Page 49 of This Wild Heart

“Did you pack anything that matches the Voyagers logo?” I eyed the massive replica on the wall in front of me—deep blue, forest green, and white.

“I—what?”

“Like it or not, we have two hours before we make our social media debut, wife.” I smiled grimly. “I hope you’re ready to play the happy couple in front of the entire world.”

Chapter 12

Parker

Anya did, in fact, have something that matched the Voyagers colors.

Thank God no cameras were trained on me when I walked into the house because I almost tripped over my own fucking feet.

The bright green dress had thin straps over her shoulders, fitted across her chest with a demure V that showed only the slightest hint of cleavage. It flared out at her waist, falling around the knees. Her hair was down, and she’d used a delicate little braid to hold her hair off her face, the rest of it in loose waves falling around her shoulders.

Her hands were reaching behind her back as she caught my eye. “Help. I can’t get these last little hooks, and I don’t know how soon they’ll be here.”

I blinked a few times, words sticking like peanut butter in my throat. “Uh. Soon. I … I got caught up in a last-minute meeting with our offensive coordinator and couldn’t get out the door as soon as I hoped.”

Anya nodded. “I know it’s a dress, and you said we should stay casual, but I really didn’t have anything else that matched. I brought it for the weekend at your family’s house, just in case we went out to dinner or something.”

Before she turned her back to me, Anya swept her hair out of the way, and sure enough, a part of the zipper was undone at the top. Light freckles dusted her upper back, and for a moment, I could only stare.

She glanced at me, her eyes so much greener than usual because of the dress and whatever gold stuff she’d swept over her eyelids. “Can you get it?”

I looked down again. I … yes. I could do this. I had working hands and a functioning brain, and I could manage to hook a fucking zipper without doing something stupid.

Stepping up behind Anya, I clenched my jaw and studied the variation of golds in her hair. Some of it was so white it didn’t even look real. Some was darker, richer. She smelled incredible. Like grapefruit and something warm.

Apparently, I could do something stupid because I let my fingers dip into the back of her dress as I tugged the zipper the remaining few inches. Let them linger on the soft, firm skin of her back as I connected the small metal hook.

Anya was holding her body so still that I wasn’t even sure she was breathing.

Moments like that, it was impossible not to close my eyes and remember how she’d looked in the hotel. God, I’d tried to forget. But there was no forgetting her curves, not for as long as I lived. My hands took on a life of their own, sneaky little bastards, and I watched with a strange sort of detachment as my fingers traced the thin straps holding up her dress.

“This is pretty,” I murmured.

“Thank you.” Her voice was shakier than normal, like she couldn’t quite breathe properly. Then again, neither could I. I took a step closer, my chest lightly brushing her back, and I let my palms coast over the tops of her shoulders and down her upper arms. “What are you doing?”

“Touching my wife.” It was a logical answer, wasn’t it? Even though logic didn’t seem to have a foothold in any of this. “They’ll expect that.”

She tilted her head forward, exposing the graceful line of her neck. “Are we pretending again?” she whispered.

“Just a little,” I whispered back.

My hands slid back up her arms, and I used the tips of my fingers to trace the bump of her spine at the base of her neck. Light, teasing touches. I was two fucking seconds from leaning down and kissing her right there. Right on that little bump before dragging my nose up into her hair and turning her around to touch her in other places too.

Meow.

My eyes snapped open just as Anya exhaled a quiet laugh. “Hey, Spike. How was your nap?”

The cat sat right in front of us, and when I locked eyes with him over Anya’s shoulder, he narrowed his golden eyes and hissed. Loudly.

I held my hands up. “Sorry, chief. Backing away.”

Anya’s cheeks were flushed pink when she fixed her hair, glancing at me after allowing some distance between us. “He’s not hissing because you were touching me.”

“Sure he was.” I eyed the cat. Didn’t matter if he only had three legs, that asshole would chase me down in a heartbeat if he thought he could do enough damage. “That cat’s a living, breathing cockblock if I’ve ever met one.”

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