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I’ve never been jealous, let alone of someone like this gym rat, who’s showing way too much interest in Freedom.
In my wife.
His eyes scan her dress, the one that hits just below her knee and flares just a bit when she walks. There’s no missing the interest flashing in his eyes, or the way they linger a bit too long on the sliver of cleavage she’s displaying with that tasteful, yet sexy dress.
My feet are moving before I can even stop myself. The pulse of the music thumps right along with my heart. Approaching where they stand, she notices me before Mr. Gym Guy, her eyes flashing with something that looks like excitement.
“Are you sure?” I hear him ask.
Before she can answer, I slip my arm around her waist and pull her into my embrace. Freedom moves willingly, her hand gripping the back of my dress shirt. “Hey, you,” she whispers, her voice sounding all breathy. It reminds me of sex.
Suddenly, I have a flashback.
Freedom pinning me with a look of pure rapture as I slide inside her body.
“Are you okay?” Her words pull me from the memory, the concern in her eyes binding me where I stand.
“Oh, yeah,” I reply, clearing my throat. Even though I know the gym guy is still standing there, I pay him no attention. I can’t. Freedom’s hands are now on my chest, her fingers fumbling with the knot of my tie.
“Sorry, I’m begin rude. Jason, this is my husband.”
Her husband.
My mind flashes back to the moment I slid the ring onto her finger and the smile in her eyes as she watched.
“Dance with me.” I don’t know who says those words, but they apparently slip from my own lips.
Freedom takes my hand and pulls me onto the dance floor, gym guy completely forgotten. She stands directly in front of me, her much shorter body still lining up perfectly with my own. We get lost in the crowd, bodies surrounding us in a sea of dancers.
I’m not a dancer. Far from it. It makes me uncomfortable, especially in a situation like this one with other bodies all packed together in a tight space. But as I watch Freedom start to move her hips and sway in time with the music, suddenly, dancing feels like the only thing to do. So, I place my hands on her hips and let her take the lead. Also, something else I’m not familiar with.
My family is near, but I pay them no attention. Even without the effects of alcohol in my system, I’m lost in the moment, in her. This woman. The only one who can drive me crazy with indignation and make me want to kiss her lips at the same time. I’ve fought it for years. Years. Family gatherings, holidays, randomly running into her at the grocery store. Years I’ve tried to appear indifferent, all while this bubble of yearning settles in my chest, alive and breathing.
I haven’t wanted to be attracted to her. Oh, no. I’ve fought it. I’ve told myself it can’t happen—won’t happen. Yet that didn’t stop my brain from conjuring up images of her wild hair and her bare feet. Those damn bracelets that annoy the crap out of me. That smile that beckons me closer, most likely to my doom.
Yet, here I am. Dancing. With my hands on her hips and my own body swaying to the seductive pulse. The scent of her shampoo and lotion permeating my senses and all I can feel, all I can smell is her. My wife.
Guilt is a powerful beast, and it chooses that moment to rear its ugly head. How can she be happy? This entire mess has been just that. A mess. No way is this how it’s supposed to go, how she’s supposed to spend the rest of her life. It can’t happen. I won’t let it happen. No one wants to get married while so intoxicated you can’t even remember it. No one should spend the rest of their life with someone just because of that mistake.
And that’s what we made.
A mistake.
One I can rectify.
I pull back, my eyes meeting hers for a few seconds. I almost say forget it and press my body against hers once more. But I can’t let it happen. For her and for me. Freedom seems to understand my hesitation. With the softest smile, she takes me hand and leads me off the dance floor. We make our way to the table where part of my family rests, no one seeming the least bit affected by our nearness, our hands linked, our borderline inappropriate dancing. Maybe they just couldn’t see it. Or maybe they’re choosing to ignore it. Either way, no one so much as bats an eye when we stop at the table.
I guzzle my water, wishing for the first time in a long damn time, it were something stronger. Freedom brings that out of me. That desire to drink. No, that’s not exactly a good thing either. She’s frustrating and vexatious and so damn outrageous she makes my brain bleed. She’s also smart and gorgeous and so damn sexy. I usually just try to ignore those qualities in favor of the ones that don’t give me hard-ons in public places.
After a few more songs, the bride and groom join us. “We’re heading out,” Harper says, a look in her eyes when she glances at her husband I don’t want to think about.
Freedom throws her arms around her best friend’s neck and squeezes tight. The both whisper-yell over the music, my sister’s face blushing. Yeah, I definitely don’t want to know what they’re saying.
Instead, I turn my attention to my new brother-in-law. I hold out my hand, which he takes easily, his smile full of everything I’d ever hope for my sister. You know, considering I wasn’t too sure about Latham Douglas in the beginning, I’m pretty pleased they’re together now. He adores her, makes her happier than I’ve ever seen her before. As long as he keeps treating her right, he’ll always have an ally in me.
“Be good to her,” I feel the need to say, even though I know he will. Call it that big brother instinct. Some things just need to be said, and it wouldn’t be the first time I’ve said almost the exact same words. In fact, Rhenn has heard them too.
He grips my hand firmly and keeps his eyes locked on mine. “I will.” He glances at his new wife, his eyes softening as he says, “She’s the best thing to ever happen to me.”
