Staring up at the ceiling, I toss one end of the rope I’m holding over the exposed beam above me and catch it when it drops through.

The bar is quiet. McGill’s typically doesn’t close on Saturdays, but with Danny and Hattie, Beth’s uncle and aunt, being out of town most of the day, they decided to keep things locked up so Beth wouldn’t be running things alone.

I appreciated that. I didn’t want her stressing out or worrying she wasn’t handling things. And it worked out with the Halloween party tonight. We’ve had time to get everything ready.

“I don’t know about this,” I say, giving the two ends of the rope a tug. “I get making this place look creepy for the party, but what about Nolan and Chase? Isn’t it kind of fucked up having nooses hanging from the ceiling with kids here? It’s morbid, right? What if Nolan is like ‘Uncle Weed, what’s that for?’ What am I supposed to say? No. Yeah, no, we’re not doing this.” I pull the rope off the beam. “The spiderwebs and ghosts we got up are enough. I’m not traumatizing kids and then getting my ass beat when I do traumatize them.”

Ben wouldn’t hesitate. He’d kill me. I know he would. It doesn’t matter how long we’ve been friends or how much my death might upset people—mainly the girls in the group.

I can’t imagine Luke shedding a tear over my demise.

Beth doesn’t respond, not even with a reassuring, “You’re being silly. Ben would never kill you,” and when I turn around to look for her, expecting an empty bar behind me to explain her silence, I see her standing in the same spot she was in a minute ago.

Behind the counter, rag in one hand and an apple she’s wiping off in preparation for tonight in the other. Bobbing for apples is one of the games she’s putting together for the kids. I didn’t think it was necessary to clean off the apples since they’re going in a big bucket of water anyway, but Beth thought it was important, and while I’ve been decorating, she’s been wiping pesticides off fruit.

Up until this point, she’s moved through the process rather quickly. Now, though, with her eyes fixated on the rope in my hand, she seems to be slowing down. Or maybe she just found the world’s dirtiest apple. I don’t know, but if she doesn’t move on soon, she’s going to take the skin right off that thing.

“Sweetheart.”

Beth’s eyes snap up, and her hand holding the rag stills. “Mm?”

She’s fresh-faced, no makeup on yet, has her hair pulled back in a messy pony with several pieces falling out by her ears, and looks one bend away from busting out of the Nirvana shirt she’s wearing. The material is stretched tight across her belly.

I smile at her.

My wife is sexy as fuck pregnant.

“What are you doing, Mrs. Tennyson?” I ask.

Beth smiles then, and fuck, what that smile does to me.

That’s her Reed smile. She calls it that, so it’s not weird that I call it that. And fuck anyone who says it’s weird.

I get that smile. Not them. Never them. So fuck off. I’ll call it what I want.

“Cleaning off the apples for the party,” she answers with a sweet tilt of her head.

I chuckle. “I think that one you got there’s good. You can probably move on.”

Beth blinks, looks down at her hands, and then quickly drops the apple into the large tin bucket on the bar. She huffs out a breath.

“You all right?” I cross the room and stop in front of her, folding the rope and setting it down between us on the bar top. I keep my hands wrapped around either end. “Beth . . .”

Lips parted, cheeks flushed, eyes wide and glassy, she stares at the rope.

I can hear her breaths leaving her. Ragged. Wanting.

Hungry.

“Uh . . .”

“I miss getting tied up,” she shares, lifting her chin to look at me.

My eyes widen.

She clears her throat, pausing for a breath. “Not that the sex we’re having now isn’t amazing, because it is,” she continues. “But it’s not you, Reed. You tie me up and you spank me and you do really dirty things, freaky things, awesome things, and you’re not doing them anymore. We’re having Beth is pregnant sex. And I miss Beth is just as much of a freak as I am sex. Because I am. I mean, you know, with you I am. And watching you with that rope is driving me crazy. Because I know what you can do with that rope, Reed. I know exactly what you can do with it. And I want that. So, yes, I agree with you. Hanging nooses from the ceiling is a bad idea. But you tying me up with that right now is not a bad idea. It’s a great one. It’s an idea that needs to happen before I explode.” Her shoulders sag. She places her hand on her swollen belly and nods once. “There. I said it.”

Eyebrow cocked, I look from her face to the rope in front of me and back up again.

Jesus. That shit almost sounded rehearsed.

“You been wanting to say that to me?” I ask, needing to know if it was.

“Yes.”

“For a while?”

