Page 48 of Manhattan Heart

Gray would have hit the roof. He’s been moody lately.

Just odd things he snaps at and for a man like Gray, seeing him moody is a new experience for me.

Happiness took root in my abdomen the day I met Gray and it set on fire the day we married. I thought I knew every side to him but I’m learning that Gray with a cold and Gray unable to live his usual hectic lifestyle are two different types of moods. When he has a cold, he’s a little whiny, but only because I baby him and fuck him back to health.

This new recovering Gray is darker. Moodier.

He snaps down the phone more often than not at his manager who relays the business news. He hates being stuck at home.

I know this but my gorgeous man just has to suck it up.

It’s me who feels moody right now as I curl my bare feet up on Catherine’s couch, because I desperately want to be back at home with him.

I don’t feel altogether easy leaving him alone.

India:Miss you.

Gray:You only just left. Miss you more.

India:What are you doing?

Gray:Running up and down the stairs.

India:GRAYSON!!!

Gray:Shooting heroin directly into my heart.

India:Stop.

Gray:Wishing I was fucking my wife.

My insides roll over because I want that more than ever.

We’ve never gone this long without any sexual contact.

Kissing not including.

We kiss all the time. He had me pinned to the back of the door right before I came here, with his tongue in my mouth giving me the dirtiest, longest wet kiss of my life while his thigh drove between my legs, making my eyes roll into the back of my head with how good it felt.

I swear I think I spaced out the whole way here.

Thank god Joe drove.

Gray:Wishing she was sitting on my face with her little panties pulled to the side so I can lap her up.

Gray:Holding my cock while I fantasize that she’s sitting astride me while I fuck the hell out of her.

Honestly, I do not blush easily or at all.

And we sext like no one’s business when it’s a normal day and we’re both at work. Real dirty stuff too to make Gray wild and grab me up the moment I’m through the door.

But this has my whole face on fire.

This new moody Gray has no filter and all the fucking dirtiness I adore about him.

“Who are you texting?” Sena asks, with her legs up on a footrest, and a plate of finger food resting on her baby bump.

“Gray is sexting me.”

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