Page 74 of Sweet Surrender

But thanks to Nash and his cold-shoulder treatment, I had nothing todo but read and rediscover the love for an old passion.

The strange thing was, when he got home from work, I was sodesperate to tell him how much I’d enjoyed my day of reading only to be met with a stony silence, and that hurt more than finding out Liam had betrayed me.

On day three of Nash’s cold treatment, I was lying in Nash’s recliner,engrossed in the final chapters of the book, when in my periphery, I saw Brian appear in the doorway.

Of course, I ignored him.

“Mrs. Carson, I apologize for disturbing you,” he said politely. “But I’mhere to take you shopping.”

It took everything in me to not react. Shopping was one of my favoritethings in the world to do. Not because I was materialistic and liked spending money, but rather, I would spend hours looking at different clothes, feeling the material, examining the lines, deciding what tops went with what skirts, and what belts matched shoes.

But I wasn’t going to give in to Brian. Or Nash.

Not that easily anyway.

“And what if I don’t want to go shopping,” I replied, not pulling myattention away from the page.

“Mr. Carson would really like it if you did.”

I snorted. The man had some nerve. He ignored me for threedays straight, and then thought he could butter me up by sending me shopping?

Over my dead body.

“Yeah, well. Mr. Carson can kiss my ass,” I replied, still refusing tolook his way.

“Very well.”

He disappeared, and I tried to refocus on the page I’d been readingbefore he interrupted me, only I couldn’t concentrate. I had a horrible feeling I could expect my next dose of Nash’s sleep juice injected into me at any minute.

When a few more minutes passed, and Brian hadn’t reappeared witha syringe in hand, I managed to read the same paragraph three times before my phone dinged from the side table with an incoming message.

I ignored it for all of ten seconds when curiosity got the better of me.

I’ll happily kiss your ass if you’re offering?

I scowled at my phone. Someone had changed their tune.

Oh, look! He speaks….

Technically, I didn’t speak. I texted.I see you’re still being defiant.

I rolled my eyes, putting the book down having forgotten what hadhappened in the paragraph I’d just read. I tapped out a reply telling him to shove his shopping trip up his ass, only to realize that all I was doing was proving that I was indeed being defiant.

I deleted the message before tapping out a new one.

How can I serve you, oh Holy one?

That’s a much better response, although Holy one isn’t necessary.You can refer to me as Master of Orgasms.

I rolled my eyes again, only this time I couldn’t help my lips twitchingin amusement. I liked playful Nash.

Why would I call you that? I wouldn’t want to give your enormous ego a bigger boost. Especially, when I faked EVERY orgasm.

The smile grew bigger knowing that my message would rattle him.There was nothing fake about any of the orgasms he’d given me, but it didn’t hurt to deflate his ego a little bit.

I stared at the phone, awaiting his reply, but when a few minutespassed, and there was no response, a pang of anxiety hit me which grew more intense with the longer he took to reply.

He knew I was joking, right? Surely his male pride could take a joke?