“Yes.” She drags her teeth across her bottom lip. “I know you’re worried, but I checked with my doctor and she said we’re fine. A lot of pregnant women spot in the beginning. It had nothing to do with you restraining me the way you did that night. She said it didn’t.”

What the . . . “You told your doctor about the way we fuck?”

“I needed to make sure it wasn’t what caused the bleeding. And it wasn’t.”

I run my hand down my face, a heavy breath leaving me.

Jesus Christ. I suspended Beth from the ceiling that night and took her ass while she rode a dildo. Now the entire Obstetrics department at St. Joseph’s Hospital is probably aware. News like that travels.

I’m sure my name will be mentioned in textbooks now.

Reed Tennyson—the man who took his kink too far. Don’t do what he did.

I exhale slowly. “Beth—”

“I miss you.”

Her whispered confession lowers my hand and presses a heavy weight on my chest.

“I know you need that stuff,” she continues, her shoulder lifting with a jerk. “I know you love doing it. And . . . well, I need it too.”

“I need you,” I correct her, needing this to stick since she’s obviously questioning it. “I don’t need to tie you up to get off, Beth. I feel like I’ve made that point pretty damn clear. You smile at me and I’m like . . . fucking there, just from that. You know how you get to me. I’ve told you. It doesn’t take much.”

“I know. But it’s not the same.”

“Sweetheart . . .”

“Reed, please.”

“What if I hurt the baby?” I throw my fear out into the open between us. “What if I go too far with it and something happens? The last time we played, you started bleeding, Beth. I can’t . . .” I shake my head as that same worry forms a knot inside my stomach. “I can’t stop picturing that. It scared the fuck out of me. I didn’t know what the hell was happening. I thought I was losing you both.”

The sound of Beth calling out from the bathroom—I can still hear it. The panic in her voice. The fear. I can still see the tears in her eyes. I can’t do it.

“I can’t,” I tell her.

She pulls her lips between her teeth and looks away, blushing in her embarrassment for bringing this to my attention. For wanting it, maybe.

I frown.

She’s disappointed now.

Fuck though. Not as much as I am.

My wife needs something and I can’t give it to her.

My hands grow tighter and tighter around the rope as I take in a deep breath, thinking, weighing the consequences. I play devil’s advocate with myself.

I could do this with Beth and everything could be fine. That incident was a one-time thing. It wasn’t even related to what we did. Listen to the doctor. Doctors know everything.

Or . . .

Fuck that doctor. She doesn’t know shit. I was too rough with my wife and nearly cost us our baby. The best thing to do is wait the five months we have left. What’s wrong with regular, standard-issue sex? With Beth? Nothing. That shit’s fantastic.

But she’s right. I do love the really dirty things we used to do. The freaky things. Awesome things. God, do I love it. She’s so right.

The act of sex isn’t the only thing that gets me off. It’s the lead-up with Beth. The prolonged, almost agonizing wait. The way she looks with her hands above her head or behind her back. Her skin—wrapped in rope. Glistening with sweat and red from my mouth. How she quivers and drenches my hand the second I touch her. The begging. The begging. How we’re both shaking and panting when I finally . . . finally take.

Okay, so maybe we don’t go all in.

Fifty percent kink. Fifty percent normal fucking. That might work.

“Maybe we just don’t involve any dildos,” Beth murmurs, her eyes slowly meeting mine again.

I laugh under my breath, feeling lighter, like she somehow plucked the worry right out of me. And when I open my mouth to tell her “Okay,” or “Maybe, we can try it,” she cuts me off.

“It isn’t me, right?”

My brow furrows. “What?”

Hands resting on her belly, Beth looks down at herself. “I know this gets in the way a little,” she says. “I already look so different. My face is rounder and God, my butt—”

“Don’t even finish that thought, ’cause that’s fucking crazy,” I interrupt, lifting her head. “Your ass could be the size of this room, and I’d still want to do you at all times. You being pregnant, Beth? I am into that. I am into that in a big fucking way.”

“Really?”

“Yes. Are you kidding?”

She blinks, and I can see on her face how much doubt she’s holding onto.

I could tell Beth anything right now. I could say how unbelievably attracted I am to her, looking the way she does. I could tell her she’s never looked more beautiful to me, and it wouldn’t matter. She wouldn’t hear it.

I look down at the rope again and run my thumb over the harsh fibers. “Fuck,” I groan, pushing it aside. “I can’t use that. It’ll hurt you.”

Her shoulders pull back. “What?” she whispers, voice racing with excitement.

