“Did you have an accident?” George nodded to my pants.

I looked away from where Sara had disappeared down the hall. “A waiter did, just before Sara had one, just before the valet introduced my car to a concrete pillar.”

“So dinner was awesome, then?”

“A brilliant night, really.” Only when I looked up at him again did I register what he was wearing. “Is that my shirt?”

George ran his hands to his hips. “It’s more of a dress on me.” He pulled the extra material into his fists. “I almost used one of Sara’s scarves as a belt.”

“So . . . a touch of vomit then?”

He nodded, releasing the shirt. “Exorcist baby.”

“Sorry about that,” I mumbled, suddenly hit with a debilitating wave of exhaustion. “I swear there are times she throws up more than I think she’s eaten.”

“Not a thing, I swear. It was so much better than that time my date threw up on me, because at least Anna cuddles afterward.”

“Thanks, mate. Taking care of the baby tonight was bloody generous of you.”

George patted my shoulder. “I’ll leave you to it. Tell Sara I’ll see her next week?”

“Will do.”

After I closed the door behind him, I threw my trousers in the washing machine and went down the hall to the nursery, sitting in my usual spot on the soft carpet near the rocking chair. “How’s my girl?”

Sara smiled down at Anna. “She’s fine.”

I licked my lips, studying her face. She’d relaxed almost as soon as she had our baby in her arms. “I meant my wife.”

Her enormous brown eyes met mine and narrowed as she laughed. “I’m fine, too.”

She looked back down at the baby and sang quietly, stroking Anna’s cheek with her thumb. I watched Anna’s small hand reach up blindly, finding and squeezing Sara’s index finger. Reaching forward, I curled my hand around my wife’s ankle and closed my eyes.

I couldn’t hear anything but Sara’s quiet humming and our daughter’s little baby noises. Our world was infinitely better and we had to come to terms with the fact that, at least for the time being, it was so much smaller.

A hand on my shoulder startled me awake. The floor of the nursery, I’d fallen asleep on the floor of the nursery . . .

Looking up, I was greeted by the sight of Sara in a tiny lace bra that pushed her tits up and together until they nearly spilled from the cups. My gaze traveled south and snagged on her minuscule matching thong.

“New pajamas?” I asked, pushing up onto an elbow.

“A gift from Chloe.”

“For me or you?”

“Both.” She curled her finger to me as she backed out of the room, and I stood, trailing after her until she stopped halfway to the bedroom on a slim, soft hallway rug.

“Here?” I asked, stepping close and bending to kiss her neck. She’d put the smallest touch of perfume on—the familiar light scent that seemed half fruit, half floral, and which she knew made me wild. Seeing her like this, in lingerie, her hair grown long and thick, reaching halfway down her back and brushed smooth, reminded me that it had been forever since we’d put in this sort of effort. It used to be either frantic fucking or a luxurious game.

Now we’d only known exhausted or frantic, and I couldn’t shake the feeling that I should take her to our room, be slow and gentle with her.

“Yeah, here,” she whispered, standing on her toes to scrape her teeth over my jaw. “Remember that time we ate dinner in front of the TV, and I surprised you when the movie I put in was a video of us?” She dragged her teeth along my earlobe. “You got so turned on you fucked me against this wall. Bent at the waist, hands on the plaster and legs spread? Remember?”

I definitely remembered. We’d made love in the hall before—the frantic kind of pre-baby sex when we’d been unable to wait until we could reach the bed. Those times were fast and messy, a flurry of wild thrusts until we both collapsed sweaty and half dressed on the floor. On that particular occasion I’d just watched a video of me spanking her, and was so fucking turned on we re-created it, right here.

But tonight, when Annabel was fast asleep, why were we—

“I like this rug,” she explained, sliding down my body to her knees and my brain stuttered when she looked up at me with wicked eyes. “It’s soft and thick under my knees.” She guided my boxers down past my hips and freed my cock, watching it grow long as her fist curled around the base. She drew a slow circle with her tongue around the tip. “I also like the way you taste,” she continued, smiling knowingly up at me. “Is that weird?”