Page 56 of Walkoff Wedding

I stretch my arms over my head, a yawn escaping in the process, and she glances up at me, her brow furrowed.

“Crap, I’m on your bed, I’m sorry.” She pushes to her feet quickly, but I stop her before she can escape to the bedroom.

“It’s okay. I’m just tired from my workout this morning. I’ve been training harder than I normally do to get ready for preseason. Trust me, I’m in no hurry to hang off that thing all night. Stay as long as you’d like.” I wink before disappearing through the entryway to the kitchen for a bottle of water.

I grab us both one and walk back out into the living room, where I find her staring off into the distance, chewing on the tip of her nail, lost in thought.

“You can sleep with me,” she blurts out suddenly, her eyes widening in alarm as she starts to backtrack. “No. I mean… literal sleeping. We can share your bed. I-I… I don’t want you to have to keep sleeping on this couch. You’re too big for it, and it’s uncomfortable, and I feel terrible when I get in bed at night and I have to think about you out here on the sofa that makes your back hurt. Especially with your training.” She’s nervously rambling, and it might actually be the cutest thing I’ve ever fucking heard. “I mean, not that I lay in bed and think about you all night. I just mean when I’m thinking about you out here being uncomfortable. This is coming out all wrong.” Finally, she pauses, blowing out an exasperated breath before restarting, this time less rambly. “What I’m trying to say is… we’re both adults. We can share the same bed platonically. It’s literally huge. That way, your back won’t hurt anymore, and I won’t have to feel guilty about stealing your bed. Easy-peasy.”

My brow arches in amusement, and she winces. “Please put me out of my misery because I want to die currently.”

I close the distance between us and set the bottles of water down on the table. “Please don’t die. I’m way too young to be a widower.” When she gives me a small smile, I shoot her a playful wink before my expression sobers slightly. “Addie, if you’re comfortable with sharing a bed with me, then great, I’d take you up on it, but also, if you’re not and just feeling obligated to offer… There’s absolutely no pressure. I’m perfectly fine out here on the couch, or I wouldn’t have offered. Besides, Auggie’s been sneaking out to sleep with me, and he and I are becoming fast friends, thanks to the spooning.”

She shakes her head rapidly. “No. I’m sure. Every night, I feel ridiculously guilty that I’ve inadvertently kicked you out of your own space, and it’s fine… no big deal. We can totally do this.”

“Are you really sure?”

“Yes,” she says, her voice steady.

“Okay. You go get changed first, and I’ll take Auggie out? Give you time to get settled?” I say, glancing over at Auggie, whose ears perk at the mention of his name.

Addie nods and reaches up to tuck her hair behind her ear. She opens her mouth as if she’s going to say something but then abruptly closes it and disappears down the hallway into our bedroom.

Thankfully, Auggie’s not interested in staying outside in the hot, humid heat, so he quickly takes care of business. I hang up his leash on the rack once we’re back inside, watching as he pads back to his signature spot on the sofa and flops down like the outing took every ounce of his energy. When he cocks his head to the side and stares at me with a look that can only be construed as judgy, I shake my head.

“Don’t look at me like that. I know exactly what you’re thinking.” My brow arches. “It’ll be fine. I can handle platonically sharing a bed.”

Somehow, he looks as if he doesn’t believe me. Not sure how that’s possible since he’s a dog, but then again, here I am having a full conversation with him like he’s going to participate.

The real problem though?

I’m not sure if I’m trying to convince him or myself.

chapter seventeen

Addie

I’m in deep—treacherously deep—trouble.

I realize that fact as I’m standing in front of the counter at the bakery, running my fingers over my lips, absentmindedly thinking about the kiss. Which is what I’ve decided I’m referring to it as from this moment on.

But the kiss isn’t the sole reason I’ve found myself in trouble.

No.

It’s also the fact that I laid in bed last night beside Grant, close enough that I could feel the heat from his body and the steady rise and fall of his chest, with my heart racing all night until it was almost time for my alarm to go off this morning.

I’m running purely on adrenaline at this point. Yet here I am, still obsessing over kissing my husband.

It’s all supposed to be for show, all that we did just for practice. But… if that’s true, then why can’t I stop thinking about the way his lips felt as they moved against mine? How safe I felt to be in his arms? Or how nice it was to give control over to someone else, even if only for the smallest moment of time?

None of last night felt fake. Not the date, or the kiss, or falling asleep surrounded by his scent, listening to the rhythmic sound of his breathing beside me.

It was the kiss to end all kisses.

Technically, it was our second kiss. The first being the day we were married, but this kiss felt completely different. Different because it burned… brighter. More intensely. I felt the singe of his touch along my skin, the feeling traveling inside my veins until something deep and hot pulled inside my belly…and between my thighs.

A feeling I’ve never really felt before.

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