“That isn’t like the rope I use and I don’t have any with me, so . . . I mean, if you want to do this now, I’m gonna have to use something else. Or we can wait until tonight when we get home, which I think is the better idea. Hattie or whoever could walk in and catch us. I can’t imagine explaining to anyone why I have you tied up on the bar. Or what that would do to business here.”

McGill’s Pub would close. I would be to blame for it.

That’s nice. I’m sure Danny would really warm up to me after that.

“There’s always the storage room.”

My brow lifts at her suggestion.

Beth wets her lips and steps closer, reaching for the rope. “Hattie and Danny won’t be back until later after the party starts. And nobody else is coming in. The door is locked. But just to be on the safe side, we could use the storage room. It’s private.”

“And what are you doing with that?” I ask, tipping my chin at the rope as she clutches it against her belly. “I told you. It’s too rough.”

“You’re wearing a belt, right?”

“Yes.”

“I have an idea.”

“Do you?” I smirk, bringing my arms across my chest and standing tall. “A kinky one?”

“I think so.”

“That’s fucking hot. Care to share, Beth Davis from McGill’s?”

Her eyes narrow as she fights a smile. “That’s not my name anymore.”

“I know. It’s just a habit.”

“Have you changed it in your phone yet?”

I nod my head, grinning. “No.”

“Reed,” she giggles.

“What? It makes me happy when I see it.”

“Oh, and seeing Beth Tennyson from McGill’s wouldn’t make you happy?”

“That would make me lose my mind.”

“Then change it.”

“I will. I just like remembering you and your dick deprivation. Oh, how far you’ve come, sweetheart.”

She throws her head back and laughs, hand to her chest.

I like to tease my wife about her little autocorrect mishaps. Telling me she didn’t get dick very often instead of sick very often right after we first met isn’t something I’m ever likely to forget about.

“Seriously though, Beth, if we do this, I need to be careful. Okay? For me and my own sanity. Nothing too wild.”

“Careful,” she repeats through a smile.

“Yes.”

“That can be hot.” Her voice drops lower and melts, moving like a warm touch up my spine and making my skin tingle. I feel it everywhere.

Everywhere.

Dick hardening in my slacks, I watch Beth move down the bar. Her eyes meeting mine over her shoulder, drawing me in . . . in.

“Is that a we’re doing this now, so move your ass look?”

“Come with me, Mr. Tennyson.”

My chest heaves.

Right. Fucking right.

We’re doing this now.

The storage room is just off the kitchen, nestled in the back corner of the pub beside the giant, walk-in refrigerator.

I’ve never been back here when it’s been this quiet. I can hear every sound as I follow close behind her—the smack of Beth’s boots against the wood floor. Her heavy breathing. The thundering beat of my heart.

Beth walks through the kitchen and steps inside the room, flicking on the light overhead. I follow in behind her and look around the small space.

I’ve been in here before. Once, to help Danny lift something. Crates of canned food and supplies are stacked against the wall and scattered along the floor. There’s a metal table in the middle of the room, which I know is used for sorting. Aside from that, there’s really nothing else in here. And there’s definitely not much room. But it’s secluded. It’s got a locking door.

Very private.

I close the door behind me and lock it, drawing Beth’s attention before she stops beside the table and turns around.

“So, I was thinking you could use your belt to bind my wrists together, and then tie the rope to the belt?”

I follow her eyes to the exposed beams above her head.

God bless Danny for keeping shit rustic in here. I fucking love that guy.

“You want your hands above your head?” I ask, stalking closer, my fingers working at my belt. I whip it off.

Beth sucks in a breath. “Yes,” she whispers, tipping her chin up to look at me when I stop an inch away. “God, yes, please.”

I smirk. “Begging already, sweetheart? I haven’t even touched you yet.”

“It isn’t going to take much.”

“Really?” I run my finger down the side of her neck to the dip between her collarbones, feeling the wild hammering of her pulse and the labored swallow she seems to manage.

“Really really.”

“Mm.” I take the rope out of her hand and place it on the table with my belt, leaning in to press my lips to her ear. “Get undressed.”

Beth nods once, immediately reaching for the hem of her shirt. Her fingers tremble.

“Nervous?” I ask, stepping back to watch.

“No. Worked up.”

“Yeah?”

“Reed, you have no idea. I’m like, the horniest woman ever.”

“Lucky me.”

Her shirt hits the floor. Her bra is next.

Panting, she locks eyes with me and wets her lips, and that’s when I finally look at all of her.

I stare at her swollen tits, so full and heavy, and the bump she has.

