My Husband Kissed His Girl Best Friend in Front of 200 People, So I Filed for Divorce novel · Chapter 23 of 24

Chapter 23: Morning

I looked up at the sign.

Then at Nathan, coiling a cable by the van with his jacket off.

He'd heard. He was very carefully not looking at me.

"No," I said.

The producer blinked. "No?"

"Not tonight. You've had my face on your channel three times this summer, and every time somebody else picked the moment." I smiled at him. "The next shot, I pick."

"When?"

"You'll know," I said. "Bring the camera on derby night."

He opened his mouth to argue.

Nathan clapped him on the shoulder.

"She's very bossy," he said. "I'd do what she says."

We walked home down North Street at half past twelve, holding hands, his jacket round my shoulders.

The new sign glowed behind us all the way to the corner.

I woke at half six in Gran's front bedroom with the curtains open and the sun coming straight in.

Nathan was asleep on his back, one arm flung over his eyes, taking up three quarters of the bed.

I lay and looked at him for a while.

The broken nose. The scar on his knee where the sheet had slipped. The dark stubble.

He opened one eye.

"You're doing a sum," he said.

"I'm not."

"You've got the face."

"I was counting," I said. "How long till the builders come."

He took his arm off his face.

"How long?"

"An hour and a half."

He rolled over and pulled me under him in one go.

He rolled over and pulled me under him in one go.

I made a sound that wasn't dignified.

"Morning," he said, against my mouth.

His voice was rough with sleep.

I could feel all of him, the weight, the heat, the hard line of his cock against my thigh.

"Hour and a half," I said.

"So you keep saying."

He kissed me slow, the kind of kiss that made my toes curl, one hand in my hair, tilting my head back.

I pushed my fingers into his hair and pulled.

"Eager," he said.

"You're the one on top of me."

"I woke up on top of you because you were staring at me like you wanted to eat me."

"I was counting."

"Liar." He kissed my neck. "You were looking at my scar."

"I was looking at all of you."

He lifted his head.

Those dark brown eyes, still half-lidded, his stubble rough against my jaw.

"All of me," he repeated.

Everything in me went hot.

"Don't let it go to your head."

"It's going somewhere else entirely, Tash."

He ground against me once, deliberate, and I gasped.

His T-shirt.

I was still wearing his stupid faded red T-shirt, the one he'd given me to sleep in weeks ago and I'd never given back.

He sat back on his heels and looked down at me.

"Off," he said.

"Make me."

He raised an eyebrow.

Then he grabbed the hem and pulled it up and over my head in one motion, tossing it on the floor.

"Cheater," I said.

"Works every time."

He pushed me back down onto the mattress, his hands on my shoulders, then slid them down over my tits, my ribs, my stomach.

There's something about being naked under him in broad daylight.

The sun was coming in the window, hot across the white sheets.

I could see every detail of his face when he looked at me like that.

Like I was the only thing in the whole house worth looking at.

"God," I said.

"He's not here. Just me."

I laughed, and he bent his head and took one nipple in his mouth, and the laugh turned into a sharp inhale.

He sucked slow, his tongue working, one hand coming up to roll the other between his fingers.

The wet heat of his mouth.

The scratch of stubble on the soft skin.

My hips moved without me telling them to.

"That's it," he murmured against my skin. "Don't be shy."

"Not shy."

"No," he said. "You never are with me."

He moved lower, pressing kisses down my stomach, his big hands spreading my thighs apart.

I was already wet.

I could feel it, the slick heat between my legs, the empty ache.

He settled on his stomach between my thighs, looking up at me.

"Watching," I said.

"Always."

He dragged his thumb through the wet hair, parting me, and then his mouth was on me.

His tongue, flat and hot, licking from bottom to top.

My head went back into the pillow.

"Fuck."

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