Page 41 of The Wrong Groom

What the fuck am I doing?

The thought cuts through the haze of desire. I feel as though I’ve suddenly been doused with an icy bucket of cold reality.

I can’t. I can’t do this. What the fuck is wrong with me?

I pull away, my heart racing as I step back, creating distance between us. She stares at me, seeming a bit stunned.

The guilt comes rushing in like a landslide as my rational brain takes back over. I had drawn careful lines in the sand, only to have them washed away in an instant by a single kiss. A kiss that I initiated.

I clear my throat, turning away so that I don’t have to see the dazed look on Alexis’s face, or the flicker of hurt that creeps into her eyes.

“I have more work to do,” I say, my voice rough. I pace behind the desk and sit back down. My laptop is like a shield between us. I open it, my fingers hovering over the keyboard to insulate myself from the tension that lingers in the air.

“Okay,” she says faintly.

“You, uh, you don’t need to wait up for me.”

“Okay.” I hear the rustle of fabric as she turns for the door. I keep my eyes glued to the screen, pretending to focus on the task at hand, but my thoughts are racing.

When I look up again, after several minutes, she’s gone.

I lean back in my chair, rubbing my hands over my face, trying to will away the frustration that sits in my chest.

What the hell am I doing?

Chapter 14

Alexis

I lean back against the plush pillows in Gabriel’s bed, trying to focus on the romance novel I’m reading. The small type swims before my eyes, and my head spins. I flip a page, but the words don’t register. My mind is too preoccupied with the kiss.

He kissed me.

Gabriel Thorne kissed me.

And it wasn’t just a brush of lips or an obligatory gesture to fulfill some unspoken marital duty. It was real. Intense. Hungry. And utterly unexpected.

I couldn’t have predicted that if I’d tried. Any of it. The conversation. The kiss. The warmth. The vulnerability in Gabriel’s words, in his gaze. He looked at me like I was something precious. He opened up so much, talked to me like I was someone he wanted to know deeply. It felt like he was revealing a part of himself that he rarely shows to anyone.

And the way he kissed me…

I breathe out, letting the book fall on my stomach, splayed open. That kiss affected me. I feel like a spark has been ignited within me, sending warmth coursing through my veins. I replay the kiss over and over in my head, and the embers of that passion smolder in my chest.

I hear footsteps on the stairs, and a jolt of anticipation runs through me. My pulse jumps. Every cell in my body wakes up, as if I’m about to be caught in the act of some crime. Like it’s illegal for me to sit here and think about him. Like he’ll know exactly what I was thinking about, just by looking at my face.

I sit up straight, propping myself against the headboard, and snatch up my book. My fingers flip it open to somewhere, anywhere, pretending to read, although my vision is hazy with nerves. I force my eyes to focus on the page, trying to look casual, just in case Gabriel is, in fact, a mind reader.

Of course, given the genre of this book, this might not be a safer option than obvious fantasizing. The romance is heating up. The leading man is leaning in, his lips almost brushing against the heroine’s. He whispers, “I’ve waited a long time for this.” And she tells him, “Me too.”

The door creaks open.

Gabriel steps into the bedroom, pausing just inside.

He hesitates as I look up, like he’s waiting for permission to enter his own bedroom. Our eyes lock. He watches me for a long moment with an intensity that makes my heart race.

“Hey,” he says. “You’re still awake.”

I nod. My throat feels tight, and I can’t seem to find my voice. I don’t trust myself to speak, anyway. I’m certain that I’d only be capable of garbled nonsense or a damning confession.