Page 41 of The Wrong Husband

Emilia looked around the restaurant. "We should've eaten at Archer Galleries."

"You can't keep hiding."

"Sure, I can. Watch me. I have a shit ton of experience doing it."

"Now, about the ring—"

"Can we just wear the damn wedding bands? I can't do gemstones and shit. They're a huge bother when I have to wash paint off my hands."

I thought about it for a long moment. I was still wearing the rose gold wedding band even though she'd left hers with Duncan. I wanted her to wear my ring. I had no idea why, but I wanted to make sure that the world knew she was mine. Mine for six months or so, right?

"I'll figure something out," I assured her.

She smiled and my heart stuttered. Emilia smiled plenty—she was genuinely a happy person; but when she looked at me with her eyes bright it made me feel good, worthy. Which was bullshit! Women had looked at me like that all my adult life, and I'd never questioned my worth. But this little mouse of a woman, with a paintbrush holding her hair together, was making me self-conscious.

"Next topic," I began and saw her roll her eyes, "Stop that or we will have to discuss safe words."

Her eyes piqued with interest. "Like…for…?"

I was joking but I could see she was curious. "BDSM isn't my kink," I assured her.

"Have you tried it?" Her voice was hushed but full of curiosity.

I'd pretty much tried everything. I knew what I liked and what I didn’t. A week ago, I would've said virgins weren't my thing and look how wrong I was.

"You don’t have to tell me about your sex life." She waved a hand. "Go on, you had something on your mind."

Yeah, I do. You spread over this table so I can eat your pussy and watch you come.

She was a squirter and it had been fucking erotic to watch her fall apart.

"I'm going to send movers to your place—"

"No," she whined.

"You have security there?"

"No," she mumbled, making a face.

"Okay, so you have to move in with me."

"Fine, but I will move my own stuff."

I relented.

"What about my studio?"

"I'm setting that up for you at Archer Galleries."

Her eyes went wide. "Really?"

The studios in the gallery were a dream come true. They had the right amount of natural light and at night and when it was dark, the lighting was perfect to not throw a glare on the canvas. Some of the artists we hired to restore paintings and make legal copies used the space. It was also an exclusive club of artists and space in the studio was coveted.

"You will share with others," I warned her.

"Wow…yeah." Her eyes were wide with excitement. "Really?"

I smiled. Didn’t she realize as an Archer she had access to things she couldn't have dreamed of before?