“Ewww, gross,” Kiks replies before turning and leaving with Lu close behind her.
George is still standing and staring at us. “I didn’t even know you could still do it at your age,” he states.
“What?” As soon as the words left my lips I wonder why I would even ask.
“Sex stuff. I thought you were too old.”
I feel Georgia’s shoulders shake as she laughs silently against my chest. I look into eyes the exact same shade as mine and, as calmly as I can, say to my son, “Take the dogs, George. Take the dogs and close the door on your way out.”
He calls Rooney and Becks, and they trot out of the room at his side, the door closing quietly behind them.
I pull Georgia’s hair gently so her face tilts up to mine.
“And what exactly has tickled your fancy, Kitten?” I ask, feigning seriousness.
“Rooney’s wet nose, and it wasn’t my fancy he tickled, it was my bum hole.”
“Lucky dog.”
“Never gonna happen, T. Besides, you’re too old for that kind of thing.”
“Like fuck I am. I’ll show you …” My voice trails off as I notice Georgia’s eyes fill with tears.
“Kitten?”
“Thank you,” she whispers as tears spill onto her cheeks.
“For what, baby?”
She holds her arms out palms up and moves them around her.
“For all of this. This life, our home, the chaos, our children. Bum-sniffing dogs. For all of it. Thank you for this second chance.” She smiles and sobs at the same time as more tears overfill from her pretty blue eyes. I shake my head.
“Georgia, this, our home, our kids. You never have to thank me for any of it. We built this together. Us baby, me and you. We’re each other’s second chance. Don’t ever thank me.”
I pull her in closer. My dick, which is still inside her despite the commotion that just went on around us, starts to stir, and I proceed to show my wife just how old I ain’t.
CHAPTER 4
Georgia
I turn off the shower and reach for a towel, singing to Chet Faker’s “The trouble with us”, as I do. I wasn’t a big fan of his earlier stuff, but I love this song.
I walk out of the en suite and into my bedroom as I wrap the towel around myself. Cam’s lying on our bed with his back pressed against the headboard, his big arms folded across his broad chest, and his long legs stretched out in front of him, crossed at the ankles.
I know he’s waiting for an explanation as to why he found me sleeping on my office floor, surrounded by empty wine bottles, and the contents of the packing crate labelled “Sean’s stuff”.
I know he won’t ask me about it. I know he’ll just wait until I’m ready to talk, and I know full well he knows I know all of this.
“That was an interesting homecoming, Kitten.” He both winks and smiles as he speaks, making my insides and toes curl simultaneously.
“Well, the orgasm was unexpected but most definitely welcome. Becks’ wet nose in my arse crack and our audience, hmmmm, not so much.”
“Never before in my life have I been jealous of a dog.” His eyes shine as he talks.
“Oh yeah, always wanted a cold wet nose, have you, Tiger?”
“If it gains me access to that tight little arse of yours, then fuck yeah, I can do cold and wet.”
There’s a moment of silence as we stare at each other. My heart hammering hard in my chest as I contemplate the conversation we need to have and the explanation I should offer.
Our relationship is based on total honesty, it always has been. Cameron King has never made me feel guilty for the thoughts, feelings, grief, or guilt I still carry for the death of my first husband.
He’s jealous and possessive, but he’s never ever done anything other than hold me tight and tell me to let it all out whenever I have a meltdown, which thankfully happens rarely these days.
I chew on the inside of my lip as his eyes rake over me from my head to my Racy Red shellac-coated toenails.
I try to organise my words before speaking. The last thing in the world I would ever want to do to this man is hurt him or make him feel as if he is anything less than the centre of my world.
The life we have, our children, the chaos that surrounds our hectic home life, the love we share, are all things I would sell my soul to keep. The man lying on our bed in front of me is responsible for it all, and I love him beyond any kind of measure. And yet, there’s Sean. There always has been Sean, and there always will be Sean.
I lick my dry lips and draw in a breath, preparing to offer my explanation, but he shocks the shit outta me by saying, “Come over here and talk to me, baby,” while patting the mattress next to him.
“Let me just put some clothes on,” I request.
“I prefer you naked.”