Page 51 of Burn Bag

“We’ll cross that bridge when we get to it,” I argued, refusing to relent.

She swiped at the tears again, smiling through the wetness streaming down her face. “They really do get over it. I mean, aside from the stiffness that will always be in their joints. And the potential for arthritis…Not to mention the potential litter box problems…But I’m sure it’ll be fine with time.”

She sniffed hard and wiped at her face again. Fuck, I couldn’t argue with this woman, not when she was practically begging me not to declaw the cats. She looked so fucking sad, and all I could do was stare at her, wishing those tears were for me instead of the cats.

But they weren’t. My wife had a soft heart for animals, that much was clear. And if I wanted to make this marriage work, I had to give a little, even if the little shit had just tried to castrate me.

And that was how I found myself grabbing her hand in mine and tugging her closer until I was holding her to my chest and rubbing her back. Fuck, I was such a sucker.

“It’s okay,” I cooed.

She nodded against my chest. “It will be. I mean, he might bite more and?—”

“Stop,” I chuckled. “You win. The little demon can keep his claws.”

She popped up with a bright smile, her tears still shimmering in her eyes like diamonds. Fuck, she was beautiful. How the hell could I ever say no to her?

“It’ll be fine. We’ll make it work. Maybe I can get some anti-cat scratch spray and coat my body with it.”

She grimaced, shaking her head. “I like your scent.”

It was then that I realized that she was wearing my shirt. My cock started to harden, only to die an immediate, tragic death when the cuts opened up. I winced, cupping my dick to keep it under control.

“You should really wear a bra,” I gritted out.

“Oh, is it that obvious? I just ran out of the house.”

I nodded, taking a deep breath to control the pain. “It’s pretty damn obvious to me, and my…injured appendage isn’t too thrilled about your tits being on display for everyone to see.”

She gasped, crossing her arms over her chest as her cheeks flamed bright red. “I hadn’t realized?—”

Grunting, I tugged her arm away so I could better see those beautiful nipples poking through the fabric. “You don’t have to cover them up for me.”

But then I started to harden again, and pain ricocheted through my body. “Okay, cover them up,” I gasped. “Fuck, that hurts.”

Chuckling, she bent over and pressed a kiss to my lips. “I really am sorry.”

“Sure you are. I bet you planned this whole thing,” I grumbled. “How to take your husband out of commission in two simple steps. You could write a book on it.”

“I really didn’t plan this.”

“That’s good,” I rumbled. “Because that would be the most vicious, fucked-up thing I’ve ever heard of. I’d have to convince OPS to put you on the payroll.”

“As a cat wrangler?”

“Something like that. I’m sure we’d find plenty of uses for you.”

She bit her lip, hiding her grin. “I really am sorry.”

“I know you are. Just promise me something.”

“Anything,” she said instantly.

“No more cats.”

“Right,” she promised. “No more cats than the ones we already have.”

For some reason, the way she said that had an ominous tone, and I had a feeling I’d be paying for that promise at a later date.

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