Page 34 of The Grump I Married
“Oh my God, is that you?” I said, snatching the photo right out of his hand. “Look how little you were!”
“Yes, amazing,” he said, deadpan. “I was once a small child, like everyone else on earth.”
“It is surprising to some. But look at you. You were so cute!” I argued. “And you were also blond!”
Weston flushed as I cooed over the image.
“Give it here,” he said, trying to steal the photo back.
I popped out of my chair. “No, I’m not done! Are there more?” I went digging through the rest of the files, suddenly desperate to fill my need for pint-sized Weston. “There are! Look at them all.”
“Lena, no!” he said, standing.
“Lena, yes!” I said, scurrying around the table with a stack of photos. “Look at your tiny, dimpled smile.And your tiny kilt!” I gaped at him, trying not to laugh as Weston darted around the dining room, making a swipe for me. He caught me from behind with one arm, attempting to wrestle the pictures from me with the other, but I held firm. “Oh. My. God. I’m sending these to Cynthia. PR needs to put them everywhere.”
“Lena!”
“Oomph.” I lost my breath for a moment as I was pinned to the wall, Weston’s body pressing mine against what was probably five-hundred-year-old wallpaper. I sucked in a sharp breath, overwhelmed by the scent of his cologne. Why was he standing so close? My breath felt ragged and my pulse beat out of control as I lifted my head to look him in the eye. The pressure of his body was warm and very masculine and…What on earth was happening?
I’d stared into Weston’s green eyes hundreds of times over the years. Never once had I felt the way I did right now—tingly and slightly unhinged and like I’d been untethered from the ground.
There was something different about the moment.
Somethingcharged.
My eyes briefly dropped to his lips, an unfamiliar desire crashing through me?—
—but then, the next thing I knew, Milo was barking up a storm, and I had two giant paws coming right for me.
“Ack, Milo!” I cried. “You smell like mulch.”
Weston stumbled back, clearing his throat as he said, “Probably chasing Bonnie around the yard. He hasn’t taken a liking to her.”
“Me neither,” I muttered, staring at the floor and smoothing the wrinkles from my top to disguise my horrible blush. Thankfully, Weston didn’t seem to notice as he snagged Milo’s collar, dragging him out of the room.
“You’re not taking those photos anywhere,” Weston said, his words growled low against my ear, the heat of his breath chasing a shiver down my neck. “Give them back.”
“Are you gonna make me?” I said, eyeing him up.
He shifted, his weight pressing against me firmly as we moved against the?—
—floor?
How the hell had we gotten down here? And since when was he topless? I ran my hand over a broad shoulder and down a firm pec as I became aware of a pulsing need between my thighs.
“I can’t have you misbehaving,” he said, his words rolling as he flexed his hips.
“It’s just a couple of pictures,” I whispered. I felt my body pulsate beneath him.
“Do you always do the opposite of what you’re told?”
“You should know me well enough to answer that question yourself,” I replied as he rolled his hips, and I bit back a groan. My mouth dropped open, the pulse becoming unbearable. I let my hands drift down his back.
“Answer me,” he growled. He buried his nose against my neck before lightly biting the muscle.
My fingers hitched on cloth. Oh my fucking God! Was he wearing a kilt? My eyes shot open, and I launched out of the dream, flushed and panting as half-naked dream-Weston slipped away.
“No,” I groaned, flopping back on my pillow and pressing a hand to my forehead. I wasn’t ready for dream-Weston to slip awayjust yet. The pulsing between my thighs begged…no,demandedto be satiated. I squeezed my legs together and moaned at the feeling. Whoever the hell this version of him was, I wanted him to finish what he’d started.
