Wife Me Bad Boy Read Online Free

dress.
    “So,” she said breathlessly when we were both at the top, her delicious breasts rising and falling with her breath, “where’s this drink you promised me?”
    It was a perfect night. The air was cool and still. Through the window we could see a million bright stars keeping watch over the valley. Faintly, we could hear the guests on the porch celebrating the love of a man and woman who’d just promised themselves to each other for all eternity. If this wasn’t the night for us to take this secret pleasure, this sweet ecstasy that we’d waited our entire lives for, then I don’t know what it was.
    God would forgive us. Her father would understand. It would be just one night. One blissful night.
    I pointed to the heavy beam above her head. “There’s a hip flask right above you.”
    She reached up and grabbed it, but when she pulled it down, I saw that she hadn’t grabbed the flask at all. She’d grabbed something else entirely. Something I’d long forgotten was there.

Chapter 5
    Lacey
    “W HAT’S THIS?” I SAID, pulling down an old envelope, it’s paper worn with age.
    Grant was surprised when he saw it.
    “Oh, shit,” he said. “Here, give that to me.”
    He’d never looked handsomer than he did at that moment. He was wearing an impeccable tuxedo, its crisp lines contrasting with his muscular, tattooed frame. He carried an old fashioned lamp in one hand, and with the other he held the ladder. His hair was combed, a rare sight for Grant, but it still refused to be tamed. His curls fell down around his face like ivy.
    I was about to hand him the envelope when something about his urgency stopped me. What was so important about it?
    “Not so fast,” I said.
    “Lacey, come on. It’s private.”
    I looked at him. “Can I take a peek?” I said, mischievously.
    He sighed. Then he shrugged.
    “Fine,” he said, “but pass me the flask first.”
    I reached back up to the beam and this time found the metal bottle he’d intended me to find the first time. I unscrewed the lid and took a swig of the aged whiskey before passing it to him.
    The envelope contained photographs and a letter. I tipped it and the small bundle of old photographs slid into my hand.
    “What are these?” I said.
    “We’re adults now,” he said. “I suppose you can see for yourself.”
    I looked at them and gasped. They were pictures of me. Not naughty, I wasn’t naked or anything, just portraits that had been hanging in the hall of the mansion until we took them down for a remodel years ago. There was one of me at my high school graduation. I remembered the day clearly. Me in my hat and gown holding my diploma. Grant had taken the picture. That was before the other brothers had come to live with us. Another was of me on Mustang, the wild horse Grant had broken and given to me for my nineteenth birthday. My hair was long and wavy, flowing down over my shoulders in billowing curls. It was one of my favorite shots. Another was of me in my prom dress, taken on our wraparound staircase before my date arrived. I remembered thinking it was the most beautiful I’d ever looked in my life up to that point.
    “How long have you had these?” I said.
    He took a swig of the whiskey before answering. “A long time.”
    “What were you doing with them?”
    He was embarrassed. He didn’t answer.
    “Grant,” I said insistently.
    He came toward me and handed me the hip flask. Then he took the envelope and photos from my hand and put them back up on the beam. I hadn’t even read the letter but now I wasn’t sure I wanted to. What would it say?
    “I didn’t mean for you to see those,” he said. “I hope they didn’t upset you.”
    “Why do you have them?”
    “That’s not important,” he said, sitting on a bale of hay.
    “Of course it’s important.”
    “Why?” he said. “Why is it important?”
    “It’s important because I want to know. We’ve lived together since I was seventeen. What are you doing with photos of