Page 74 of Insta Bride

I placed my small hand over Kye’s larger one, not letting him pick up the offending frame.

“Does it annoy you?”

“Babe, I can’t even tell you how much.”

“Then how about this is my subtle way of saying if you do something that annoys me, I’ll bring out the photo.”

“Why would you do that? Why not just talk to me?”

“Because, I don’t want to fight all the time. I thought this would be subtle.”

“Lena, when you think you can handle me looking at a woman the way you were looking at that dude, bring out the photo. Otherwise, just keep it away.”

“Point taken,” I turned Kye away from the wall unit and showed him the way to my bedroom.

Hours later, I’d never think of it as my bedroom again.

Kye had made it well and truly, ours.

He might be my husband.

He might not have ever told me he loved me.

But, I couldn’t stop falling in love with my husband.

Damn.

Kye

I thought six months of being married would be a piece of cake. We’d fight, sure. But one month into married life, Elena knew I was in it for the long haul, we could make up in the best way possible.

The sex was incredible.

Seriously, she bought out my A-game.

I did things with Elena that other women had begged me for. Equal orgasms? If we were keeping score—and I knew at least one of us was—Elena was on the receiving end of all the good news. I loved making her purr. Hell, I could go hours just pleasuring my wife, knowing at the end of the night, she’d make it worth my while.

It wasn’t the fighting, or the conversation, or the sex. It wasn’t even the little things about living with another person. I got used to letting her know if I’d be late. I even invited her out to join me if a late meeting ended up being drinks with a potential customer.

As one of the hottest salespeople at tech hardware giant, GHU, I kept my own hours—or at least I kept the client’s hours. If they wanted to talk, I was there. If they wanted a drinking buddy, I already had reservations. My hours hadn’t changed with my marriage, but I made sure Elena always felt welcome.

The novelty about our relationship with our friends had worn off after the first month.

My friends assured her they’d be waiting when I fucked things up and she wanted husband number two.

Her friends were cautious.

Tash and Jess were great looking women and I was grateful that I hadn’t met either of them in my single days. But they were as protective as fuck over Elena. They scrutinised my every look, and sentence. All the stuff I did on the island or when we first got home—coffee in bed, making her almost a three-course breakfast on weekends, getting a jacket the second I thought she was getting chilly—I did nothing like that when her friends were around.

Yep, I was the douchbag determined to rebel against their expectations. To live down to my reputation.

Jess knew people who knew women I’d slept with. By the end of the first month, I’d defended my life choices more times than I cared to remember.

“What now?” I groaned when Elena came back from another ladies liquid lunch.

“Jess knows a friend of yours, Soxie?”

“Soxie?” The name didn’t ring a bell until Elena showed me a photo. Buxom, blonde. Whiter than white teeth and fake tan. Lips painted three shades of red. Of course Jess had gotten a photo.

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