My Sweet Puppy Is Him at Eighteen

Summary

The day my husband brought his assistant to her OB-GYN appointment, his eighteen-year-old self had me pinned against the wall, kissing me senseless.

“How are you still so sweet, so damn kissable at thirty, baby? I love you so much.”

He pulled back for a breath, his eyes sparkling. “Speaking of which, where’s the thirty-year-old me? Why isn’t he here to pick you up from work?”

I sighed, gently pushing him away just as my thirty-year-old husband, Jackson, fixed his cold, hard gaze on me from across the hall.