Page 13 of Manhattan Heart

But we are running so, so late as it is. I don’t want to hold up another family dinner because Gray and I can’t keep our hands off each other.

And the restaurant is all the way across Manhattan.

Letting him put a necklace of kisses around my neck I finger more shoes, my eyebrows folding in.

I don’t remember decisions being this hard.

I know for sure picking cereal to eat is not this time consuming.

I usually grab the first box and dive in. No problem.

I’m no longer in that first six months of marriage where I still wanted to impress Gray’s parents in showing them that his very young wife is the right decision for their son, and she isn’t a fucking flake by turning up an hour late to every event. They love me but I still refuse to be the last one to arrive.

“It’s your fault you’ve given me so many damn shoes I now can’t decide which ones to wear. This many is obscene.”

Amused. “Shall I take them back?”

“Bite your tongue. Let’s not get crazy.”

I’ve also been preoccupied with whatever the shit is up with Gray.

Earlier, he was on the phone in his office and looked mightily guilty when I walked in and told the person he’d call back.

That never. Fucking. Happens.

The amount of times I’ve sat on his lap while he conducted a meeting over the phone is in the double figures.

Why won’t he just tell me what it is?

Does he think I can’t handle it?

Am I still that mentally fragile girl to him he can’t share a problem with me?

I’ll kick his ass all over Manhattan if he thinks that.

What the hell my emotional state is, I’m always going to there for my husband. Always. No matter what. There’s no question or hesitation about that. We are in this together, it says so in the marriage contract, I know this for a fact, because I downloaded a copy and read it front and back so I could dowifeproperly.

Okay, it was a survey from Cosmo, but it’s still the same thing.

I’ll walk out of work at any time of the day if he needs me for anything.

No one is more important than Grayson to me.

And his secret boy shit is starting to piss me off.

Gray’s laugh rumbles against my spine and brings me out of my own head, putting me in the present with the task of selecting footwear.

A lovely deep timber sound that zips from his powerfully strong chest and enters my bones to reverberate through me. Turning in his arms without breaking the connection, I lay my forehead on his chest and inhale him, whatever cologne he selected today, he smells so good.

You know those men who get second glances in the street when he walks by because he smells like heaven dipped in chocolate and the scent of him makes women a little stupid for a few seconds and gives them crazy thoughts about following a strange man home? That’s my Grayson.

It’s a wonder my sugar D has any skin left because most every second of the day I want to claw into him like a diabolical savage.

“I never thought I’d hear you complaining about shoes, I hope hell isn’t freezing over because we don’t have Valentino ice skates.”

His laughter is infectious as he massages the back of my neck, then he sets me aside and just like that, not even a second of looking at the mammoth amount of designer shoes he’s gifted me from all of his stock, he plucks a gold pair from the top row and takes a knee before me.

Eyes like a gorgeous predator with the heart of the sweetest prince, his sharp mouth curves up slightly as his head tips off to the side and he looks up at me. “Give me your foot, baby-girl.”

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