me up, sits in the chair in my place, and pulls me down onto his lap so I’m straddling him. He nuzzles into my neck, the tip of his nose gliding over the delicate skin there, pulling a shiver out of me. “Get much writing done?”
As of three months ago, I am officially a full-time writer working on my debut novel. Quitting the travel agency was harder than expected—for so long, that little job had served me so well and helped me stand on my own two feet as a provider for my daughter. But Carter helped me realize that I no longer have to do that. He’s here for me and Allegra, always, and I can lean on him, if I want to. When I want to. Use that support to pursue yet another dream I never thought I’d make a reality. And while I am still an independent woman in so many ways, it’s wonderful to know that my husband is here, by my side, and never going anywhere.
“Tons,” I tell him a little breathlessly, as I thread my hands into his hair and tug, trying to urge his head upwards so I can press my lips to his.
But he resists, a man on his own mission right now. His nose is replaced with his lips, and he kisses, then gently runs his teeth over the same, delicate spot. “Any sexy bits?”
I laugh even more breathlessly as my pulse begins to pound in my throat. I was actually working on writing a very non-sexy scene about a crime investigation, but he doesn’t need to know that.
“That’s for me to know and you to find out… when the book comes out,” I tease.
He huffs out a laugh of his own as his hands move down the length of my body and find my hips. He wraps his hands around them firmly, pulling my body even tighter to his as he levels me with a searing look that makes my insides melt into a puddle. Not unlike in the crime scene I was just writing.
“Need some inspiration?” Carter’s voice is low, throaty. The voice I have now come to realize is the voice he uses when he’s thinking about doing all kinds of incredible, unspeakable things to me.
Yes. Yes I do need some inspiration.
“Isn’t everyone arriving for dinner soon?” I ask, running my palms across his chest longingly.