Part-Time Husband (Trophy Husbands, #1)

by Adams, Noelle

  Trevor chuckles. “You like that?”

  “Mm-hmm.”

  He moves his second hand up to fondle my other breast, and after a minute I’m moaning shamelessly. He’s growing hard against my bottom. I can feel him.

  “You’re tensing up,” he says against my ear.

  “Well, you’re making me crazy.”

  “Don’t fight it. Try to stay relaxed. Just let me take care of you.” His words are strangely tender, given the context and situation, and I respond to them instinctively, relaxing my body again.

  I let him stroke and caress me, channeling all the desire into my moans and whimpers, which are getting progressively louder. The foreplay goes on for a long time until I don’t think I can take any more.

  Then he finally slides one hand down to my clit.

  I cry out loudly as he rubs it. And in less than thirty seconds my body is coming apart. I’m shaking helplessly against Trevor’s body as the pleasure overwhelms me, and I know I’m way too loud, but I just can’t help it.

  Trevor is murmuring the whole time, “That’s right. You’re doing so good, baby. Let me make you feel good. That’s so good. Ride it out, baby. Take everything you want.”

  I’m limp and giggling a little when I finally come down from the high. He turns me around and pulls me into his arms, sloshing the water around us.

  “Seriously,” I say after I’ve recovered myself enough to talk. “Where did you learn all these amazing skills?”

  He laughs. “I just read some stuff online.”

  “You must be a quick study.”

  “Always.”

  We get out of the tub then and dry each other off. Then he carries me out of the bathroom and over to our bed. He puts me down. Moves on top of me. Kisses me hard and deep.

  I open my legs and guide him inside me as we kiss.

  We keep kissing as we start to rock together, and I wrap my legs around his hips. It goes on for a while before I sense the urgency tightening in his body. He breaks the kiss and starts to thrust harder, faster. He’s grunting uninhibitedly now, raw and primal, nothing hidden or held back.

  I’m surprised when an orgasm breaks inside me, and Trevor chokes on a stifled sound as my body clamps down around him. Then he’s coming too, letting everything go. He’s gasping out words as he pushes into me with clumsy need. “Melissa... baby... love... you... fuck... yes.”

  I wrap him in a hug when he’s worked his way through the spasms of his release. His body starts to soften in a way I love, like he’s found something he needs in me. I’m wet with his semen, but I don’t care at the moment. I just want to hold him like this.

  He presses a few kisses against my neck. “I can finally tell you I love you. I couldn’t for so long.”

  I stroke his back. “I love you too.”

  After a few minutes, I manage to get up and go to the bathroom to pee and clean up. Then I put on my pajamas, get bottles of water for both of us, and climb back into bed.

  I scoot over to his side since my side is wet, and he pulls me against him.

  “Tomorrow is Sunday,” he says.

  “Yes.”

  “We can sleep in.”

  “Yes.”

  “Maybe you’ll stay in bed until at least eight.”

  “Maybe.”

  I can hear a smile in his voice. “I think I can convince you.”

  “We’ll see.”

  He kisses me, and we go to sleep.

  I GET UP AT SEVEN THE following morning, but Trevor does manage to get me back into bed later in the morning for more sex.

  Then we go out to breakfast, go to the grocery store, and take it easy in the afternoon.

  We go to Sunday supper in the evening.

  Chelsea and Sam are already at the house when we arrive. Pop is in his leather chair with a glass of whiskey like normal.

  He looks up with a cold expression as Trevor and I come in.

  Trevor is holding my hand, and he doesn’t let it go.

  It’s only been a week since Trevor lashed out at Pop. Only a week, and yet it feels like the whole world has been broken and remade.

  Pop doesn’t say a word. Even his mustache is still.

  Trevor says, “I wanted to apologize for last week.”

  Still no reaction from Pop.

