Page 77 of Desperate Games

“That’s the one.”

Clementine nods, still laughing.

“Oh my God, she’s going to tell you to put it in your—” Cecilia says.

“I know where it goes!” I shout, blushing hard enough to roast myself alive. “Jesus.”

“Listen,” Clem says seriously, leaning in. “This is what you do. You get your ass in bed. You get the rosebud. You turn on that bottom switch—the one with the swirl pattern, not the pulse, the swirl. Trust me. Then you think about Mr. Big & Broody and let your hormones do the rest.”

“Or,” Lucy adds, sipping, “you can just climb him like a tree and call it a day.”

“Guys, stop. I’m married now. This is serious.”

Clem arches a perfect brow. “And yet you’re not letting him tap it?”

I groan again and throw my face into my hands. “Oh my God! He married me for the babies. Not because he wants me.”

“Honey, there wouldn’t be babies if the man didn’t want you,” Aella points out.

She has a point.

“Okay, so we did kinda hit it off in bed, but I don’t know what I’m doing!”

“Sounds like you’re doing denial,” Cecilia deadpans.

“Hard denial,” Clem agrees. “Listen, Andy—if you’re into him, let yourself be into him. Pregnant doesn’t mean dead. And sometimes a girl’s gotta give her man motivation to move. Use the rosebud. Preferably when he’s home and within hearing range.”

“But—” I start, and then I stop, because the truth is, I don’t have a but.

I have a raging set of hormones, a ridiculously hot husband, and a little girl who already thinks I hung the moon.

Maybe that’s the problem.

Maybe I’m scared that it’s too good.

Because if I fall for him—like ass over teakettle fall—and he walks?

I’ll break.

But right now?

Right now, I might just break anyway.

Especially if I don’t find that rosebud toy.

Chapter Twenty-Two-Remy

We eat dinner out because Callie is starving the second her little ballet recital ends, and Andy has a craving for steak.

I take them to the best spot in town—an unassuming little steakhouse run by a chef who was trained in Brazil.

The man does ungodly, beautiful things with charcoal and grass-fed beef.

I swear, one bite and you forget there’s anything else in the world.

Callie demolishes her meal.

Andy lingers over hers, her lips shiny with butter and salt, eyes fluttering shut with each bite like she’s tasting heaven itself.