by Sarah Curtis
Text copyright ©2017 by the Author.
This work was made possible by a special license through the Kindle Worlds publishing program and has not necessarily been reviewed by Rochelle Paige Popovic and Elle Christensen. All characters, scenes, events, plots and related elements appearing in the original Passion, Vows & Babies remain the exclusive copyrighted and/or trademarked property of Rochelle Paige Popovic and Elle Christensen, or their affiliates or licensors.
For more information on Kindle Worlds: http://www.amazon.com/kindleworlds
SEVEN YEAR ITCH
Passion Vows and Babies
Sarah Curtis
CONTENTS
Note From Fiona Davenport
Dedications
Books By Sarah Curtis
Where To Find Me
Seven Year Itch
Author’s Note
Note From Fiona Davenport
Dear Readers,
Welcome to the Passion, Vows & Babies Kindle World! In this combination of my Passion & Vows and Yeah, Baby series, we’ll bring you new books by some truly amazing authors. From sexy stories of married couples fighting against outside forces to keep their happily ever after, to unexpected pregnancies that lead to forever afters… the Passion, Vows & Babies world is full of over the top alphas, sassy heroines, insta-love, wedding bells, and growing families. Although the wide cast of characters in both series have managed to find love, there’s plenty more out there who could use Passion, Vows & Babies in their lives—like the couple in this story!
If you’re familiar with the Yeah, Baby and Passion & Vows series, you’ll see a familiar face (or more) in this story. I am so excited this author agreed to bring their storytelling talent to the Passion, Vows & Babies Kindle World! However, please keep in mind that this book is entirely the work of the author, and I didn’t have any part in the process of writing this book.
For more about the world, stop by the Passion, Vows & Babies website:
http://www.fionadavenport.com/kindle-worlds/
Happy reading!
Fiona Davenport
(Elle Christensen & Rochelle Paige)
Dedications
This one's for my daughter. My real-life partner in crime.
And, as always, for my hubby. We've beat every itch.
Books By Sarah Curtis
Alluring Series
Alluring (Book 1) Jack and Alexis
Engaging (Book 2) Gage and Cassie
Pursuing (Book 3) Mase and Jo
Enchanting (An Alluring Novella) Max and Steph
The Gamblers Series
All-In (Book 1) Alec and River
Bad Beat (Book 2) Nico and Olivia
Other books by Sarah Curtis
Freight Trained
Little Black Dress (An Anthology)
Seven Year Itch (A Passion Vows and Babies Novella)
You can find all my books HERE
Where To Find Me
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Sarah Curtis's Alpha Overload
Seven Year Itch
Is The Seven Year Itch About To Scratch Out Your Relationship?
Everyone's heard of the seven-year itch. The dreaded stage in a relationship where couples can grow antsy and lose interest. Experts are unsure the cause of this phenomenon. Is it because a couple has spent so much time together the relationship is no longer exciting? Or is it because humans go through a growth cycle every seven years and change is inevitable?
Whatever the cause, for some couples the struggle is real. We at Ardor Magazine decided to hit up a panel of experts, and they gave a list of things to watch out for—the telltale signs your significant other may be cheating.
He takes or makes phone calls in private.
You notice an increase in his work hours or his time spent away from home.
Returns your calls long after you leave a message.
Comes home smelling of an unfamiliar fragrance.
Behavior that doesn't add up.
Your fears and suspicions.
But remember, these experts also caution not to accuse, but to observe. Accusing a partner who is innocent may do lasting damage to an otherwise healthy relationship. Be patient, observant, and note behavioral patterns. Eventually, the cheater will out themselves.
The smell of roast beef and mustard permeated the air as Ali juggled the large take-out bag while trying to open the heavy, glass door. It was whisked open for her from the other side, and she was greeted by a smiling Lucas St. James.
"Ali! What are you doing here?"
Lucas was tall, even taller than her husband who was an inch over six feet, so she had to crane her neck to meet his eyes as he stepped in close, taking the bag from her.
"I came to surprise Garrett with lunch. I know he's been working long hours lately and thought I could persuade him to take a break."
Lucas's smile dimmed. Not a lot, but enough that she'd noticed. "Garrett's not here."
"He's not?" Ali asked, confused. Garrett hadn't said anything to her this morning about leaving the office.
Lucas and her husband had been friends for many years, growing up in the same neighborhood, and Ali had met them both when they'd all attended university together. When Lucas had needed the CEO position in his company filled, Garrett had been the first person he'd called.
They moved farther into the lobby, out of the traffic of people leaving for lunch. "No, um..." He ran a hand through his thick, dark-brown hair. "He had a meeting out of the office. I'm not sure when he'll be back." He was having trouble meeting her eyes, and Ali could tell the conversation was making him uncomfortable.
And that made Ali more than uncomfortable because Garrett's unmentioned absence from the office was just another log added to a fire that was starting to burn out of control.