  “I was out of line. I was tired and angry and said things I didn’t mean. I’ve already apologized to Melissa. She’s forgiven me. But I need to apologize to you too.” He sounds stiff. I know this is hard for him. He’s having to put aside his own ego. That’s not easy for anyone but particularly not for Trevor.

  I’m so proud of him. I squeeze his hand.

  Pop doesn’t say a word.

  Trevor goes on, “I understand if you won’t forgive me, but I wanted to apologize anyway. Melissa is more important to me than anything, and I’d like for us to be able to get along. If not, I can live with it. But I won’t talk that way to you again.”

  He’s finished. Pop needs to say something now. He’s sitting perfectly still.

  I glance over to Sam, who’s on the couch. Her eyes are anxious as they meet mine.

  Finally Pop says, “You think I’m ever going to be okay with you?”

  I squeeze Trevor’s hand again and say, “Pop, it doesn’t matter if you’re okay with him or not. He’s my husband, and he’s going to stay that way. Like Trevor says, we’d like to get along since we’re family. But I love Trevor, whether you approve of him or not.”

  This evidently surprises him. His shoulders stiffen slightly, and his mustache quivers slightly. “You love that arrogant jackass?”

  “Yes, I love this arrogant jackass.” I take a deep breath and say something else, something much harder to say. “I love you too, Pop. I always have.”

  His mustache quivers even more.

  I go on. “But I can’t always wait around for you to accept me as I am. I’m Trevor’s wife, and I want to keep my position in Pop’s. I can do both. I can be both. And that’s what I want. But I can’t let you keep holding my job over my head like you’ve done. That’s not going to work for me. I can’t keep... fighting for my place. So if I have to find another job, then I will.”

  I’m shaking a little bit, and I know that Trevor will feel it. I’m so afraid that Pop will be stubborn and unable to accept that I’ve put my foot down. I don’t want to leave Pop’s. I don’t want a new job.

  I want this one, and I also want to be me.

  Pop makes a sudden, harrumphing sound. “No one’s getting a new job, girl,” he says gruffly. “Don’t be silly.” He stands up. “It’s time to eat.”

  Then he walks out of the living room.

  Trevor and I don’t move. We give each other wary looks, trying to process what just happened.

  Then I glance over to Sam and see that she’s smiling.

  Sam has always been the smartest of us sisters. If she’s happy with the way things went, then I can be too. I breathe out a sigh of relief, and Trevor pulls me into a quick hug.

  Chelsea has been in the kitchen, but she comes running out to join us. “Pop seems good!” she whispers. “You did it!”

  Maybe I actually did.

  ON SATURDAY, TREVOR and I take his parents to the lake.

  We eat a picnic, and then Trevor and his father fish while I read and Doris knits. It’s a sunny day and not too humid, so I enjoy the fresh air and relaxation. I hear Trevor talking to his dad about sports, and it makes me smile.

  It feels like family.

  It’s been a couple of hours when Doris says out of the blue, “Trevor is so happy.”

  She’s talking softly—just to me—and I lower my e-reader to smile at her. “I’m happy too.”

  “You look happy. And Trevor... well, you didn’t really know him before, but I’ve never seen him like this. He’s so happy it just oozes out of him, and I know it’s because of you. It’s more than that though. It’s like he’s settled in his own skin. Like he’s finally found his spot in the world.”
r />   The words strike me strangely, and I sit up, folding my legs beneath me. “You think so?”

  “Yes. I think so.”

  I feel a wave of pleasure washing over me. “I’m... glad. I feel like I’ve finally found my spot in the world too.”

  Doris looks like she’s going to respond, but Trevor must have heard us talking in hushed tones. He stands up and walks over to the blanket, lowering himself to sit beside me and wrap both arms around me. “It feels like you’re talking about me.”

  “No, dear. We have much more interesting things to talk about than you.” Doris reaches over and pats him on the arm with a chuckle.

  He meets my eyes. “You weren’t talking about me?”

  “Maybe a little,” I admit.

  “What were you saying?”

