I smiled, big time. “You are one damn good husband, Zane Traynor.”
“Always knew I would be.” His eyes were locked on mine, and he was so close I could feel his breath on my face. When did we get so close? I became aware of my hand, which I’d planted on his thigh at some point, but I didn’t remove it.
His gaze dropped to my lips and lingered there.
I glanced down and away, because I couldn’t keep looking at his face.
“You have beautiful feet,” I whispered.
I could see them now, sticking out the legs of his frayed jeans, naked, his strong, graceful toes wiggling with latent energy. Like a tiger’s tail twitching just before it pounces.
When I looked back up he was cocking an eyebrow at me. Shit. I just said that out loud?
Right… now I remembered the other reason I made it a practice never to drink too much in Zane’s company.
He licked his lips. “You say one more thing like that, Maggie May, and I’m gonna kiss you. Consider yourself warned.”
“What? About your feet?”
“About my anything.”
Turns out I didn’t have to say a thing. I just kissed him first.
I really couldn’t say what I was thinking when I climbed onto the bed with him; when I snuggled up to him like he was some asexual man-friend with innocent cuddling privileges, instead of a diabolical, sex-hungry man-whore with a permanent hard-on.
I couldn’t say what I was thinking when I kissed him, either. If I was thinking at all.
Apparently I’d had just enough booze and pot and weirdness over the course of the night to allow myself to go there. For once, not to question his motives or worry about what this meant or warn myself I was making the world’s most massive mistake.
I just leaned in and laid one on him.
His lips were soft and gentle in a way I didn’t expect. It kinda took my breath away.
When we’d kissed just before the wedding ceremony, and during, those were hungry, passionate kisses. The first a slow burn, the latter a blazing fire. Maybe they were for show. I couldn’t honestly tell which was the real deal; this kiss or those. Or maybe all of the above. But I fell into it, this kiss. I tilted my head a little when he pushed in deeper, opening for him. He swirled his tongue against mine, tentatively, and when I responded with a little moan I didn’t even know was coming, he took my face in his hands and cranked up the heat.
After that, I had no idea what happened.
I lost track of myself in the ensuing inferno.
We were horizontal on the bed, making out like animals, and Zane’s shirt was gone. Maybe it had incinerated. Somehow I was underneath him, and his hands were working their way up under my dress… and I didn’t want to be anywhere else.
“Fuck… Maggie… I’ve wanted you… wanted this… for so long…”
He devoured me with his kisses, feasting on my mouth, my face, groaning when I kissed him back… and as I gasped for air in between—because I’d pretty much forgotten how to breathe—an awful, horrible thought invaded my brain.
What if any of this passion was about the booze?
I broke away, panting, lightheaded and breathless.
Sure, I’d brushed my teeth. Like that could magically undrink the booze I’d drank? The truth was, I was a lot less sober than I’d let on. I was pretty sure Zane knew that.
But that meant he was breaking his rule for me. And his rule was a big one. As in, his life pretty much depended on it.
Booze and women together… that’s a temptation I just can’t hack.
Shit.
Just… shit.
All the air squeezed from my lungs and my heart kicked in a really weird way.
I could not be the reason Zane destroyed his life.
Wait.
My heart?
When the hell did my heart get in on this?
Fuck me. My heart was not allowed to do weird kicky things for Zane.
It was Zane.
He was looking at me, his blue eyes hazy, his face a little flushed, his skin kinda dewy as his tongue swiped the corner of his mouth. I tasted his salt as I bit my lip.
When did it get so bloody hot in here?
“What’s wrong?”
“I think you were right,” I whispered, my hand on his chest as I pushed him away.
He didn’t let go.
“I’m right about a lot of things, babe. Be more specific.”
He slid his hand around my neck and dug his fingers into my hair, pulling me closer, and I said, “Maybe we shouldn’t do this.”
He stopped dead and stared at me. “You serious?”
I nodded. I was dead serious.
“Fuck me.”
He released me and rolled away, sitting on the edge of the bed, facing away from me. Then he got up, fast, and put his shirt back on.
Shit. Was he pissed?
Where did he get off being pissed?
I scrambled off my side of the bed. “You weren’t going to before, so why should I?”
He turned and stood glaring at me. I was actually glad the bed was between us, because he was starting to look stabby again. “Because you want to.”
“You want to,” I shot back.
He clawed his hand through his blond hair, clearing it from his face. “For fuck’s sake, woman, I’ve wanted to for six fucking years, and now you marry me and you still say no?”
“You said no.”
“I’m saying yes,” he said, with a not-so-subtle adjustment of his dick in his jeans.
“Because you married me.”
“What the fuck does that mean?”
“It means this was all your idea!”
He shook his head. Then he rounded the bed so he could glare at me up close and I backed up until I hit wall.
“And you said yes to it,” he said slowly, and really fucking quietly. “Right after I told you you weren’t gonna pull this shit, remember?”
“I said yes
