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It's her. The one from the beach. My girl. Lightbulbs flicker on in rapid succession, or maybe that's just my brain restarting after she rang my bell with . . . “What are you holding?” My voice comes out a raspy laugh. “Are you—are you laughing?” Her voice hits that certain level of incredulity that has my lips twitching again. “This is going to be a helluva story to tell our kids one day, baby girl,”
“Me?” He arches a brow, his lips curving into a sinful smile. “There's nothing I want more than to eat this pretty pussy all night. Every fucking night. So, be a good girl and hold on to me,
“I'm her motherfucking husband. So why don't you tell me where the fuck my wife is.”
