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Chapter 1
Noah
“Can’t believe you’re married, man.”
Neither can I.Offering Cody—my best man—a nervous smile, I nod. “Yeah, it’s pretty crazy.”
He laughs. “I mean, you’re thelastguy I pictured getting hitched before thirty. I still do not understand how Samantha locked it down.”
With a positive pregnancy test.“Just felt right,” I lie. Looking around the reception venue, I once again thank the heavens that Samantha’s dad paid for all of this. My savings account has about enough money to rent a car for three days before being drained. Just getting out of college will do that to you, I suppose.
The party is in full swing, food already having been devoured by guests an hour ago. How much longer do I need to stand around and accept the congratulations of people I’ve never met? I wish I knew. Luckily Samantha’s been living it up with her girls and leaving me alone in the process. She’s already driving me mad, and we’ve only been married for a total of two hours.
A steady hookup while hammering out a degree sounds great, in theory. Until it’s a relationship that you didn’t ask to be in. Until it’s a plus sign on a little pink test, and marriage arrangements.
Samantha is pretty, of course. She’s got bombshell curves, a pretty face, long blonde hair, and blue eyes. On paper, she’s a catch. Four year degree, respectable family, money, and connections that will solidify a prosperous future. I just…don’tlove her. Sometimes I wonder if I evenlikeher.
“Hey, chin up,” Cody tells me, nodding to my wife on the dance floor. “You get to bang that for the rest of your life. Can’t be all that bad, eh?”
I almost ask if he wants to trade places. “Right,” I say instead. “I’m going to get another drink.
“Don’t get sloshed,” he warns, chuckling. “How embarrassing will it be if you can’t get it up on your wedding night?”
“Sure.”I’m counting on it.
He wanders off while I head toward the bar, prepared to order my third rum and coke of the night. A firm hand settles on my shoulder, tearing my attention away from the awaiting drinks. My stomach does a strange flip when I notice who’s got a hold of me.
Henry Donahue, Samantha’s father. My new father-in-law who looks ten years younger than he is. The guy who could probably break me in half with the muscles that his suit can’t hide, and with dark and daunting eyes that sear into my soul every time he spares me a glance.
“Noah,” he greets curtly. “You don’t resemble a man who’s just been happily married.”
Arching a brow, I can’t help but question him. “No? What do I look like then?”
He leans closer, the oaky smell of his aftershave invading my space as his lips hover near my ear. “You look like a caged bird. One that has given up on trying to escape.”
“Should I?” I ask. “Try to escape?”
He chuckles, and his breath hits my neck. Chills spread down my back, and blood rushes from my head. “It is never too late to escape, wouldn’t you agree?”
I step back, startled by the unusual reaction my body seems to have to him. I’m warm all over, and fuck,hardall over as well.
“I don’t know,” I mumble, reaching for a flute of champagne. I don’t even like champagne, but it’s readily available and chilled. It does nothing to quell the burning inside of me, though. The burning I’ve never felt for my wife, let alone anyone else. Man or woman.
“Well, you’ll have plenty of time to figure it out,” he says, pulling back to his full height—at least four inches above my own six-foot stature. “Tonight.”
“Tonight?” I ask, confused.
He hums, looking pleased. His lips split into a smirk. “Tonight, indeed.”
A squeal of delight shrieks in my ear, and I wince, bracing myself. Samantha’s arms slap around my shoulders in a rough hug, and she jumps up and down with excitement. “Isn’t this the best night?” she asks, smooshing a kiss to my cheek, likely leaving a mess of red lipstick in her wake.
I’m less concerned with the stain, and more with her smell. “Have you been drinking?”
She stills, and then laughs. “Of course not, I don't want to be sloppy on my wedding day. Penny just spilled earlier.”Sloppy on my wedding dayis the excuse, because her father doesn’t know we’re expecting. At least, she says he doesn’t.
Giving her a disbelieving look, I ask, “Did she spill it into your mouth?”
Her eyes narrow, and her smile flattens as she removes her arms and steps to my side. “So, did you tell him the good news, daddy?”
