Page 44 of Manhattan Heart

We make out like we’re dating. Hot and heavy, slow and deep. His taste is in every fiber of my body and I ache to take more—ache to climb on top of him and feel all that hardness inside of me, losing myself into the pleasure only Gray can give. It takes a whole army of control to pull back when we’re both panting hard.

“Let me get you off.” He rasps. “I know you’re wet, know you need it, let me, baby.” His hand is on my stomach, moving down where he knows I’ll be dripping on his fingers in no time at all if I let him pry my legs open.

My eyeballs are in the back of my head somewhere and I groan, stopping myself from dry humping the top of his thigh.

“If you can’t funny business, neither can I.”

Gray grunts and I switch off the light.

“Six weeks and you’re all mine, India. Swear to god, I’m going to destroy your little body.” He declares in the dark, wrapping his arm around my waist.

I swallow my moan because I want that.

I want for him to wreck me stupid.

But all I feel is the way his heart is pounding through my own chest and panic sets in.

Keeping my hands off Gray is going to possibly be the hardest thing I’ve ever had to do.

C H A P T E R 14

Gray

“What do I have to do to get a house call from a naughty nurse?” Cal asks, hopefully after India has shown the nurse to the door. “I’d be willing to break a bone, but not my jerking off hand.”

“Why would you need to jerk off if you have naughty nurse seeing to you?” Lincoln adds to the conversation I’m only half listening to.

“Good point. Fine, I’ll sacrifice my jerking hand because she was fire, man. Did you see her eyes?”

“It was not her eyes you were looking at.”

She was here to repack the hole in my chest. I can’t say I noticed her eyes or anything else. My friends are single, they can notice all the tits and ass they want to.

They’re both sprawled on the couch opposite to the one I’m sitting on.

Lincoln has Vinny sleeping on his lap and Cal has Billy, who isn’t sleeping because he’s in ecstasy getting his belly rubbed.

The little shits abandoned me the moment my friends arrived.

“Yo, Gray, you think you can get me her number?”

“Absolutely not. She’s in charge of Gray’s care, I don’t want her administering a lethal dose of something because you’ve fucked and dumped her.” This from my wife who’s striding into the room holding two beers by the bottle neck and a glass of clear liquid in the other. My lips twitch at her dressing down. “Don’t look at his nurse again.”

“I can look at her if I want,” growls Cal, but it’s without his usual sardonic tone to his voice. My wife and best friend have always rubbed each other the wrong way. I don’t ever tell them it’s because they have the same over the top personalities. Or they were once the same, before my former party girl around Manhattan retired from her wild child lifestyle. Cal is still going strong with his. “You can’t tell me what to do, you’re not my real mom,” he tacks on and I watch India’s step falter and then she scowls. “Jesus, what a horrifying thought.”

She passes out the beers and I get the clear liquid which turns out to be sugar free lemonade. She strokes a hand over my hair absently, like it’s a nothing touch but my heart speeds up at her nearness. Then she leans down, cups my face and kisses me lightly. Her lips are soft and taste like sweet citrus. “If your friends get rowdy, just let me know and I’ll kick them out.”

Both the guys cackle.

“Will do, baby.”

“He doesn’t need to be excited,” she warns them while I palm the back of her thigh, her fingers are still in my hair.

She’s wearing her little yoga pants but thank god it’s with an oversized college sweatshirt that hits her mid-thigh.

Heart surgery or not, I’ll rip Cal apart if he lecherously looks at my wife.

Lincoln I can trust. He’s less of a dog than Cal is.

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