Being as tiny as she is, Beth started showing early. It seemed to happen overnight. She woke up two months ago and boom. There it was. It shocked us both. Beth seemed a little uneasy at first. But me? I was fucking giddy over it. I still am. I love looking at her. God, I love it. Her body is fucking unreal all the time, but like this? With her nipples a shade darker and permanently hard, just aching for my mouth. The curve of her hips. Her ass, peach-shaped and tasting as ripe as one—I would fucking know. I eat it enough. Jesus. It’s torture looking at her and not touching. But I do look.

Seconds tick by, and it gets to her as much as it’s getting to me. The waiting. The watching I’m doing. Shyness dips her head.

“Do you see how hard I am, Beth?” I ask, shoving my jeans and boxers down.

Head still lowered, she looks at me from beneath her lashes. At my dick, and my hand moving over it. Stroking. I squeeze the tip and moan.

“Fuck, I don’t think I’ve ever been this hard before,” I rasp. “It hurts, Beth. My dick . . . God. Do you see it? Do you see how much I want you?”

“Reed.”

She only says my name, but she’s begging me.

To move. To do something. Anything.

I grab my belt.

I don’t need to tell Beth how to position her hands. She knows, and she never hesitates. She never did. Even in the beginning, the first time I did this with her, she was always so willing. So trusting.

That drove me fucking wild. It still does.

Linking her fingers together, she extends her arms out in front of her, offering them to me.

“You were made for me. Do you know that?”

Her cheeks burn hot.

I loop the leather around her wrists, pull the strap through the buckle, and tug hard, tightening it.

She gasps at the pressure.

“Okay?”

“Yes,” she says, nodding, wetting her lips. “I’m okay. I’m okay.”

“Fuck, I love you.” I kiss her, fast and hard, and grab the rope.

She giggles. “Wait. What about my pants?”

“We’ll get to that. First things first . . .” I secure a knot around the belt where the backs of Beth’s wrists are touching and test it, yanking on the end and giving her arms a light jerk. “Wouldn’t want you to get free,” I tease.

She blushes and bites her lip.

“Ready?”

“Hurry.”

“So bossy, Mrs. Tennyson. Don’t forget who’s tied up here.” I toss the rope over the thick, wooden beam and pull until Beth’s arms are fully extended above her head. Her back is arched, her lips parted, breaths leaving her like she’s being chased. If I were to pull any more, she’d go up on her toes, which is typically where I like her to be, but . . .

“Careful,” I remind her, when her eyes question why I’m not putting any more tension on the rope.

She nods once and watches me tie the end of the rope to one of the table legs.

The table is heavy. Solid metal. The only way she’s lifting it and putting slack on the rope is if she starts swinging from it. And that won’t be happening.

I’m a dirty fucker, but even I have limits.

“Now, about those pants.” I move behind her and run my hands down her sides, pressing my lips to the skin beneath her ear as my fingers tease the button of her jeans. “Mm. Do you feel that?” I ask, my cock rubbing her hip. “I think I’ll leave mine on and fuck you like this—just my dick out. What do you think? Are you gonna get it nice and wet for me if I do that?” I smile when all she can do is nod, her breathing so ragged she can’t form words anymore. I unfasten the button and slowly drag the zipper down. “But where should I fuck you . . . that is the question. I’ll leave this up to you. Where do you ache most, sweetheart? Here?” I push my hand into her panties and thrust two fingers inside her.

“Oh, fuck,” she gasps, her back arching away and her arms shaking. “Oh . . . oh, God.”

“No need to be formal when I’m finger-fucking you, Beth. I’ll answer to Reed.” I chuckle darkly, biting her neck. “Now, option two. I’m going to need to slide these pants down so I can get to that sweet little hole. Are you okay with that?”

“Yes.”

“So, you’re saying you want me in your ass . . .”

She drops her head forward and whimpers. “You know I do.”

“I do. I just like hearing you say it.” I pull my fingers out and drag them over her clit until she shudders. “Say it, Beth. Or I’ll stay right here and do this for hours.”

I’m bluffing. I’m too hard not to fuck her until we both can’t walk, and I think she knows that, until . . .

“Yes!” she cries out, craning her neck to glare at me. “I want you in my ass, okay? I want you everywhere, Reed. God, just . . . hurry up and do it already. I’m dying. Get in my ass.”

I smile, keeping my laughter silent, and kiss her cheek. “You might want to watch the volume. I’m pretty sure our daughter can hear you.”