The last couple of weeks, Garrett had seemed distant, working late nights, taking calls out of the room, and his phone had been beeping like crazy with incoming texts. Ali knew his new job was demanding, and she probably wouldn't have thought much of it had it not been for the damn article she'd read in Ardor magazine. It had drawn her attention to every one of Garrett's suspicious behaviors that pointed to the possibility he was having an affair.
Adding to her mistrust, the article had been entitled, "The Seven Year Itch" and she and Garrett had been married exactly seven years. Coincidence? Maybe, or maybe not, but once the seed had been planted, it had taken root.
Suspicion was an evil thing, festering in the brain, and corrupting like a virus that had no cure.
In all the time they'd been together, Garrett had never given her reason to doubt his devotion to her, until recently.
And now she was left wondering.
"Well, um, I'll just go then." She waved at the bag. "I'm sure you can find someone who will eat that. It's sandwiches from the deli across the street. Roast beef and turkey. Oh, and those great pickles they've got over there."
She knew she was rambling, backing up as she talked, trying to make her escape. She turned on her heel and fled before Lucas could see the glimmer of tears in her eyes.
≈≈≈≈
Ali was in the kitchen, making dinner when shouts of, "Daddy," from the living room alerted her to Garrett's arrival home. Her shoulders stiffened, and she slammed the oven. Having time to stew, her initial upset had morphed into anger.
&nb
sp; She was pissed.
He'd never called her back.
After fleeing Garrett's office, she'd tried to call him, but it had gone straight to voicemail, adding another check mark in the "fishy" column of her mental list. She hadn't bothered leaving a message—what could she say? Hi, honey, I was at your office and you weren't there. Where the heck are you? He would've seen she'd tried to call, and the thought he hadn't bothered to ring her back cut deep.
She felt his presence before she saw him. After all these years, she was aware when he walked into a room, whether she could see him or not. Her spine—following suit with her shoulders—became rigid and her movements jerky. She smashed the lid down on the pot of mashed potatoes she'd been stirring then aggressively flicked the knob on the stove to turn off the flame.
Two strong arms wrapped around her waist, and his face nuzzled her neck, his lips nipping at the sensitive spot where her neck met her shoulder. She shuddered and tried to step out of his hold, but she was pinned against the stove.
"How was your day?" he mumbled against her skin.
His hands came up to cup her breasts, and that's where she drew the line. Trapped or not, she was breaking free. She was so not in the mood.
In a complicated move, she ducked, sidestepped, and twisted until she was free from his grip. She marched to the refrigerator, throwing it open.
"That good, huh?" he asked, voice laced with laughter.
She threw him a look over her shoulder. He stood, butt leaning against the counter. He'd removed his suit jacket, rolled up the sleeves of his white dress shirt, and had loosened his tie.
Reaching for the butter, she said, "My day was fine. How was yours?" She grabbed a clean spoon, using her hip to slam the drawer shut with more force than necessary.
"I have a feeling your definition of fine might be a tad different from mine."
"If you think it means showing up at your husband's work to surprise him with lunch only to find he's not there and when you tried to call him, his phone went to voicemail, and he never returned your call, and now you're pissed as fuck? Then yeah, it means the same thing." She banged the spoon against the rim of the pot to dislodge the glob of butter before tossing it in the sink and stirring the potatoes with the wooden spoon.
He gave her his signature sexy smirk. "Yeah, I had a feeling our definitions had two different meanings."
She returned his smirk with a dirty look. "Don't try to be cute. It won't work."
"Do I even need to try?"
Ali gave him the look. The one reserved for when she was irritated with either him or the kids. He got the memo because his smirk faded, replaced with a look of remorse.
He moved behind her, his arms coming back around her middle. "I'm sorry. My phone died, and I didn't charge it until I was in the car on the way home."
"And you didn't tell me you would be out of the office all afternoon because..." She hated that her voice sounded hurt and whiny.
Garrett placed his chin on her shoulder and nuzzled his nose behind her ear. She felt herself succumbing, but just a little. "Janet was out sick today, so I had to run out and pick up the Johnson contract. Sam Johnson was in the office and invited me to lunch. I couldn't say no. The lunch turned into an unplanned meeting and before I knew it, hours had passed. The good news is, he signed the contract."
Ali melted against him. She was a sucker for the spot right behind her ear, and her sneaky husband knew that. Trying to stay strong, she said, "I'm still mad at you," but her words didn't carry the same heat as they had a few minutes before.
"Which is why I stopped on the way home and picked you up a present."
That got her attention. "What?" she asked still sounding skeptical.
"Nope. You have to give me a proper kiss first."
"What if your present isn't good enough to make up for what you did today? I'm not kissing you until I see it."
His warm breath tickled her ear as he sighed. "Fine. It's in the front pocket of my pants."
Ali couldn't hold back a snort. "No way, mister. You're not getting a free grope out of it, either."
"Hey, a man's gotta try."
She felt him reach into his pocket and a king-sized Kit Kat bar materialized in front of her. "Pretty good on the bribe scale, but I still don't think it makes up for not calling me back."
