Page 86 of Salvaged Hearts

“Words are overrated,” I panted back, entirely mesmerized by the man below me, earning a satisfied hum of approval.

“Good girl.” In the next heartbeat, his lips found my clit, a finger plunged inside, and the world around us vanished in a swirl of pleasure.

Greyson

“And this willhumanizeme?”I asked Friday evening as Alice took a step back to admire her handiwork—herridiculoushandiwork.

“You never know; you might like it,” she said smugly, tilting her head to one side as she surveyed me.

“They’re jeans. It’s not rocket science.”

“You look good in denim,” she noted, motioning for me to turn around.

“Let’s go,” I complained, but she just widened her eyes pointedly. With a huff, I rotated, glaring down at the three-buttoned shirt she’d stuffed me into. My suspicion was her choice had more to do with how absurdly tight it was than humanizing me in the eyes of the public, especially as she ran her warm palms over the width of my chest. “I don’t see how this will help.”

“Girls love Henley shirts. Don’t try to make sense of it, just accept it.”

“Ihavea woman. I don’t need girlsto like my clothing.”

“You do if this summer press tour is going to work. You agreed to this,” she pointed out for the umpteenth time. Though our plan was working, rumors of foul play were still circulating frequently enough that Alice decided it was time to ramp it up.

“And a Henley, beach shoes, and eating out of atrailerwill help?” I repeated as she rolled her eyes and sauntered away with a flip of her gorgeous hair. I was still in disbelief that I no longer had to hide what the sway of her hips did to me.

“It’s a taco truck, smart ass.And it looks delicious!”

“Itlookslike a listeria outbreak waiting to happen,” I grumbled under my breath.

“Okay, drama queen. Don’t you ever get sick oftiny little portionsforgiganticprice tags?” she teased as she hooked her handbag over her shoulder. A new one for her birthday was inevitable, although how much she’d allow me to spend on her had yet to be determined.

I decided that the best part of having a driver was that it allowed Alice to straddle my lap in the back of the limo, rocking her hips under those flimsy sundresses she was so partial to.

The worst part of having a driver was inarguably the fact that my wife seemed to enjoy provoking a raging erection, only to flash a coy smile as she slipped off my lap and out of thecar, leaving me stranded on the bench seat until it reduced to a respectable size.

Still at half mast, I sighed as I eased out into the summer heat, glaring at her where she had plunked down beside Max in the sand. My brother was already here as well—waving like an idiot—as was Leighton, who was playing an aggressive game of tag with my niece and nephew. To his giggling delight, she appeared to be using Beau like a tiny human shield.

I just reached the first line of sand when someone sidled up next to me. Turning, I found a blonde ponytail and a reserved smile. Stacy, our best ally in this mess, was watching them with a melancholic smile on her face. “Sure makes a pretty picture,” she said, lifting her camera to show me the back of it. Alice was sandwiched between Max and Ollie, and both the kids' faces split into open-mouthed giggles with Leighton on their tails. “Sure we can’t post these?”

Chuckling, I shook my head. “You’re nearly as relentless as my wife. But, no. And you’ll never get a release signed for him, either,” I explained, tapping on Max on the screen.

“Mind if we join?”

I glanced up to find the source of that familiar voice was a very sweaty Paxton Rhodes, alongside Dallas, one of our best receivers. Both were shirtless, wearing basketball shorts and running shoes.

“Pax!” Alice yelped, sprinting for him. He chuckled as he caught her, but she wriggled free quickly, wrinkling her nose. “I love you, but you’reripe.”

“It’s ninety degrees out, Menace,” he pointed out.

“Isn’t it the off-season?” she complained.

“Getting old, sis,” Paxton supplied. I was about to tell him that the owner of the team justlovedto hear that when he added, “Gotta stay on top of my game. Can’t just bounce back like the young guys these days.”

“Good man,” I mumbled, grateful he took Ollie’s investment seriously. “Are tacos on the off-season plan?”

“One cheat day won’t kill us,” Dallas pushed, looking more eager than his new quarterback.

“Carb, protein, veggies, I think it counts,” Paxton said, grinning when his little sister beamed up at him. And just like that, our outing grew by two.

By the end of our meal, Stacy’s ‘paparazzi’ images were finally up to Alice’s standard—she’d cuffed my damn jeans and insisted on bare feet in the sand. Paxton had even been on board for a few beach football images because, naturally, Ollie just so happened to have one in his truck.

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