Page 68 of Manhattan Heart

And hope like hell I don’t stop his heart.

Six weeks to make up for… there is a good chance I’ll put us both in the morgue.

C H A P T E R 19

Gray

I’ve quickly gleaned over the weeks, that our pups are little assholes.

But it was far too late to return them for a refund because my girl is already in love with them. If I tell them no, the little shits run to India who immediately praises them. It’s seriously like having children. We need a puppy sitter if we are going to be out of the house for most of the day and they need constant attention. Lucky I like them, I guess.

They sit at her feet looking up at India like she’s their goddess.

She’s mine and those little assholes need to learn real fast who the alpha is in this house.

I watch them out of the corner of my eye while they try to slink their little butts into the bedroom without being detected. I point a finger daring them to take one more step. They try to look for India, who’s still in the bathroom. “To your room, boys, you can see your mom in the morning.”

Yeah, they have their own bedroom down the hall. India bought a ramp for them to climb so they can sleep on the double bed.

Spoiled little shits.

It’s even worse with our parents. Every time either my mom or India’s mom visit, they bring stuff for the dogs, like they’re buying for our kids.

My mouth twitches at one end as they turn around and trot off to bed.

No doubt in the night they’ll sneak back in here, because more often than not they are found in their dog bed across the room every morning.

I don’t note how India closes the main door over when she comes out of the bathroom, bringing with her all the good smells from the stuff she puts on her body after a shower. Padding across the room in her sleep underwear and a little T-shirt, she knees up onto the bed.

“I chose a movie,” I tell her, expecting her to crawl under the white comforter to get cosy so we can watch together.

That’s not what she does.

She takes the remote from my hand, switching off the TV, she discards it on the nightstand. She dims both lamps to moody shadows dancing over the walls. “We won’t be watching that.”

“Oh?” My eyebrows lift.

She’s already climbing astride my lap when she tells me, “We’re having sex and I swear to god, Gray, if you die, I will kill you myself.”

I’m a man who’s been on a sex ban after having sex more than the average man for the last four years, of course my cock hardens in seconds.

Call me eager, but I’m ready.

She’s serious, so I choke back my grin. “I swear on my dick, I won’t die while I’m inside you.”

Under the dimmed lighting in our high ceiling bedroom, her hazel gaze glitter as she goes on staring at me as if she’s trying to see the inside of me.

The swift impulse that sweeps through me is fast and undeniable and doesn’t need words of clarification. Like a cord has all of a sudden been tied around my neck, and then yanked to draw me closer to her, my body comes alive just like that.

My heart is already sprinting with arousal driving through my body and when she presses her hand over my chest and frowns, I smash her lips with mine to distract her from stopping me.

We need this.

We really fucking need this.

My mouth drops to hers, and she meets my kiss with a smile while I taste the perfect flavor of my wife.

That little grin of hers becomes sinful when a kiss just isn’t enough to satisfy either of us anymore. Her tongue strikes out against the seam of my already open lips, and it becomes awarof our unspent need crashing between us.

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