Steele (Arizona Vengeance #9) - Sawyer Bennett Page 0,59
and she’s a bit standoffish and just a little too professional.”
I frown. “What does Jett see in her?”
“Well, she’s hot as hell,” Jim admits reluctantly. “I mean, nowhere near as beautiful as you, but she definitely had some of the guys’ tongues lolling.”
Jim goes on to explain that the marketing management wants each of the players to become more personally involved in the Instagram community, making themselves more “digitally” available to their fans.
“Oh, God.” I laugh in sympathy. “You suck at social media.”
“I know,” he laments, then gives me a wink. “But our daughter doesn’t. I had to meet with Ms. Holland last week so she could explain what the team is looking for and she even had a folder of tips and strategies, including guidelines we have to follow. Things that are acceptable and things that aren’t.”
“Like what?’ I ask curiously.
“Well, for example, posts about our cute foster puppy are completely acceptable.” Jim’s smile turns from amiable to wolfish. He brings a hand to my hip, then glides it up the curve of my body. “But photos of my wife naked in bed… not acceptable.”
I snort-laugh because it’s a running joke with Jim and me. We’ve used the camera on our phones many times in bed, taking sexy photos of each other. Well, some are quite explicit and dirty. He took a great one of me taking his entire cock into my mouth.
I took one of his head between my legs, then turned it to video, letting it roll the entire time, even catching that moment where my orgasm caused me to buck against him hard. He lifted his head, lips wet, and grinned at the camera and it was the hottest and sweetest thing ever.
Of course, we look at them after, provide sometimes humorous commentary and delete them right away. We’re not stupid, after all.
There were times when Jim and I were separated that I’d use my vibrator for release. In those times, I’d conjure up memories of all the hundreds and hundreds of ways we’d pleasured each other over the years, and I had wished sometimes I had some of those photos to look at. To remind me of how tight our bonds of intimacy ran.
In truth, it’s been the underlying foundation of why it’s been easy to let Jim back into my life. Because in this bed, when he’s inside of me and I’m feeling completely possessed and cherished, it’s exactly the type of way I need to be needed by him. The fact he was able to give me that same feeling on higher levels is why I think it’s time to make my decision on whether to give this marriage another real shot.
CHAPTER 16
Ella
Nervously, I smooth down the white linen dress I’d chosen to wear to brunch today. I paired it with a super lightweight pale blue cardigan and a matching pair of blue heels.
The restaurant is in Scottsdale and I’d looked it up before I went to sleep last night so I could see just how fancy it was. I probably could have gotten away with jeans and a nice top, but I felt like dressing up. The downside to working from home is that your wardrobe starts consisting of t-shirts and yoga pants, and while I know I have no reason to be nervous, I don’t want to make a bad impression on these women who are inviting me into their circle.
When I arrive, I’m led to a back room in the restaurant where a large round table is set. The women are all milling around, talking. I see that a few hold coffee mugs in their hand while others have mimosas. A waiter appears and asks me my preference, and I choose the fortification of alcohol.
“Ella,” I hear from my right and turn to find Brooke beaming.
She moves my way, and carefully holding her mimosa out from us, she gives me a one-handed hug. “I’m so glad you came.”
“Me too,” I reply in an automatic assurance I was looking forward to this. Truthfully, I was scared. Many of these women are just acquaintances, and I don’t know them all that well.
Brooke takes it upon herself to walk me around the room—not to make introductions, but more to let each woman offer her welcome. I relax as the moments tick by, each woman warmly hugging me and extending enthusiasm that I’m joining them.
I know most of their stories from Jim. Tales he’d share with me sometimes on late-night phone calls when he