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I make my way across the room, stopping a few times for a brief chitchat with a guest and finally confront my new partner. "You gonna hide all night?"
She looks up at me with her huge lavender eyes. Yeah, lavender. Not blue, not green, but a weird shade of light bluish grayish purple. They look like jelly beans in her head.
"I'm not hiding… I'm just talking to my friend Kat."
Her friend jumps in between us. "I love your music. I've been to, like, tons of your concerts."
"Thanks, babe."
"I've only been to one," Asia announces. "It was two years ago, though."
"She doesn't like crowds," her friend says apologetically.
"That'll hafta change," I say, eyeing Asia, who now appears to be trying to will herself to disappear. I grab her arm. "C'mon, jelly bean, let's do a slow dance." I gently tug her onto the dance floor so I can check her out up close without her friend fangirling all over me.
"Jelly bean?" she repeats as I pull her against me.
"Yeah. Your eyes are the color of candy. Are those real?" I put my arm around her tiny waist, noticing her head barely reaches my shoulder.
She giggles at me. Fucking giggles. "Yeah, of course they are."
"They look fake. I thought maybe you had colored contacts in."
She rests her hand on my shoulder awkwardly and my gaze drops to her chest, following the pearl necklace dangling there. Everything about her is so…small. "Nope…they're real."
She does have some beautiful eyes, so I'll give her a point for that.
"How old are you?" I ask, thinking she looks to be about nineteen or twenty, the same age as my little sister.
"I'm twenty-five, and you?"
"Twenty-six."
"I was w—"
We're interrupted by the photographer. "The sun is setting, guys. I'd like to get you outside by that little lake and get some pictures with the sunset behind you."
I think we've already had a few thousand pictures taken, but we trudge outside anyway to let this dude do his job. Just like the poses we did earlier, Asia is stiff, not relaxing against me and shying away from all the photographer's suggested photos of us kissing or in any way getting too close. Yeah, it's awkward to pose for a wedding photo with a total stranger, but she's not even trying. She could at least fake it so these pictures don't end up looking like we hate each other.
Fed up, I tickle her and she grabs at my hands, giggling, and I sneak a kiss on her lips just as the photographer snaps the photo. "Perfect!" he yells. "Best picture of the night."
"It's about time," I mutter under my breath.
"That wasn't fair," she says, finally smiling. "You totally caught me off guard."
"Get used to it, babe." I grin at her and grab her hand. "Let's go. I think we're at the part where we get to shove cake in each other's faces."
Chapter 8
Asia
Our suite at the hotel is absolutely beautiful and has obviously been prepared for us with the hope of romance and sexy times occurring. A bottle of champagne chilling in ice is positioned alongside a spread of chocolate truffles and fresh fruit, and a trail of red rose petals leads across the sitting room into the adjoining bedroom. There a king-size bed awaits, with a hot tub in the corner surrounded by scattered candles waiting to be lit.
Anxiety creeps over me like a dark cloud. I cannot sleep with him. Not tonight. My nerves are way too rattled, my heart way too heavy, my mind too freaked out with the reality of the situation I just committed myself to.
I try not to stare as he rolls his shirtsleeves up and unbuttons the front of his shirt, exposing his chest and abs—completely covered in tattoos, just like his arms. And although he's definitely good-looking in his own way, he's just not my type at all. I've never been attracted to men with long hair or body art. I have one very tiny tattoo myself, but it's only about an inch big and has special meaning for me. As far as men go, I've always been drawn to men with short hair, thin, athletic bodies, and stable careers. I guess I've always wanted the opposite of my father, who drank, partied, broke the law, and worked in construction. He always seemed dirty to me, even when he was clean. My father's rough exterior was a mirror of his interior. He was bad news, through and through. Even though my new husband isn't a criminal, he's way too raw and wild-looking for my comfort zone.
Again, I wonder if the team made a mistake and put me with the wrong guy by accident. That's the only explanation that makes any sense to me, because he's the complete opposite of what I described in all the forms they made us fill out.
Slowly sitting on the lone chair across the room from him, I reach down and pull my shoes off while he grabs an envelope from where it's resting on top of one of the dressers.
"This is addressed to us." He holds up the cream card with embossed writing. "Want me to read it?"
"Sure."
Opening the card, he reads off what it says. "Dear Talon and Asia, congratulations on your wedding day! This is the first step in what we hope is your forever as a happy couple." He frowns over at me. "You have the option of leaving for your honeymoon tomorrow to spend two weeks at a romantic getaway, or, if you both feel you need more time to get to know each other, you may postpone the honeymoon for up to two months. If you choose to postpone, then the next step in the process is to move in together as soon as possible. Please contact us if you need advice, and remember your journals and video chats. Also, please refer to the guidelines provided. Most of all, have fun and open yourselves to love!"
