Total pages in book: 31
Estimated words: 29255 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 146(@200wpm)___ 117(@250wpm)___ 98(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 29255 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 146(@200wpm)___ 117(@250wpm)___ 98(@300wpm)
I stand and stretch, wondering what my wife is up too. I know both of our boys are down for naps. Normally by now she’s in here lying on the sofa in my office and reading a book until I’m done doing whatever it is I have to wrap up.
We always eat lunch together. Then I eat her until she passes out for her own small nap. Her first trimester of pregnancy always makes her a mixture of sleepy and horny. I’d add hungry, but she’s always hungry, I think with a smile. Thank god I can cook, because that’s one of the few things my perfect wife doesn’t excel at. Still I eat her burnt bacon and rubbery eggs anytime she makes them. I’d do anything for that woman to make her smile. God knows she makes me smile by simply being.
I still, dropping my arms from a stretch when I hear her laughter ring out in the house. I glance towards the window but don’t see a car. Maybe she’s on the phone. I head out of my office, following the sound of her laughter, and freeze when I see Nick, the man who makes sure our pond is taken care of, standing in our kitchen eating the burnt cookies my wife made for me last night. I only hired him a few months ago after the last guy retired and moved down to Florida with his wife.
My jaw hardens when I see his eyes on her tits as they bounce with laughter. She has one hand on the counter, the other on her baby bump. She’s holding onto our little baby girl as she laughs. Maybe the fucker doesn't see it. Not that he needs to. She has a giant rock on her hand and I’m the one who hired him. His ass knows she’s married. Still, here he stands in my kitchen, staring at my wife, ready to pounce on her. He’s even creeping towards her slowly.
“Lake is outside,” I say, entering the kitchen. Caroline looks shocked at my hard tone. I almost swear it’s fake because there’s no way she can be surprised right now. Or maybe she didn't notice the fuck staring at her tits. Either way, I’m pissed. My whole life everyone has always said I’m the good guy, always doing the right thing.
That was until Caroline. Apparently I saved all my assholeness for the moments someone got too close to my woman. I come to stand behind my wife leveling the guy with a hard stare. There is no missing that I’m begging for a reason to lay him out.
“I was just letting Caroline know I was done.” He motions towards the lake.
“Mrs. Clark,” I correct him. I don’t have to see my wife’s face right now to know she rolled her eyes.
“Mrs. Clack,” he parrots my words. I would think it’s a good thing he learns fast, but he doesn't need to learn shit because he won’t be coming back here ever again.
“I’ll walk you out.” I turn my wife in my arms and kiss her so hard and deep she forgets fuckface is standing there. When I pull away she’s breathless and her mouth is swollen. That heavy, lustful look in her eyes almost has me forgetting he’s standing there too for a moment.
“I’ll be back in a minute, my heart.” I soften my voice for her. “I’ll make you some lunch and then we’ll have our nap.” It’s clear what “nap” means from my tone. The man chokes on the burnt cookie. At least he’s trying to eat it. I’d really have to deck him if he let on to my wife her cooking wasn't the best. I watch as Caroline’s cheeks warm to a nice pink. She smacks my chest, whispering my name loudly in a scolding tone. I have to fight a smirk. I kiss the end of her nose before stepping away from her.
I don’t care how petty it makes me, but I take the cookie right out of the man’s hand and put it down on the kitchen counter. “Let’s go.” I motion to him to start moving his ass. He turns and does as he’s told. I let my hand fall to his shoulder, giving it a hard squeeze as we head to the side door where I know he has to be parked. That’s why I didn't see his truck when I glanced out the front window.
“Maybe you aren't used to husbands being home when you do your stops.” I squeeze him hard and he whimpers in pain. “But I’m always fucking home with my wife.” I stop walking but don’t release his shoulder. I want him to look me in the eyes. Finally he does.
“You hear what I’m saying?”
“Loud and clear,” he rushes to say, dropping his eyes from mine. I let him go. I think he gets the point.