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Liam tugs me closer and cups the back of my neck. It’s a sensitive spot, and shivers run down my spine. I tilt my head upward, focusing on his mouth coming for mine. Maybe if I close my eyes, it will be over with quicker. But instead, I watch in slow motion and so does he. His gaze is locked with mine, and then it happens. Like an electric current, Liam zaps me as our lips meet. I blink and pull back as I planned to. But Liam leans down again, and his other arm wraps firmly around my waist. Heat swirls around me, cocooning us like a cozy blanket on a winter’s night. My mouth relaxes as his lips smooth over mine. I breathe in his yummy cologne and softly sigh when he finishes the kiss.
He's smiling at me, and my cheeks heat. I sighed and he heard.
Dang it.
Claps and cheers explode around the room as our guests stand. I turn toward them. Liam holds our joined hands high. We did it.
Oh, flipping heck. I’m Mrs. Liam Ashley.
Chapter 6
LIAM
I'm a married man. The words roll around in my head, taking up way too much space. Trina stands next to me in the hotel lobby. We made it to Nantucket. Our suitcases sit at our feet. I crane my head back to study the chandelier that hangs overhead. Crystal bobbers dangle from it and catch the light.
I tried not to gape when we first arrived, but I have never seen anything like this before. Not even when I’m on the road with the team. We don’t stay in places like this. Dollar bills dance in front of my eyes. I can’t fathom how much the show is paying for us to stay here for our honeymoon.
All thoughts come to a screeching halt.
Honeymoon. I suck air through my teeth and avoid meeting Trina’s eyes.
She’s a statue by my side. The last time I glanced at her, she wore a bedazzled expression and let out a low whistle.
A man wheeling a cart rolls toward us. “Checking in?”
“Yes.” I snap out of my reverie and approached the desk. “Liam Ashley.”
Trina clears her throat.
Sweat beads on my forehead despite the cold air pumping overhead. I tug at my collar, a plain Polo collar instead of the constricting tuxedo thing. Why am I still choking?
The man behind the desk cocks his head at us. His fingers fly over the keyboard. “Mr. and Mrs. Ashley.” His eyebrows lower, then shoot upward.
Do I even want to know what he saw on the screen?
“If you’ll follow Chris, he’ll show you to your room.” He holds out a pair of keycards. “Please enjoy your stay.” Something in his voice rings false. As does the plastic smile that looks more like a grimace.