"Which is why I also got you this." She felt his other hand fiddle in his pocket, and he produced her favorite flavor of lip gloss.
That he'd gone through the trouble of stopping at the store to buy her favorite things went a long way in soothing her anger.
She twirled in his embrace and wrapped her arms around his neck. "Okay, you're forgiven. But note, you're only just removed from my shit-list and can go back on with any misstep."
"So noted."
His lips found hers, and she pressed herself to him as he deepened the kiss. Events of the past few weeks flew from her mind as he skillfully and determinedly turned her on, making her wish dinner was over and the kids weren't still up.
She moaned when his hand found her ass and squeezed. "No fair," she mumbled against his lips.
He pressed his hard-on into her stomach. "Talk about unfair. You know these tight pants you wear drive me insane."
"Leggings."
"Hmm?" he asked, halfheartedly as his lips found her neck again.
"They're called leggings," she replied just as distracted.
"They should be called lethal."
That made her laugh, and the arrival of Noah and Emma, hungry for dinner, broke them apart. "I'd better get dinner finished."
"Then I expect you to finish me later." Garrett winked before turning. Then scooping a kid under each arm, carried them squealing from the kitchen.
≈≈≈≈
Three hours later, it was Ali who was squealing—into her pillow—as her husband pleasured her with his mouth. His lips, tongue, and teeth went on an exploration, and she discovered the Holy Land.
And then his damn phone dinged with an incoming text.
Garrett didn't seem to notice. He was too engrossed with her breasts. Her nipples to be specific. Licking and sucking. Tugging the hard peaks into his mouth and twirling them with his tongue.
"I want you to come again," he said, sliding his fingers through her folds, finding her clit and circling it with a finger.
She wanted to come again, too. But now her mind was on his damn phone and who could be texting him at almost ten o'clock on a Wednesday night. But Garrett knew her body well—the crease where her leg met her pussy was especially erogenous—and he had her on the brink again in no time.
He slid in, and she sighed as he filled her. Wrapping her legs around his thighs, she pulled him closer. Her hands gripped his shoulders, her short nails biting into his flesh as he pounded into her hard and fast.
"Fuck, I'm gonna come," he said, rotating his hips and hitting the spot that did it for her every time.
"That's okay, so am I," she panted, pushing her lower half up to meet his, chasing the orgasm that was right within reach. "Harder. Just a little harder."
"Fuck, babe, you're killing me. I'm about to explode."
And then she found it. Wave after wave of sensation rippled through her, ending in a whole body shiver.
Garrett collapsed on top of her, catching most of his weight with his arms. His lips found her neck, the underneath part of her chin, then finally her lips, his tongue sliding in effortlessly to mate with hers.
He pulled out of her carefully, kissing the tip of her nose, then rolled them to their sides, spooning her from behind.
"I need to go clean up." But she didn't make a move to get up, content right where she was.
Garrett must've been comfortable, too because he grunted, "Just let me hold you a bit longer."
As she lay in his embrace, enjoying the heat of his arm wrapped around her waist, his hand nestled in her cleavage and the weight of his leg covering hers, his phone beeped again.
Garrett grunted, rolling away.
"Sorry, babe, I should've turned the damn thing off before coming to bed."
Ali rolled with him, trying to discreetly peek at the screen, but all she saw was a flash of light before the screen went dark as he powered it off.
He flopped down on his back, holding an arm out wide. "Come here."
Snuggled against him, her head on his chest, she knew the moment he'd drifted off to sleep from the sound of his even, heavy breaths. Mind racing, it took her a lot longer to find it.
≈≈≈≈
"Mom, I can't find my other sneaker!" Noah yelled from somewhere in the house.
Ali sighed. She was not a morning person, and they were always the worst. Chaotic and disorganized. However well prepared she tried to be the night before, something unexpected always seemed to pop up.
"Did you check under your bed?" she yelled back from the kitchen as she poured milk over the kids' cereal.
"It wasn't there!"
"Where did you take your shoes off at?" She placed the bowls on the table and helped Emma into her booster seat.
"I don't remember!"
Ali sighed under her breath before shouting, "Come eat breakfast, I'll find your shoe!"
Less than a minute later, her son came rolling into the kitchen. Surprisingly, for a six-year-old, he wasn't a morning person, either. And that was the only thing he and Ali had in common. The rest was all his father. Noah's hair was a bit blonder at such a young age, but Ali knew it would darken to the shade of Garrett's as he grew older. They even had the same cowlick in the back, though Noah didn't bother to tame it like his father did.
"Come sit down and eat your cereal." Ali moved to exit the kitchen. "And watch your sister," she threw over her shoulder before making her way to the living room.
A quick scan of the floor—double-checking since Noah's searching skills were nonexistent—didn't reveal a missing shoe. She got down on her hands and knees in front of the sofa. Under it was usually a safe bet. She discovered three crayons, a Barbie's head, and a petrified French fry, but no tennis shoe.