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“I’m just saying. I would have pursued you a little more seriously, been a little more focused, than just blatantly hitting on you like an idiot because I knew I didn’t really have a chance anyway.”
“Kenny, have you ever thought that maybe you’re not the problem? That maybe the issue is no one has ever let you feel safe and that’s why you’re not affectionate?” Oh. “I…I don’t know. I haven’t had the chance to test that theory.” He swallows hard. “Why, of all people, do you want to test that theory on me?” There’s a heavy pause between us in the crowded restaurant. “Because I trust you. I think I always have.”
“I want to share my life with you, Kenny, not my food.”
“Eyes are up here, wifey.” “I’m a doctor, Rhodes. Aced anatomy, in fact. I know where your eyes are located. I just don’t care right now.”
“Mm-hmm. You don’t have to wait for me, Kenny. You can touch me whenever you want, okay? Don’t overthink it.”
“You might change your mind about that when you realize having your wife around is probably going to be a total cockblock for you.” He doesn’t laugh at my joke. “That’s perfectly fine by me. I’d rather be hanging out with you all night, anyway.”
She wants to learn so she can be better prepared to date other people. Fuck that. She may think I’m okay with that plan. She may believe I’m happy to help her, but she doesn’t need to learn to be comfortable with another man touching her. The way I see it, no other man ever will.
I breathe her in as the music continues, this girl I’ve had to keep my distance from most of the night. There’s a part of me that’s afraid of going too fast, of pushing her too quickly because of how long I’ve wanted this. Whatever we do, she’s going to have to set the pace.
“I happened to look over there at that exact moment, is all. She was cute.” “She’s not you.”
With that, he takes off towards the exit, shirtless chest, backwards hat, and bare feet. He makes it to the door before turning one-hundred-eighty degrees to jog right back to me.
At first, I think he’s giving me shit for making sure I’ve got a good view of him in those goddamn baseball pants, but then his new walk-up song begins to play over the stadium’s speakers, and I know exactly what that scheming smile is all about. Mariah Carey’s “Obsessed” is blaring from all angles around me.
Our wedding song is on full blast as Isaiah makes his way to the plate, but before he gets there, he turns back in my direction. With the entire stadium singing the song I walked down the aisle to, Isaiah extends his bat, points at me, and winks. He fucking winks. It’s the moment reality hits me… Miller was right. I think I might have a crush on my husband.
I think I have a crush on your husband too, Kenny.
“I lost our fantasy football league this year, and the boys each got to pick out a piece of décor that I have to keep displayed in my apartment for the year.” “God, that’s genius. And just how many women have run for the hills since the makeover?” Huh? “None.” She playfully rolls her eyes. “Of course not.” The only woman who’s been in this apartment since last summer is currently sitting on the couch right now.
My eyes have adjusted enough to watch him stalk towards me, closing the final steps between us. With my back flush to the door, he presses his palms to it, caging me in on either side.
one of my favorite moves 🫠
“Kennedy,” he whispers, facing me. “I need you to use your words and tell me exactly what you want. Or what you don’t want.” “I don’t know what I don’t want.” “Okay. How about we have a safe word then? Something you can say when you’re feeling uncomfortable.” “I don’t want a safe word with you. I know I might be uncomfortable, but that’s the point of all of this. To get the awkward firsts out of the way.” “Well, I’d feel better if we had one. I don’t want to accidentally cross a line you don’t want me to cross.”
“Here’s the thing, Ken.” Reaching out, he cradles the back of my head, thumb dusting over my jaw. “You’re going to have to set the pace because I have craved you here, in my bed, since the day we met, and that need has only gotten worse now that I know you. Regardless of whatever bullshit I said while under the spell that was Chili’s, the truth is, I’d fuck you right now if you asked me to. I’d go slow if that’s what you wanted. Or I’d make it rough. But I also can’t read your mind, so again, I’m going to need you to use your words and set the pace.”
