Make It Known

Bonus Chapter #1: Typo

"Typo"

early marriage, before kids • Gavin's POV

***

Oh, hell.

As soon as I see the look on her face, I know I'm in trouble.

"Hey, baby." I toss my keys into the decorative bowl by the door of our apartment, making my way over to where my wife is sitting at the kitchen table, looking as breathtakingly beautiful as always.

She probably just got back from work. She's wearing that light grey dress that hugs her ass just the right way, sits with her slender legs crossed so her skirt rides up high on those smooth thighs.

And she's looking at me with an eyebrow quirked, mischief dancing in her sharp brown eyes. She greets me with a bright smile that makes my heart rate pick up. My dick twitches against the zipper of my slacks. I guess he's happy to see her too.

She slides her elegant fingers slowly across the dark wooden surface and my gaze settles on the glossy pages lying on the table. "I read your article," she begins slowly, watching me as I come to stand in front of her. I lean against the table a foot or so away from her and try to figure out exactly what game she's playing.

I know she's up to something. "And?"

It's the first thing I've published in my own name since the last editorial piece I did a year or so before I left The Press.

Shouldn't really be a big deal. I've published dozens of huge articles. But I find myself extremely curious, maybe even a little anxious, to hear her opinion.

Yeah. She has me wrapped around her little finger and she fucking knows it.

"It was... compelling." A sly smile dances at the corners of that pretty pink mouth and I narrow my eyes at her.

A neatly-trimmed fingertip skims over a couple lines of text inked onto the page. "What?"

She purses her lips, apparently to stifle her laughter.

Oh no.

"Not the reaction I was exactly expecting, Mel."

Damn. I know the article is good. I wouldn't have let CBC publish something with my name on it if it wasn't accurate and meticulous and excellent. Worked on the damn thing for months.

She's messing with my head.

"No, it's exceptional," she assures. Except the wickedness in her expression says otherwise.

"But?"

"But..."

She picks up the copy of my article into her smooth hands, skims her bright gaze across the words before looking up at me. Looking at me like she's gonna fucking eat me for dinner.

"It's just..."

Oh, fuck me.

"...I would've thought that a Pulitzer prize-winning journalist and the youngest ever editor-in-chief of The Press would have a better grasp of basic English."