Beth blinks, eyes going as round as saucers, her lips pinching together into a tight thin line.

“Horniest woman on the planet. You weren’t lying,” I tease.

“Well . . . you asked for it.”

I lose the smile and bring my fingers to my mouth, letting her watch me suck them. “You’re perfect,” I say. Fuck, the way she tastes. “Absolutely fucking perfect. I don’t deserve you.”

“Yes, you do.”

“I’m glad you think so. Not that I’d let you back out of this now even if you tried. But I would feel bad leaving a pregnant woman tied up in a storage room.”

She giggles sweetly, and we share a kiss that’s too tender for this moment, but we let it happen anyway. And even though our lips are soft and there’s barely any tongue, we’re both still panting when I pull away, because it’s us, and we know what’s coming.

We share a look—desire. Beth wets her lips. I squeeze the base of my dick until I groan, grip the sides of her jeans and yank them down to her thighs. Her panties follow. Then moving to stand beside her, I cup her pussy with one hand and slide my other between her cheeks.

I’m not smiling anymore. Neither is she.

I dip a finger into her pussy until it’s wet enough to press against her ass and do just that, slipping past that impossibly tight ring of muscle to the place where she grips me. I move my digit in and out. Her mouth falls open and her eyes roll closed.

“Reed,” she gasps, wiggling against my hands, taking me deeper.

Two fingers in her pussy. One in her ass. I drop my head beside hers and bite her jaw.

“You squeeze me so fucking tight,” I say, licking my way to her mouth. “Fuck, Beth.”

“More,” she begs.

I don’t ask where, because I know where. I know Beth. I know us.

I wet a second finger, push two in her ass, and add a third in her pussy. I fuck her steadily, rubbing my cock against her and moaning into her mouth.

“Fuck,” I breathe, pumping my hips and sliding along her skin. I stare at myself, at the swollen head dripping. “God, Beth, I could come like this.”

She’s so soft and warm, and wet. So fucking wet.

“Oh . . . oh, God.” Beth sags against me and rolls up onto her toes. “Let me come. Let me come,” she begs, knowing I’d typically stop now so I could feel her go off around my cock, but fuck, she doesn’t need to beg. Not now. Not like this.

I can’t stop.

“Yeah, do it,” I tell her, holding the fingers in her ass still and just fucking her pussy now. “Come. Come all over me, and I’ll lick it up after.”

“Oh shit.” Her back arches. “Reed. Oh . . . oh, God, yes. Yes!”

By some miracle, I’m able to slow the thrusting of my hips as she clamps down on my fingers, and lazily rub myself on her stomach. Beth moans through her orgasm, turning her head so I can take her mouth. I suck on her tongue, her body trembling and those sweet pulses dying out until she’s sighing and sated.

“God,” she pants against my mouth. “That was—”

“Nothing yet.”

I slip my fingers out of her and put a good amount of slack on the rope, then I press against her back and squeeze her breast with the hand she just drenched. “Bend over so I can eat. I’m fucking starving,” I growl against her ear, biting the lobe.

“O-okay.” Beth drops her elbows on the table and leans forward, sticking her ass out.

Standing behind her, I remove her boots and peel her jeans off so she can widen her legs. I drop to my knees and hold her open with one hand, stroking my cock with the other as I stare.

“Fuck, look at you.” I lean in and swipe my tongue between her legs, licking her cunt. She gasps and sits back, pushing more of herself into my mouth, and I groan. “You taste fucking unreal, you know that? So sweet. Like honey.”

“Reed.”

I lick up to her ass and wiggle my tongue inside her.

“Oh yes,” she moans.

I chuckle. “Dirty girl. Always want me right here, don’t you?” I slap her ass. She yelps, and I keep eating, moving my tongue all over her. Dipping in and out. Circling. “I’m not stopping until I get it all. Every last drop, Beth.”

“Shit.” Again, her thighs begin to shake, and she rolls up unto her toes and pants my name, over and over.

I pull back and stare. “Fuck. Are you coming again?”

Beth doesn’t answer. She can’t. She’s moaning and cursing because she is.

And there is no fucking way I’m not feeling that around my cock this time.

“Hold on. Fuck. Just hold on for me.” I stand and twist her around so we’re facing each other. Her eyes are wide. Her head flops on my shoulder.

“I can’t. I can’t stop,” she pants, elbows bent above her head. “Reed, hurry.”

I lift her up and set her on the edge of the table, grab the base of my dick, and sink in.

Wet. Tight. Perfect.

Fuck.