“I have fucking dreamed about this,” he pants against my lips. “About kissing you. About touching you. I don’t want it to stop.”
“We should stop being so fucking polite, don’t you think?” “Well, it’s either that or me ruining you for all other men, so it’s your choice, wifey.”
I know, I know he’s going to be able to see just how wet I am. He’s going to be able to see just how much I don’t hate him. But I don’t care because everything feels so good with him. So easy. So comfortable. “God, look at you. So fucking beautiful, rubbing your pussy all over me. Are you going to come like this, Kenny?”
His hands find my waist before curling around my back, smoothly running up and down the length of my spine. “I…” He shakes his head. “I cannot believe you’re here. I feel so fucking lucky.” He palms my breasts, thumbs tracing circles over my peaked nipples, under the lace of my bralette. “And these…these are fucking perfect.”
“I have never ever been more turned on than I am by you, Kennedy Kay. By this little matching set you wore for me. By your fucking hair bouncing down your back every time you writhe on my cock, and I have never, never been more turned on than I am right now, knowing you’re going to come all over me, and I haven’t even had the pleasure of properly touching you yet.”
“You’re okay with that?” he asks. “I’m perfect.” “I know.” He kisses my throat. “I’ve been trying to tell you.”
“As much as I would love for you to walk around for the rest of your life with my cum dripping all over you, I need to clean you up.”
He blocks the doorway, keeping his friends out of the conversation, brown eyes soft and pleading. “I want you to stay.” “I know.” “But you won’t? Even if they left?” Shaking my head, I tell him no. I expect an argument, him pushing me to do something I’m not ready to do, but instead, he relents. “Can I at least drive you home?” A smile ticks on my lips. “I’ve got it from here.” “All right.” He exhales a defeated sigh before the typically happy Isaiah comes back. “And what about me?” he asks, crossing his arms and leaning into the doorway. “Did I have a good game tonight?” The insinuation in
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Speaking of the man I’m married to, Isaiah pulls up, parking his SUV right in front of mine, his boyish smile glowing through the windshield when he catches me waiting for him.
Isaiah softens, his mouth turning up in a smile as he looks down at me. His thumb dusts over the back of my hand before he brings it to his lips, placing a quick kiss there.
“Fuck, Ken. I don’t want you on the floor.” “You’re on the floor, so why can’t I be?” “Because you’re my wife.”
I shoot her a warning look, but it doesn’t hold much weight when I know I’m staring at her like she’s the best thing I’ve ever seen.
“Jealous of a two-year-old,” Kennedy says quietly. “That’s a new look for you.” “I’ve been jealous over you for years, Ken. Couldn’t care less how old the guy is.”
“Do you have a last name, Kennedy?” Vincent asks as he once again steps into my space and places his hand on my shoulder, completely disregarding that I asked him not to. I flinch, but it’s only there for less than a second before his hand is forcibly removed. Isaiah shoves him back a step. “Rhodes,” he says. “Her last name is Rhodes. Now get your fucking hands off my wife.”
this is the quote that made me want to read this book in the first place 🫠
“When I’m what, Kennedy?” His voice is loud and angry. “When I’m constantly thinking about you? When I’m trying my best just to get you to notice me? Or when I’m too busy not touching other women. Because I haven’t laid a finger on anyone other than you. Not once. And not just since we got married. I haven’t even looked at another woman since the day I found out you ended your engagement. I would’ve waited for you since the day I met you had I known you weren’t in love with your fiancé. For years, I thought you were happy with someone else. But I only found out ten months ago, Ken. For the
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What the fuck am I doing? It’s as if all this time together, I’ve been practicing to be good enough for someone to want me, and he’s been here all along, waiting.
“I’ll teach you how to be good, baby, but I’m sure as fuck not going to teach you for anyone else. I’m going to teach you how to be good for me.”
