“Oh, is that what I was doing?”
“As you can see, I’m quite adept at power tools.”
She laughed and hooked her legs around his hips.
When his pocket buzzed again, she frowned. “Okay, seriously? Are you getting a phone call or something?”
“Ignore it.” He went back to defrocking her boobs.
“Simon.”
“What? I’m busy.”
“No, you’re distracting me. There’s a difference.”
“Is it working?”
He did that thing with his tongue and she almost let it go. Seriously, the tongue thing was magic. But he’d been too preoccupied since they’d gotten back from Europe. The whole time they were there, to be honest—good God. “Jesus.”
“I know what you need.” His voice was sandpaper over velvet, and he knew it was her kryptonite.
He reached around and peeled down her yoga pants. His zipper and belt buckle were fumbled open between them—until his phone went off one more time. She punched him in the shoulder. “What the hell?”
He flopped onto his back and dug out his phone, then turned it off.
She rolled onto her side. “Turning it off will not stop this conversation.”
He clenched the phone, tapping it against his forehead. “Can we not?”
She sat up. “No. Now we have to.”
“It’s nothing.”
She folded her arms. “We don’t do secrets, Simon.”
“It’s not a secret—I just don’t want to talk about it.”
She wasn’t the wife who dug into every last corner of his life. They got on so well because they respected each other’s privacy in certain areas. She didn’t tell him which modeling jobs to take or not to take. She certainly didn’t demand anything of him beyond being present in her life. Between the band and their marriage, they’d been doing just fine. Sure, the baby thing was throwing them both for a loop…but there was one other thing that was like a forty-foot oak in the middle of their lives.
And it wasn’t the baby, but it damn well was familial.
He sighed and turned on his phone then handed it to her.
“I don’t need to look at your phone.”
“Yeah, you do. Just…take it. You won’t be able to miss it.”
She curled her knees under her and flicked through his notifications. Well, that would be what was buzzing against her. “You have a Google alert on your brother?”
“Don’t call him that.”
She gave him a baleful stare. “Really?”
He rolled onto his side and propped his head up with his hand. “I’m just trying to figure out what his angle is.”
She flicked through the Instagram notifications, the news articles, and email notifications. “No, this is obsessive. Is this what you’re always doing on your phone? Checking these links?” And from the color of the links, he’d already read up on Ian’s new modeling gig. “So, I guess you know about him working with Roman?”
“Yeah, rat prick.”