Page 60 of Walkoff Wedding

Pretty much all of my teen and college years have been spent perfecting the art of blending in, doing whatever I could to not draw attention to myself, and that’s the way I’ve always wanted things.

But suddenly, it feels like an impossible feat. Now that I’m married to Grant, someone everyone notices—even from the other side of the room, I spot him and his friends at the back corner booth. Not because they’re the loudest group in here, which they are, but because everyone’s attention seems to gravitate toward them. Girls walk over, twirling their hair and batting their eyelashes as they flirt, and the thought of one of them flirting with him causes something unfamiliar to stir in my gut.

Is that jealousy?

The feeling takes me by surprise because it’s one that I’ve never experienced before when it comes to a guy, but I guess it’s another first I’ve experienced since meeting Grant.

Even so, it’s still a feeling that settles heavily in the pit of my stomach. One that I don’t like.

Crossing the busy restaurant, I make my way toward the table in the back, and when I stop in front of it, Grant’s piercing blue eyes flit to mine. The smile that spreads on his face makes it impossible not to mirror with my own. I couldn’t stop my smile even if I tried. He looks happy to see me, and that does something funny to my chest.

My earlier nerves seem to wilt away, just like that, and all I can focus on is the man in front of me.

“Hey, baby,” he rasps, sliding out of the booth and sidestepping the girl who was desperately trying to get his attention. The smallest sliver of satisfaction runs through me as he does.

Baby.

That’s new. I think maybe I like hearing it even more than ArtGirl.

“Hi,” I reply quietly, reaching up to finger the end of the braided pieces of my hair as he peers down at me with his lopsided grin.

His large palms settle on my hips and then slide along my lower back, gently tugging me to him at the same time his lips slant over mine for a kiss. He kisses me like he’s… marking his territory in some way. And I think that I like it.

Letting him… claim me like this.

It’s the hottest thing I’ve ever experienced.

His fingers press into my skin as he groans against my mouth hungrily, tilting his head slightly to deepen the kiss. When I feel the trace of his tongue along the seam of my lips, asking me to open to him, my knees feel like they might actually give out.

How is it even possible that he kisses this good?

Not that I have anything else to compare it to, but still, I know it can’t get better than this. It’s all-consuming, and every inch of my body feels like it’s on fire. It makes me wonder, if he’s this good at kissing, what other things he must be good at. My cheeks burn yet again at the thought.

When his friends begin whistling and catcalling from the table, he groans against my mouth and then tears his lips away, leaving me breathlessly staring up at him.

His gaze lingers on my eyes for a moment before he drops down to my lips for one more quick peck and then leans in and brushes his lips along the shell of my ear, inciting a shiver down my spine. “I wish you could see what I do right now. You, thoroughly kissed by your husband. Those pouty, pretty little lips, swollen and red. Your cheeks flushed my favorite shade of pink. You look like a piece of art, Addie.”

If I wasn’t already about to melt into a puddle of mush at his feet, I am now. I bite back a smile as I glance up at him through my lashes.

I keep telling myself that this is supposed to be fake, but it’s the moments like this when everything feels too real. It’s both confusing and exciting, a hundred different emotions running through my head.

None of them are close to the feeling that pulls in my belly. A fire that he’s somehow started with nothing more than a brush of his lips. It’s dangerous because I know that if I’m not careful… I’m going to get burned.

“Guys, this is my wife, Addie,” Grant says to the table of guys in front of us, lacing his fingers in mine and squeezing reassuringly. “Be respectful, or I’m beating your asses.”

My smile is shy as I lift a hand and wave. I feel like I’m a new student standing in front of the classroom and having to introduce myself. “Hi. Nice to meet you all.”

There’s a chorus of hellos as everyone begins to greet me and offer their name, but honestly, I don’t remember a single one… except Davis, since we’d already met. He gives me a flirty wink when it’s his turn to introduce himself and says, “If you ever get sick of this guy and want a man to treat you right, you know where to find me.”

Grant tenses beside me, and the only way to describe the look on his face is murderous, so I tighten my fingers in his. When he looks down at me, I surprise even myself when I rise on my tiptoes and press a sweet, quick kiss to the corner of his mouth. Apparently, I’m not the only one who’s been feeling jealous.

Rightfully or not.

After the introductions, I move to slide into the crowded booth next to Grant, but he wraps his arms around my waist and settles me into his lap instead, tossing me a playful grin. “You’ve got the best seat in the house, baby.”

For the second time tonight, the term of endearment has my pulse racing. I keep reminding myself that this is all for show, that we’re just playing the part that we said we would, but this man is the best actor I’ve ever seen. He plays his role effortlessly, without a single ounce of hesitation, so well that even I start to believe it.

“You like that?” he whispers into my ear when the guys get into a heated debate about whether cheerleading is considered a sport or not. Spoiler alert: it is.

---