He tosses the card back on the dresser with a roll of his eyes. "I dunno about a romantic getaway, but I could use a vacation, someplace exotic," he says. "What do you think?"
No to all of that. "Um, if it's okay with you, I'd like to wait."
"Really? You don't want to jump on a plane tomorrow and go somewhere exciting?"
Shaking my head, I know I'm already disappointing him. "I don't think I'm ready for that yet. And I'm afraid of planes; I've never been on one."
His expression is a mix of shock and humor. "What? Are you kidding?"
"No. I've never traveled at all."
He sits on the bed and kicks off his shoes. "That's gonna have to change. I travel a lot with the band, and I wanted a wife to come with me sometimes, or at least go on vacation with me when I'm not touring."
I swallow hard as my stomach sinks. "How often do you tour?"
"Depends. We don't tour a lot like most bands do, only like two or three times a year, sometimes more, and usually not longer than a few weeks at a time. My older brother who's in the band has family obligations, so he can't be away for long stretches of time."
"So what happens during the tour? Where do we stay if I went? And what happens to me if I stay home?"
He shrugs. "If you go, then we stay all over. On the bus, in motels. It all depends. If you don't go, you stay home wherever we're living."
That sounds awful to me, living like a gypsy. Exactly what I didn't want, not having a solid home. "That's not really what I wanted. I like to be home, and I don't like being alone all the time. I was hoping for stability." My voice cracks as I realize all the reasons I wanted to get married are slowly going down the drain.
"You'll have it. Just different than you thought." He meets my eyes for a moment and his soften just a bit. "Hey, we don't have to talk about all this right now. It's been a long day; we're both tired and a little bit wacked-out over this whole thing. Let's just get some rest, and tomorrow we'll figure out where we're going to live and everything else. If you wanna wait for the honeymoon, that's fine. I'm not gonna force you to do anything."
I smile weakly. "Thank you. This is just harder than I was expecting, I guess."
"Agreed. I'm gonna take a quick shower." He rummages around in one of his duffel bags the hotel staff brought up while we were at the reception and then disappears into the bathroom.
Letting out a deep breath, I close my eyes for a few moments and try to calm myself. It will be okay. They put us together. The
y know what they're doing. Right now I can't fathom what we have in common—or ever sharing any kind of closeness with this guy—but the experts must have seen something in him that I can't see yet.
Standing to get undressed, I realize I can't get my own wedding gown off. Shit. There are way too many tiny buttons I can't reach, and there is no way I'm going to get it up and over my head. I knew I should never have let Kat talk me into buying this dress. Tarzan barely even looked at me in it, anyway. I could have picked out something much simpler and easier to get off, and he never would have known any different.
"Why are you still sitting there?" He saunters out of the bathroom wearing nothing but black sweat pant shorts, his long hair damp and hanging down to the middle of his back and chest, tiny drops of water dripping down over his heavily inked and very muscular naked torso. And wow, this guy is ripped with hard, defined muscles. I've never seen so much muscle on a man in real life. Despite the hair and tats, just seeing his half-naked body and the way he flexes with each movement has my insides quivering. I cannot even imagine ever touching a body like that or having someone like him be interested or attracted to me in any way, in any realm of reality.
Tearing my eyes away from the muscular V that disappears under the waistband of his pants, I tell him I can't get the dress off.
"So I guess I hafta undress you?" He flashes that notoriously devilish grin at me and tosses his towel onto the floor.
"That would be great…if you don't mind."
He crosses the room quickly, and once he is standing next to me, I realize with my heels off, he's quite a bit taller than me. "I don't mind at all," he replies, still grinning. "Turn around."
I turn my back to him and take a deep breath. He's so close to me, his bare chest almost touching my back. Almost. I can feel the damp heat coming off his body, enveloping me in his warmth. His hands gently touch my shoulders as he bends down, his lips barely brushing against my ear, sending a shiver down my spine.
"Should I undo each button or just tear it off you." His voice is teasing but laced with raw sexiness.
He wants to play, and I think he enjoys the chase, but I'm not ready to be caught.
"I'd rather not destroy the dress… It's so pretty," I reply innocently. I have plans for the dress and its lace, buttons, and silk, my mind already outlining how I can repurpose it into at least ten different outfits and accessories.
"Good choice," he agrees. "There's a lot to unbutton… It's like unwrapping a present."
"I don't think I'm much of a gift."
His fingers work the buttons and eyelets, brushing against my flesh with each one that comes apart. "I'll be the judge of that when this dress is off you and I get you into that bed."
