Exposed by Tracy Wolff

Author:Tracy Wolff [Wolff, Tracy]
Language: eng
Format: epub
Tags: Fiction, Romance, Contemporary, Contemporary Women, New Adult, Erotica
ISBN: 9781101884874
Google: 5z-wBAAAQBAJ
Amazon: B00O6V6AW6
Barnesnoble: B00O6V6AW6
Publisher: Random House Publishing Group
Published: 2015-05-03T16:00:00+00:00

Chapter 14

Chloe and I maintain a fragile peace for the next few days—due more to omission on my part and self-delusion on hers than on any compromises we’ve actually reached. But the longer I go without mentioning Brandon the more relaxed she gets, so that a week after we’ve gotten back from Vegas I feel comfortable bringing up another subject that’s been on my mind.

“I want to have a wedding reception,” I tell her over a breakfast of chocolate croissants from her favorite bakery on Prospect and a new strawberry almond-milk smoothie I got out of the cookbook Chloe gave me as a wedding gift.

She freezes, a bite of croissant halfway to her mouth, and gives me a look that’s half confusion and all horror. “I’m sorry? You want to have what?”

“A party.”

“You didn’t say a party. You said a wedding reception.”

“It’s pretty much the same thing, isn’t it?”

“Umm. No. Not really. Not so much. Not even a little bit, actually. Besides, I thought the whole brilliance of getting married in Vegas was that we didn’t have to have a reception. I mean, I was kind of fond of that aspect of the whole thing.”

“And here I thought you were fond of getting me as a husband.”

She raises a brow. “Let’s not let that ego of yours get too crazy now, huh?”

I laugh, because how can I not? I’ve hit the jackpot with this wife of mine—she’s sexy and sarcastic and so, so smart that sometimes it just blows me away. This morning is obviously going to be one of those times.

“Well, then I don’t want to have a reception,” I tell her. “I want to have a party celebrating the fact that I am married to the most wonderful woman in the entire world.”

She narrows her eyes at me. “Laying it on a bit thick now, aren’t you?”

“Not if it helps me get my way. Then I’m laying it on just perfectly.” I give her my most charming smile, even as I reach across the table for her hand. I open up the fist she instinctively made and press a slow, lingering kiss right to the center of her palm.

If possible, she looks even more suspicious. “No fair clouding my brain with sex to get out of this conversation.”

“Not even really good sex?” I ask, licking my way along her lifeline until the end, where it curves just above her wrist. She gasps a little, then moans as I deliberately sink my teeth into her mound of Venus, the fleshy part of her hand right at the base of her thumb.

“That goes without saying, doesn’t it?” she says after a second, her voice huskier and her eyes blurrier than they were just a few moments ago. “All sex with you is either really, really good or completely phenomenal.”

“Why does ‘really, really good’ suddenly feel like an insult?” I ask, a little disgruntled. Probably because I would have described all our sex as phenomenal.

“Maybe because you’re a compulsive overachiever with a serious competitive streak—even against yourself?”

“Huh.

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