Page 188 of This Woman Forever

She snorts. “Are you joking?”

“What?” I ask. “I don’t swear anywhere near as much as you do.”

“Oh my God, you’re deluded.”

I dip and slam a kiss on her mouth. “I’ll go pay,” I say, wrinkling my nose at her exasperated face as I push off, going to the counter.

“Make sure it’s just for the clothes,” she calls.

I stop halfway and turn a scowl back at her, and she smiles sweetly, her hand back on her stomach, circling.

My scowl disappears.

“Keep going, and I might break the rules and give you a Retribution Fuck.”

Her arms are instantly held out in front of her, her wrists together. “I dare you.”

I laugh, fucking delighted, and go to the counter.

35

I think we’re both sick of mooching a few hours later. The newfound feeling of hunger is stirring in my stomach as I put Ava’s purchases in the car and assess the restaurant options on the front of the marina. “God, I’ve missed you,” I say, seizing her, finally able to get both my hands on her now they’re free of bags. I swallow her yelp as I kiss her, my lips slipping across hers. “Hmm, you taste good.”

“If you want to wear ladies’ lipstick, do it properly.” She attacks me with her lipstick, beaming up at me. “Better. You’re even more handsome with shimmery lips.”

“Probably.” But what color is it? “Come on, I need to feed my wife and peanuts.” Standing her up, I wipe my mouth with the back of my hand, checking. No color, just shimmer. “These need tightening,” I say, noticing the top of her dress getting lower on her boobs, the straps lengthening.

She slaps my hands away and walks off, and I recoil, injured, insulted, and everything in between. “That was uncalled for, wasn’t it?” So fixing straps doesn’t fall under acceptable levels of fussing? But painting toenails does? Help me out, someone, please. “I was only trying to help.”

“Where are you feeding me?” she calls back.

And feeding does too? I’m so confused. And annoyed. Her terms. Always her terms. I reach for Ava’s wrist and pull her to a stop. “Don’t walk away from me,” I grumble, turning her to face me again, confused by her smirk. She’s playing? “And you can wipe that grin off your face.” I move in and take it upon myself to do what I originally intended. Fix her fucking straps. “You’re fucking intolerable sometimes,” I mutter, moving to the other side. “I know you only do it to get a rise out of me.” I check each strap. Double-check. “Better,” I conclude. “Ridiculous dress.” Had I known the straps weren’t reliable, she wouldn’t have left the villa in it. “Why do you insist on being so difficult?”

“Because I know it drives you crazy.”

And there it is. An admission. Proof, not that I needed it. “You just enjoy reducing me to a crazy madman.”

“You make yourself a crazy madman. You need no help in that department, Jesse. I’ve told you before; you do not dictate my wardrobe.”

Maybe not, but I buy the clothes, that earns me some rights. “You drive me crazy,” I mutter for the sake of it, reinforcing it.

“What are you going to do?” She’s still fucking grinning. Why am I taking the bait? “Divorce me?”

I beg your pardon? “Watch your fucking mouth,” I snap, stunned.

“I didn’t even swear,” she says, laughing.

“Yes, you fucking did.” I scowl at a man who passes, his eyes on Ava for slightly longer than is acceptable. And no time at all is the only acceptable amount of time. “The worse word,” I confirm, watching him quickly correcting himself when I catch him in the act, admiring my hysterical wife. “In fact. I forbid you to say it.”

“You forbid me?” she asks, her laughing ramping up.

“Yes, I forbid you.”

“Divorce.”

For God’s sake. “Now you’re just being childish.”

“...ish,” she whispers, her lips puckered delightfully, ready for me to kiss. How she drives me wild. “Feed me.”

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