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“Oh Killian…” she breathed, stunned.
He bit the inside of his cheek hard to keep his brain in check – and his mouth. It would not be tough at all to take this woman to bed and if she kept looking at him like this, he was going to heft her up over his shoulders and carry her off to the nearest cave…
“… I now pronounce you husband and wife,” the magistrate was saying. Killian realized he completely zoned out on the part where Destiny was supposed to slide his band on his finger – and it was still in his pocket.
“You may kiss your bride, Mr. Briscoe.”
Destiny turned a cheek towards him – and Killian frowned.
This was going to be a massive problem.
* * *
An hour later,they had pulled up to her house and Destiny was doing everything she could to avoid looking at him, making him wonder if she was having second thoughts.
She was about to go into the house – and he instantly balked.
“STOP!”
Destiny froze, mid-step, and looked at him, horrified… and that is when Killian realized he’d screamed in panic the word ‘stop’ at her.
“I don’t want to take any chances with bad luck, misfortune, or jinxing us… so hang on…” he explained, jogging up to the house quickly instead of getting the items out of the trunk of his rental car. He swept her up in his arms without a word and felt her cling to his shoulders, like she was afraid he’d drop her.
Never.
That would never happen.
As he carried her over the threshold, he tried to give her a gentle smile to settle her flighty nerves. The woman before him looked exceedingly anxious or nervous, reminding him of a scared bunny that was cornered by a predator in its own den.
… And she had no idea how accurate this was.
He wanted her – badly – but not like this. He wanted her smiling, looking at him with those beautiful eyes like he was the hero in their story, and melting in his arms… and he had to figure out how to do that without kissing the confounded woman.
Killian backed away, giving her space.
“I’m going to get a few things out of the trunk of my car, and I’ll be right back,” he explained, leaving her standing there.
He grabbed the bags of things, hefting them up on both arms so he only had to make one trip, and walked back up to the house… only to see that she had already changed into her work uniform in record time.
Destiny worked until nine tonight – and it looked like she was going to go into work a little earlier than noon as she’d mentioned.
“Here,” he said simply, digging out the cell phone as he set the bags down on the living room floor. “I got you a cell phone this morning, so we have a way to talk to each other. I can’t get calls when I’m in Afghanistan, but sometimes text messages go through if I’m traveling or if it picks up a Wi-Fi signal…”
“You got me a cell phone?”
“I want you to have one in case you have an emergency,” he explained. “No more quarters or nasty payphones… I added you to my bill, so it’s all handled.”
“Thank you,” she whispered – and he felt so out of place right now. This was uncomfortable and awkward, and he didn’t know how to fix it. There was no celebration, no wedding cake, no champagne. This was a transaction between two consenting adults – and it felt so wrong.
He wanted his marriage to be something both of them enjoyed, accepted, and looked forward to – yet this was changing somehow. Those happy glances and dreamy gazes were gone… and they were nearly circling each other, waiting for an attack.
“Are we okay?” he asked quietly. “Are you regretting this?”
“I’m nervous.”
“Me too.”
“You are?”
