“Don’t look so pleased to be rid of me, Nymph.” He couldn’t be further from the truth. I swallow before replying, “Of course. What kind of dutiful wife would I be if I didn’t wait by the door for my dear husband.” He tucks a stray strand of my hair behind my ear, dragging his knuckles over my cheekbone. “I don’t think dutiful is the right word to describe you.” “Oh yeah? How would you describe me?” I regret the words instantly. He takes my hand and places it on his cock, over his wool-blend pants, then bends down until his lips nearly touch mine, and his breath tingles my skin. “You are a
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