Husband Sit (Husband #1) by Louise Cusack Read Free Book Online

as if I was going to sigh. But somehow while I was concentrating on
the niceness of being tucked in, I missed the moment of decision he must have
had, because the next thing I felt were his lips on mine. And they were every
bit as dreamy and soft as I’d imagined they’d be. Before I could stop myself, I
let out that held breath and slipped my tongue out to brush against his.
    “ Jesus ,”
he whispered, but I didn’t want the kissing to stop so I grabbed his shoulders
and pulled, which he could have resisted. He was bigger than me, but he let
himself be dragged down onto the bed and then my fingers were in his
dreadlocks, cupping his head, holding it still so I could keep on kissing him
gently and wetly and oh so sweetly.
    He
groaned after that, and I couldn’t feel his body through the quilt but I
figured I was turning him on. “This is wrong,” he whispered, but I knew he
wanted to, and that purely feminine part of me that he’d dented with I’m not
going to sleep with you , felt smugly satisfied.
    “You’re
not fucking me, you’re just kissing me,” I whispered back. “I’ve had pain
today. It’s my turn for pleasure,” and I kissed him some more, long dreamy
kisses that lulled me into forgetting my sunburned back and my aching wrist,
kisses that relaxed my body so completely that they got softer and softer, and
then without realizing what was happening, I drifted into a deep and blissful
slumber.
    The
next morning my head was full of hammers and my tongue felt like the bottom of
a cold porridge bowl. But there was no one lying beside me and my pink pajamas
hadn’t moved in the night so I was reasonably sure Finn hadn’t taken advantage
of my convenient drunkenness.
    “Blah,”
I said and dragged myself out, looking to rinse and spit. After a bumpy trip
down the hallway, I found the toilet again and relieved myself, wondering why
on earth anyone needed a toilet room to be ten feet long. It was ridiculous,
and I scowled at the length of shiny tiled floor while I peed, thinking it was
just as well I wasn’t cleaning this place. Then I got myself organized and
staggered from the toilet into the bathroom to wash my hands. Immediately that
was done I grabbed my toothbrush out of my toiletries bag and loaded it up with
way too much toothpaste before shoving it in my mouth and poking around in an
uncoordinated effort to get rid of the porridge sensation.
    Bad
idea. That made me gag, and it was only my complete aversion to vomiting that
stopped half a pizza being regurgitated. Instead, a mouthful of foamy
toothpaste exited on a “Yah,” to land on my foot. I stood looking at it,
thinking I should just go back to bed.
    “You
okay?”
    I
looked up at the doorway and saw Finn in a red tee-shirt and jeans, trying not
to smile at my rabid dog impersonation. I spat into the sink and wiped the
worst of the froth off my face onto a hand towel which I then used to clean my
foot. When I’d straightened again, I shot him my best imperious glance and
said, “How are you so perky?” And not only perky, but totally scrumptious from
the top of those butterscotch dreads to the bare toes poking out of his jeans,
not to mention every lickable inch in between. It hurt my head to look at him.
    “Two
aspirin and a glass of milk before bed. Works every time.”
    I
pulled a face but made a mental note to try it sometime. Then I remembered he
should be looking guilty, not perky. “Aha!” I said and pointed a wobbly finger
at him. “You kissed me last night, Mr. I’ll Be Faithful To My Wife.”
    “True,”
he said with a very sexy smirk, “But kissing isn’t fucking,” throwing my own
line back at me.
    It
was far too early to come up with a clever response so I harrumphed my
way past him and tottered off to the kitchen where I rinsed and spat with cold
water from the fridge until my mouth felt frozen. “I’m going to die,” I
announced, and poured another glass which I planned to try sipping.
    “You
might have