“I don’t want to be nice to you right now, Kenny. I’m pissed off, and I don’t feel like faking it.” I run my tongue over my lower lip, and he tracks the entire thing, looking like some kind of predator. “I don’t want you to fake anything with me.”
“You going to let me come in your mouth?” “Yes.” My breaths are short and choppy. “Please.” “Are you going to be a good little wife and swallow it all for me?”
He gently brushes my hair out of my face. “So pretty like this,” he says. “Mouth full of my cum.” The pad of his thumb traces down the line of my throat. “Now swallow it.”
The door to my bedroom opens, and my groan is involuntary. “You’re joking.” She stands there in the threshold, wearing one of my tees that may as well be a dress on her, and then she slightly lifts the hem, revealing the pair of my boxer briefs she’s planning to sleep in. “What’s yours is mine,” she teases. “Isn’t that how this whole marriage thing works?” “You can have literally whatever you want as long as you’re wearing that when you ask.”
“Can I steal some toothpaste?” she asks. “Yeah.” I kiss her again. “You need it.” She scoffs in faux horror, smacking me in the chest. “If you’re telling me I have bad breath, you can take full responsibility for that. I did have your dick in my mouth, after all.” “Oh, hell yeah, you did.” I pull her down and kiss her again. Harder this time. “I changed my mind. Don’t brush your teeth. I like knowing my cock was the last thing in there.”
💀
“I followed you home anyway.” “What?” She bursts a laugh. “You did not, you stalker.” “You really thought I was going to let you leave my house in the middle of the night without making sure you got home safely? I drove by, watched you get inside, before I came back here to deal with my three drunk friends. All the while, my mind couldn’t get rid of the memory of how hard you made me come and how much I liked seeing you in those little lace panties and matching bra.”
“Llllive, laugh, love you,” he finishes. “The way I live, laugh, love you.” He says it so confidently the second time, but it still makes no fucking sense. Regardless, I can’t help but burst a laugh. “You live, laugh, love me?” “God, so fucking much.”
“And you still feel that way? You do them because you’re lonely?” “I suppose so.” I huff a dry laugh. “But I guess it says something that I haven’t finished one in weeks, huh?” His smile turns proud.
Anxiety doesn’t produce rational thoughts. It creates worst-case scenarios and acknowledging that still doesn’t change the fact that anxiety takes over my entire body and mind, making me unable to focus on anything else.
“Kenny, I couldn’t give two shits about what your body looks like, but just so you’re aware, I have never seen someone so perfectly made for me. And if you’re so concerned about the size of your tits, I have no problem putting you on your knees, making you hold them together, and showing you just how perfectly sized they are for me to fuck.”
“You’re doing so good for me, baby. Taking me so well.”
“You thought I was possessive before we fucked? I feel fucking unhinged now.”
All sorts of possessive thoughts run through my mind. How I want to mark her. Keep her. Fuck her until she forgets about the idea of ever leaving me.
“You okay?” I ask. “Perfect.” He gives it a squeeze. “I like holding your hand in public.” He doesn’t even try to lower his voice when he adds, “And I like holding your throat in private.”
“You can call me Zee.” “Kennedy.” Isaiah cuts in from my side. “And you can call her Mrs. Rhodes.”
Once again, Isaiah catches my attention out the window when he holds up his wedding ring for his friends to see. Chest puffed, shoulders back. I’ve never met a man prouder of a piece of jewelry than Isaiah Rhodes is of his wedding ring. Since putting it on the first time, I’ve yet to see him without it. The only time his finger is bare is when he’s swapping his metal ring for the silicone one before a practice or a game.
“Well, damn.” Isaiah lets out a low whistle as he drops something into the kitchen sink. “Don’t you four look good.” “Flirt,” Miller mutters. “I’m a married man, Montgomery. I don’t flirt.” He bends over the back of my chair as I crane my neck up to look at him. “Except with you. I like flirting with you. You want cheese on your burger?” “Yes, please.”
