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Me, apparently.
“I think so.” I study his hand lying on the seat beside me before I entwine our fingers. “You?”
“I want to kiss you again.”
Another giggle. “This—” I hold up my hand and show him the pretty flower ring he put on my finger. “I think this means you can kiss me whenever you want.”
“I like that. Whenever you want too,” he adds. “Do you want to kiss me?”
“Yes, but I’d really like to brush my teeth,” I confess.
“Are you one of those women who won’t kiss a guy in the morning until they’ve ‘freshened’ up?” Mase asks with a good-natured groan.
I have no idea. I’ve never spent the night with a man. I’ve had sex, but they’ve always left after the act was done. Even in a relationship, there were always reasons why the men didn’t spend the night. My bed was too hard for Bradley; Bryce couldn’t get used to the noise of the buses at night, and Brad was allergic to my cats. Also, Bradley said he was creeped out by my pet tortoise, Tut.
My husband is going to be the first man I sleep with, and he has no idea I have pets. He has no idea I snore when I sleep on my back and need my weighted blanket at night. I didn’t bring it, but I’ve already requested two extra blankets for the weight.
It’s going to be hot tonight.
He doesn’t know what I sleep in, that I need to read before bed, and that I have a favourite pair of turtle-shaped slippers that David gifted me years ago.
Instead of telling him any of this, I lean over and kiss him. I’d much rather kiss him than talk about my lack of experience in the bedroom and how my stomach has clenched into a knot the size of a baseball at the thought of what’s going to happen when we get back to the hotel.
It doesn’t hurt that Mase is anexceptionalkisser.
Maybe the other men I’ve kissed are lacking in skills, because none of them give me the feels like Mase does. Racing pulse, weak knees that make me happy I’m sitting, a gentle hand around my neck that tells me I’m wanted.
My stomach may be in knots, but my lady parts are jumping with anticipation. My wedding might not have been the stuff of fantasy, but there’s no doubt my wedding night will be.
Wedding morning. I’d still like to brush my teeth.
“What are we doing?” I sigh, tilting my head to give Mase better access to my neck, because he’s found the best spot below my ear to kiss.
“I’m kissing you and I hope you’re enjoying it.”
“I am.”
“Well, then, stop talking.” To emphasize his request, his clever mouth moves back to mine and stays there even after the cab pulls up to the hotel.
I only notice because the car stops moving. “I think we’re here,” I murmur, still with my arms around his neck, fingers thrust into his hair.
He has great hair.
“We have arrived,” Mase says with a wide smile, eyes shining like he knows exactly what is going to happen when we get upstairs. “Now, should I carry you into the hotel in my arms or over my shoulder?”
“Carry me?”
He points out the window. “Isn’t it customary for the groom to carry the bride across the threshold? So, I thought, through the lobby?”
“Not into a hotel.” I laugh. And then a thought hits me with clarifying certainty. “We can’t tell anyone.”
The smile is wiped off Mase’s face faster than one of Grayson’s fastballs. But instead of anger, his expression is one of hurt. “Why not?”
The sight of it hurts my heart. “We’re here for Bexley and Grayson,” I explain. “We can’t celebrate their engagement by getting married! It’s not—we can’t…”
“No,” he says slowly. “That wouldn’t be cool.”
“No. Not cool at all.” Even though I want nothing more than to run into Bexley’s room and tell her everything, it wouldn’t be right. This is her weekend, her moment; for me to run in like a steamroller with news like this would only spoil it.
