I groan to myself and drop my arse to the chair opposite her desk, and Harry does the same, but where I’m irritated and pouting, he is grinning madly. It penetrates my foul mood a little and I find my lips twitching at the corners as a result.
‘Hello, Harry,’ she says. Her voice is like honey, all smooth and calming. I can’t see her, I can just hear her voice, but when her swivel chair starts to turn and she comes into view, her sheer beauty renders me stupid for a few moments. And damn if my cock starts dancing in my trousers.
‘Hi, Mummy,’ Harry sings, his eyes bright and happy now he has his mother to fuss over him. ‘We’ve come to take you home. Have you had a good day?’
She breaks out in the most stunning smile, her navy eyes that match my boy’s sparkling like diamonds. ‘I’ve had a wonderful day, made all the better now you’re here.’ She flicks those delicious eyes in my direction. Her cheeks are flushed. I want to pounce and worship her right now. Her wide smile turns coy and she crosses one leg over the other. ‘Good evening, Mr Hart.’
I straighten my lips and shift in my chair, trying to conjure up reasonable thoughts in a vain attempt to remain composed in front of my boy. ‘Good evening, Mrs Hart.’
Every blessed shard of light that’s engulfed our lives since we met collides across the desk and detonates. It makes my back straighten and my heart race. This woman, pure, raw, and innocently perfect, has given me more pleasure than I ever thought possible. Not just through intimacy, but also from the sheer joy of being the object of her affection. I’m the centre of her world. And she is the absolute core of mine.
I watch Harry jump down from the chair and wander over to the bookshelves. ‘How was your day?’ I ask.
‘Tiring. And I need to study some more when we’re home.’
It takes everything out of me to refrain from rolling my eyes, knowing I’ll be attacked by her sass if I expose my exasperation. This job is only part time, but she doesn’t need to work here. She insists it’s good for her studies – gives her a sense of what to expect when she qualifies as a therapist, but all I see is her burning herself out. I can’t deny her, though. She wants to help people.
‘Will you have an office like this?’ I cast my eyes around the partner’s office. We hijack it every Wednesday at six.
‘Might do.’
I return my eyes to hers, grinning wickedly. ‘Can I still call you my therapist when you really are one?’
‘No, that would be a massive conflict of interest.’
I scowl. ‘But you help me de-stress.’
‘Hardly on a professional level!’ She laughs, then lowers her voice, leaning over the desk. ‘Or are you suggesting I should allow all of my patients to worship me?’
My shock is clear. ‘No one else gets to taste you,’ I virtually growl, the thought sending me to a maddening place I have avoided for a long time.
But I snap a lid on it when Harry jumps back onto the chair next to me, looking at me in cute curiosity. ‘OK, Daddy?’
I ruffle his hair, ignoring Olivia giggling across the desk. ‘Perfect, mate.’
‘Are you ready to go home, Mummy?’ he asks.
‘Not just yet.’ She reaches for the remote control and I immediately fear the worst. ‘Shall we?’ she asks on a wry smile.
I can feel my boy’s eyes on my profile as I stare at my love, so I slowly turn to him, finding that familiar exasperated look plaguing his gorgeous face. ‘I don’t think we have a choice,’ I remind him, knowing he already knows this.
‘She’s mad,’ he breathes tiredly.
‘I concur.’ I can do no more than agree, because he’s right, and take his hand when he holds it out to me. ‘Are you ready?’
He nods and we both stand together, just as Olivia presses a button that brings the room to life. We remain motionless, despite the instant blast of Pharrell Williams’s “Happy”, and watch as the woman in our life jumps up, all enthusiastically, and kicks her Converse off. ‘Come on, my beautiful boys!’ she sings, rounding her desk and seizing our hands. ‘Let’s de-stress.’
There are too many counters I could make to that, but a quick warning glance from my wife tells me to zip it. My lips purse on a sulky pout. ‘I can think . . .’ I just can’t help myself, but I’m halted when her palm slaps over my face.
She grins and comes closer, keeping her hand exactly where it is. ‘I bought Green and Black’s earlier.’
My eyes widen and my blood heats. ‘Strawberries?’ I mumble against her hand, fighting off trembles of anticipation when she nods her head. I match her grin behind her hand and mentally conjure up my plan for later. It’ll involve worshipping. Lots and lots of worshipping.
‘Can we dance now?’ Harry asks, pulling our attention to him waiting impatiently to the side. ‘Control yourselves,’ he mumbles.
We laugh and each of us claims one of his hands so we form a circle. ‘Let’s do this,’ I say, bracing myself for what I’m about to endure and partake in.
We spend a few moments flicking gazes to each other, smiling, waiting, before Harry makes the first move. My boy breaks out in song, belting out the lyrics as his little body practically goes into spasm. He shakes off our holds and throws his arms into the air, closing his eyes as he starts jumping around the office like a little nut job. I’ve never seen such a wonderful sight.
‘Come on, Daddy!’ he yells, jigging his way across to the sofa and jumping onto the cushions. The slight discomfort his carelessness brings isn’t something I can help, though I’m getting better, for sure. Plus, we always tidy before we leave.