“Beth,” I gasp, just the first inch inside. “Good God, holy fuck.”

“Fuck me. Please!”

I guide her legs around my waist and reach around her to pull the rope free from the table. She stretches out on her back, arms still bound, which she keeps above her head. And when I watch her lips form that word again, hurry, with her eyes rolling closed, I squeeze her tits and thrust in.

“Yeah. Fuck yeah. Just like that,” I pant, bucking into her wildly.

“Reed.” Her body locks up, her pussy jerking my dick as her orgasm rips through her. “Yes! Oh, God. Don’t stop.”

“I can’t,” I tell her. I bend down and suck her nipple into my mouth, moaning against her slick skin. “Ah, fuck. Fuck! Touch me. Fucking touch me, Beth. Please.”

Beth’s fingers slide into my hair and tug until my eyes water.

“Ah, yeah, God. Fuck yeah.” Blood rushes in my ears. My orgasm races down my spine and tingles in my balls. “Close,” I grunt. Growling into her cleavage, I fuck her deep, keeping myself from getting too rough with her, and I think I have it—that discipline it takes to keep from getting too lost, too wild in this moment, but then I feel her nails dig into my scalp, and it’s over. I can’t.

And doctor’s blessing and all, so why not?

I lean away just enough to watch her, keeping her hands in my hair, and fuck her mad, crashing my hips against the back of her thighs. The table beneath us drags along the floor, screeching over our grunts and heavy breaths. Beth’s heels dig into my back. Sweat drips from my brow onto her tits, and I lick it up. My vision blurs. Right there. Right there. I suck and suck on her skin until she demands I bite her. And when my teeth sink into the plump flesh around her nipple, I come with a growl.

“God . . . damn,” I murmur, breathless and body spent. I kiss the red sting away and lick up to her neck, moaning, “Beth. Beth. Beth.”

Her name is my favorite sound.

She hums in content beneath me, stroking my hair. “Well done, Mr. Tennyson.”

I smirk, lifting my head to meet her eyes. “I wasn’t too . . . me, was I?”

It’s still a fear, even though I have all the assurance I need. I know it’ll always be something I worry about.

I couldn’t live if I hurt her.

“You were perfect.” She hits me with that smile, my smile, and sighs. “Everything. You were everything.”

I look down at her flushed cheeks, her messy hair falling out of her pony, and her lips—wet and ready. I bend and take them in a kiss that matches my dependency for this woman. Heavy. Pulse-pounding. And all-consuming. Even in the moments after, when my limbs can barely hold me up and I couldn’t feel more connected to Beth, it’s still there. That desperation. I’m hopeless against it. I’m hopeless against her.

In this bar, I’ve always been. From that very first kiss.

“I believe we have a party to get ready for,” I murmur, kissing her softly now.

“Mm. Just a few more minutes of this.”

“A few more minutes, and I’ll be hard again.”

“I know.”

I lean away, eyebrow cocked. “Good Lord, Beth. I just made you come how many times?”

She bites at her lip, fighting a smile. “I don’t know. Three?”

“Are you still horny?”

“It kind of doesn’t go away,” she reveals. “But, I mean, it’s not me. I read something about pregnant women being like this. It isn’t weird or anything.”

I chuckle and press a soft kiss to her mouth. “Well, that settles that. We’re having thirty kids now. One after the other. TLC will probably offer us a show.”

“Reed,” she giggles.

“I could stop working. Hell. You could stop working. We can just fuck all day and collect our checks.”

“And eat,” she says, beaming up at me and no doubt remembering the time I suggested we do those two things, and only those two things, for the rest of the day. “Actually, I am pretty hungry. Maybe we can break for a snack real quick, and then I can tie you up?” Her brows wiggle suggestively.

Tie me up?

Yeah fucking right.

“You would hate every second of that, and you know it,” I say, knowing how my wife gets off better than she does.

“I’m not sure.” She pinches her lips together, thinking. “I might like it.”

“Beth.” I give her a look.

“What? Reed Tennyson, from McGill’s.” She gives me a look back, which she loses almost immediately when a laugh tears from my throat.

“God, I can’t wait to do this for the rest of my life with you,” I say, kissing her smiling lips.

“You and me,” she murmurs, her bound arms tightening around my neck.

I breathe deep, loving the way that sounds but even more, loving that soon, it’ll be changing to us—you, me, and her. Layla.

I close my eyes, happy, relaxed, my life so fucking good because of this woman.

The same one gently tugging on my hair and shyly requesting, “Um, Reed? About that snack . . .”