Method(94)

“Point taken, but we don’t need a multi-million-dollar mansion.”

“It’s an investment, one I’m actually not that terrified to make.”

“Guilt me why don’t you, so I can’t even argue with this!”

He grins. “You’ll make this place a home. And we’ll fill it with little brats.”

“I don’t like you going back on our agreements.”

“I get it, baby, but when I agreed to ditch that town home, the deal was we find a place of our own, one that makes us both happy until we start having brats.”

“Who says they’ll be brats? And you think I’ll be happy knowing I’m a kept woman?”

“They will be brats. Case in point, the look on your face. And God, that’s so sexy, say ‘kept woman’ again,” he says with a laugh as I nail him in the head with a pillow. “Say it again. No wait, say ‘barefoot and pregnant.’”

“You’re a pig.”

“God, I’m getting hard just thinking of you naked on that kitchen island.”

“Lucas, focus. Go cheaper. It’s not that much of a stretch.”

“This is our house, Dame. If it’s anything like the pictures, it’s ours.”

“It would be your house. You would be the one paying for it.”

“Stop it. We didn’t sign a prenup for a reason.”

“Yeah, and that reason is temporary insanity on your part. This is serious, Lucas. What if we don’t work out?”

“Then you have this place. And I’ll give you 50 percent of what the house is worth.”

“How is that fair?”

“Trust me, you’ll earn it,” he swears, eyeing the screen. Rarely have I seen him this excited. “Dame, I want this for us. I want this space, I want you to cook dinner for me in this kitchen. I want this.”

The eagerness in his voice isn’t something I’m used to, and I can’t help but give into his logic. We’ll never be on even playing ground. He’s a millionaire, and I’ll be lucky to earn six figures every other year when doing well as a sommelier. There’s no contest.

“Fine.”

“Fine?”

“I just don’t want you holding this against me. And no laughing at my paychecks.”

He shakes his beautiful head. “You know me better than that.”

I do. And I trust him with everything I have.

“And don’t say we won’t last again. That’s some shitty talk, Mrs. Walker.”

“Because all Hollywood marriages last, right?”

“Stop it,” he says softly. “We will last. You have to know that deep down. We are different. We aren’t like anyone else. And I’m so proud of that. So proud.”

Feeling guilty, I flick my eyes to the carpet. “Sorry. You’re right. That was a shitty thing to say.”

“You’ve got entirely too much sass in that beautiful ass of yours. You know,” he says, his voice dropping low as he closes his laptop and tosses off the sheet, his expression telling me to run while I have the chance. “You could have a little more faith.”

Nervous laughter escapes me as he emerges naked from the bed and I give chase. Squealing through the cottage, I fake left then right, running through the house as my naked man chases me at a full sprint.

“I have faith!” I scream at the top of my lungs as he lunges for me and misses, smacking into a wall before pivoting on his feet lightning fast.

“How in the hell did you do that?” I screech as I make a run for the couch and he captures me before we both go over the lip. He lands at my back in the cushion behind me.

“I’ll never get the image of you running naked out of my head,” I huff in an attempt to catch my breath as he starts working my panties down my thighs, using his heel to drag them the rest of the way. Our chests are rising and falling rapidly as he whispers into my shoulder. “Sexy, huh?”

“More like disturbing,” I say as he bites into my shoulder. “I mean I guess your cock looks cute bouncing around like it’s homeless.”

“Cute,” he says with a grunt, pressing his new hard-on between my ass cheeks as a threat.

“Maybe I can knit it a little hat, so it doesn’t catch a draft as much as you run around here naked. I swear I married a nudist.”

“Are you complaining?”

“Maybe,” I say cheekily. I would absolutely hate it if he started wearing more clothes.

He lifts my hair with his fingers and nips at the back of my neck. “Well, I love you naked,” he says, lifting my T-shirt off and slowly pumping his cock through my legs, toying with me as my clit pulses.

“Please,” I say, grinding my ass against him. “No more playing.”

“You need to have more faith, Mila.”

“Maybe,” I gasp out, his length nudging me from beneath. He slides his palm from my belly to my sex, tracing the pad of his finger over my clit, back and forth, using my slickness to ready me.

He’s everywhere, his hot mouth melting me into a wanton puddle beneath his magic hands. I don’t realize how big I’m smiling until it fades and I moan as he drags the head of his cock through my pussy from behind. “Oh, God.”