  “Your mom was saying that you’re happy.”

  “Oh. I am happy. No sense in trying to hide it.” He lifts my hands and kisses it just over my rings. Then he tilts his head and murmurs against my ear. “It’s been the best week of my life.”

  “Me too.”

  Epilogue

  SEVERAL MONTHS LATER, I’m finishing up a meeting with eight midlevel managers and experiencing an odd sense of accomplishment.

  I’ve had to announce some changes and give them a substantial new project, and I was anxious about how they’d respond.

  The meeting is over now, and everyone is smiling. In fact, they’re planning to stay in the conference room for a couple more hours and start making plans for the project. No one is shooting me cold glares. No one is muttering under their breath. They seem on board with the changes.

  I’m making progress.

  They don’t hate me, and they seem to believe I know what I’m doing.

  I’m not sure how or when this change took place—it’s been a gradual thing—but I can tell the difference very clearly as I thank them and leave the room.

  I’ll admit it.

  I’m kind of proud of myself.

  Pop might still grill me every Monday at lunch about how I need to do better, but I’ve managed to earn the trust of the people who report to me. Considering where I started, that’s no small feat.

  When I reach my office suite, I smile at my assistant, Becky, and say, “Can you order something for lunch for the folks in the conference room? They’re going to be working there for a couple more hours. And get something for yourself too.”

  “Do you want something for you?”

  “No,” I tell her. “My husband’s stopping by. We’ll be going out.”

  Becky seems pleased with this piece of information, and I’m thanking her when my phone chimes with a new text. Glancing at it, I see that it’s Sam, and I give Becky a little wave as I head into my office.

  I put down my stuff as I read Sam’s text.

  Hunter is out!

  Sam was in love with Hunter in high school, although he always kept her in the friend zone. He’s the only guy she’s ever gotten excited about, but then he made some really dumb mistakes, and Sam had to admit he was completely unavailable. Immediately interested, I reply, On parole?

  Yes. He wants to have lunch.

  Did you agree?

  Not yet.

  Do you want to see him?

  I don’t know.

  Ok.

  I DON’T KNOW!

  Well...

  HELP!

  I laugh softly at Sam’s obvious panic, although I can sympathize. I know exactly what it’s like to be thrown for a loop by a guy you’d tried to put out of your life for good.

  After thinking for a few seconds, I text back. He’s probably just being friendly and wanting to catch up.

  I know.

  You used to be friends, right?

  Yes.

  So...

  I guess I’ll have lunch with him.

  What can it hurt?

  What if I fall in love with him again?

  You’re not that stupid.

  Sam is smarter than me. She’s not going to fall for an ex-con who’s always only looked at her as a friend.

  I’m trying to think of something else encouraging to say when there’s a tap on my door. Thinking it’s Trevor, I call for him to come in.

  It’s not Trevor. It’s Becky, and she’s carrying a bouquet of pretty pink tulips.

  I put down my phone. “Did Trevor cancel on me?”

  I try not to sound disappointed, but I am. When he asked me to have lunch with him today, I assumed it was because he remembered what today is. If he’s cancelling on me, then it must mean he doesn’t remember at all.

  It’s fine. It’s not like it’s our anniversary or anything.

  Guys don’t always remember things the way women do.

  “Not as far as I know,” Becky says. “These were just delivered for you.”

  Frowning, I take the flowers and wait until Becky has left the office before I check the note. They’ve got to be from Trevor. They’re just like the other pink tulips he got me before.

  I pull out the small slip of paper.

  Our contract is almost over.

  Despite the matter-of-fact wording, I’m washed with a wave of pleasure. He does remember. He knows what today is too.

  One year ago today, I proposed. It’s not our anniversary. That’s four days from now. It’s exactly one year since I made an appointment, went to his office, and asked him to marry me.

  I’m staring down at the tulips—feeling just a little sappy—when there’s another tap on my office door.

  This has to be Trevor.

  “Come in.”

