Page 97 of Forgotten Desires

“It’s good to see you smile again, Crew.”

I don’t tell her how good it feels because sometimes I’m not sure I can explain it. The world believes the lie we’ve sold, but most days, it’s just the truth. Each day I’m around Brynlee, I fall deeper, I want more of her. I want it all.

“Tell Marissa I said hello.”

“I will. Have a good night.”

Celeste walks off and I decide since my wife wants to play games, I’ll do the same. I head upstairs to my—our—bedroom and change into a pair of sweatpants, leaving my shirt off, since I’m hoping we end up naked tonight anyway.

This week has been incredible. When I got home from Arizona, we settled into this domesticated world. I never had this before. When I was married to Digger, I didn’t rush home to her. If anything, I took longer trips, worked insane hours, did anything I could to avoid coming home to the woman who wasn’t Brynlee.

“Marco!” I call out, hoping she’ll play along.

“Polo!”

I smile instantly. “Marco!”

I walk down the third level hallway, thinking maybe she’s in the game room. Nope.

She’s definitely downstairs, then.

I walk around the spiral staircase, thinking how absolutely ridiculous this penthouse is. “Brynn?” I call out again.

This time I’m met with silence. Okay, so she’s definitely on this level. I first check the movie theater, then the library, the conservatory, and last the family room, but she’s not here. What the hell?

I head to the back part of this level where the dining room is and then, I find her in the kitchen.

Her hair is piled up on top of her head, random pieces falling out around her face. She’s wearing a pair of leggings and a crop top. She’s so damn beautiful.

However, she’s covered in flour or something.

“You’re making quite a mess, wife.”

She turns with a grin. “I made dinner.”

I raise one brow. “You did?”

I look around, wondering what exactly we’re eating since there are just various ingredients all over the island.

“I did.”

I walk over to her, wrap my arm around her waist, and kiss the valley of her neck and shoulder. “I could think of something else I’d like to eat.”

She giggles and hip checks me. “Later. I cooked us a dinner, and I was trying to make cookies, but . . . that’s not going to happen.”

Brynn wipes her hands and then turns to face me, her arms coming around my neck. “You look beautiful,” I tell her.

“I look like I don’t know how to bake.”

“You’re still beautiful.”

She smiles. “Did you have a good day at work?”

“I did. I closed another deal, and we landed a very large security company account thanks to my wife and her connections with Catherine Cole.”

Brynn shrugs, her lips in a sweet smile. “I’m amazing. You can thank me later.”

“I definitely plan to.”

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