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“I feel like I’m losing my mind not knowing something so big about you.”

She swallowed hard. Her voice was smaller, icier when she spoke. “I think there’s a lot of things you don’t know about me.”

“Then tell me.”

“I can’t.”

“Please? I want to know you…”

She hunched her shoulders, pulling away from me. I ached for her back, feeling like it was half my heart pulling away from me. The episode ended, and she took the remote to move onto the next episode immediately. I sighed.

“I’m sorry. I take it back.”

“It’s whatever,” she said, her voice cold.

“It’s not whatever. I don’t want to make you sad.”

She didn’t say anything. I shifted closer to her again, putting an arm around her waist.

“You know. Happy wife, happy life.”

“I’m not your wife, Paisley.”

“How could anyone not want to be my wife? Look at me.”

She sighed, hanging her head. “Christ, Pais, I’m sorry. I don’t mean to be so touchy. I just… I don’t like talking about this.”

“That’s okay. You don’t need to tell me anything,” I said, resting my head on her shoulder again. “I still love you.”

I told her I loved her all the time—you know, in between telling her I hated her—but somehow the words felt so scary right now, and it quivered a little in my throat when I did. I felt it tense, nervous in the air, before she sank into me too. “Yeah, yeah… I love you too,” she said, and it felt every bit as scary when she said it, too.

But it felt right, too. And I couldn’t breathe without her close to me.

We settled back in against one another as the next episode started, slipping my hand up under her shirt and caressing lightly along her waist, kissing softly along her arm and her shoulders and her neck, until one way or another, Harper was lying on her back with me on top of her, watching the show less and less as I kissed her collar, her neck, her jaw. Her lips.

I hadn’t even been trying to, but I couldn’t resist her. I slipped my lips against hers, kissing slowly, caressing her sides, tangling my hands in her hair, kissing—she wrapped her legs around me, murmuring something soft against my lips, slipping her hands up the back of my shirt, and it drove me absolutely wild. Like I had to kiss her, even though I already was—like I needed to kiss hermore,impossibly more.

When I took her lower lip lightly between mine, she murmured a soft moan, digging her fingertips into my back, before she pulled back, her face flushed and a breathless smile on her lips.

“You’re the one who harassed me into putting the show on, and I don’t think you’ve watched a single minute of it.”

“I’ve been enjoying a different show.” I stuck my tongue out, propping up on an elbow and tracing my fingertips along her collar. “Like… how cute my wife looks in casualwear.”

She closed her eyes with a breathless sigh. “You mean when I dress like a slob.”

“You look cute like this. Honestly. You could take a load off and stop worrying about how you come across all the time, but what do I know.”

“Mm… not really an option.”

“It is if I tell you…” I trailed my hands down her sides, taking the hem of her shirt between my fingers. “Exactly… what to do. And of course, you’ll do whatever I say. Won’t you, Harper?”

She turned her head, looking away, blushing hard. “I’m not… Paisley…”

“Now, now.” I took her by the chin, tilting her back to look at me, and she caught a shuddering gasp. The rush at controlling her flooded me with this heady sensation that always got out of control, but… I didn’t want to fight it. I bit my lip. “You look at me. Until I tell you to look away. Be a good girl, Harper.”

She swallowed hard, and with a quiet whimper, she nodded. Heat stirred in my abdomen, an aching urge to use her for all the fantasies I had. We’d already had sex at the bungalow and the other day in her bakery after hours, but I was finding I couldn’t get enough of her.

“Good girl,” I said. “Take your shirt off now. I want to see you.”