  It’s not Trevor. It’s Becky again, and she’s holding another bouquet of pink tulips.

  “What on earth?” I ask, standing up and walking over to her.

  “I don’t know. These just came too.”

  Shaking my head in surprise, I accept the flowers from her and reach in for the note.

  I’d like to take you out on a date.

  I’m still shaking my head, but I’m smiling at the same time. It’s kind of odd, but Trevor is obviously making a big deal about lunch today.

  He knows what it means to me.

  It must mean a lot to him too.

  I’m admiring my two bouquets of flowers when there’s another tap on the door. Now I’m not sure whether to expect Trevor or Becky with another bouquet of flowers.

  It’s Becky.

  She’s giggling, and I’m having a hard time not giggling too as I take the tulips.

  The note this time says, I’m crazy about you.

  I line up the three notes in order on my desk and feel my heartbeat accelerate.

  I’m waiting. Waiting to see what’s next.

  What’s next is another tap on the door.

  Becky again.

  Another bunch of tulips.

  I want to date only you, and I want you to date only me.

  I line the note up beneath the other three.

  A few minutes later, I add another note, pulled from yet another bunch of tulips.

  A year ago, you asked me to marry you.

  I look at the four notes and see exactly what Trevor is doing. I’m so excited now I’m hugging myself, and I can’t wait a few minutes for another bunch of tulips to arrive.

  I run to my office door and swing it open.

  Trevor is standing right outside, wearing a pin-striped suit and giving me a slightly sheepish smile. He’s holding another bunch of tulips.

  He says, “It’s my turn now.”

  I raise a hand to cover my mouth, as if the throbbing of excitement in my veins might somehow spill out.

  Trevor takes a few steps closer to me so he’s standing just a foot away. “I want you to have all of it—all the beginnings we missed. I want you to have everything.”

  He hands me the last bouquet of pink tulips.

  I take them in my hands. Pull out the little note with trembling fingers. Tilt my head down to read.

  Can I be your husband for the rest of our lives?

 
; I don’t cry.

  I really don’t.

  I do make a choked sound and feel my eyes burning, swelling with emotion.

  Trevor reaches over for my left hand and pulls off the rings.

  Then he holds my ring finger gently. “Can I?”

  I can’t speak. My throat is too tight. I nod at him like an idiot.

  He chuckles softly and lifts a hand to swipe away a little tear that’s somehow managed to slip out of one of my eyes. “Got you,” he says with a familiar smugness warmed by something soft and fond.

  “You do have me,” I manage to say.

  “Forever?” He’s putting the rings back on my finger.

  “Forever.”

  Then, because it’s only fair, I grab his left hand, take off his wedding ring, and put it back on his finger too.

  He laughs and pulls me into a hug. “Good. If you’d have said no, I’d have been the one bursting into tears.”

  I pull away with a gasp. “I didn’t burst into tears!”

  He’s still laughing. “If you say so.”

  “One tear. One. That’s not tears!”

  “If you say so.”

  “I thought you might at least have been able to get through your grand romantic gesture without being smug and obnoxious.”

  “No chance of that. Does it make you want to change your mind about forever?” It’s not a serious question. There’s nothing but love and laughter and trust in his eyes.

  I know they’re in mine too. “No. Nothing is going to change my mind, not even your smugness. I want you to be my husband forever.”

  AUTHOR’S NOTE: If you enjoyed this book, the next book in the series will be Practice Husband about Sam and Hunter. It comes out on August 21st. My next release will be Living with Her Ex-Boyfriend, the second book The Loft series, which will come out on July 10th. You can find an excerpt on the following pages.

  If you’d like to receive updates on sales and new releases and chapters of the serial novels I write, be sure to sign up for my newsletter list here.

  Excerpt from Living with Her Ex-Boyfriend

  STEVE HAD TO SUFFER through a torturous workout session with Lucas that afternoon, so he was exhausted and in a bad mood on the way back to the apartment.