Page 18 of This Wild Heart

I set a hand on my chest, my palm clocking the wild flutters. “I suppose it’s inevitable that this will go public.” A sad, quiet laugh escaped. “I don’t even know what I looked like at my own wedding.”

Parker fished out his phone and scrolled, pausing whenever he found what he was looking for and then leaning forward to hand it to me. “Vida took this. Said to show it to you first thing.”

My heart raced, a wild drumming under my skin as I took the phone from him. On the screen was a picture of me and Parker at the chapel. I was still in my cutoffs and my T-shirt, but someone had slapped a veil over my head.

His arm was wrapped around my waist, anchoring me to his side, and we both grinned happily at the camera, flashing our ring fingers.

A shaking hand covered my mouth because it was the only way I could hold in the string of expletives that threatened to come out. Instead of chucking the phone across the room like I wanted to, I handed it back.

“When do we need to leave for this flight?” I asked calmly.

I mean, Isoundedcalm. My face probably even looked it too. But the violent churning of freak-out building underneath my skin was terrifying. If Parker got even the slightest hint of it, he’d run for cover.

He glanced at the clock on the wall. “About an hour. So you have time to shower if you want.”

I rubbed my forehead. “And how long did I say I’d live with you?”

For the first time, he looked nervous. Shifty gaze. Large swallow that made his Adam’s apple bob in his throat. My gaze narrowed, waiting for whatever he was going to say next.

“We hadn’t really discussed that yet,” he admitted, eyeing me carefully. “I’m mostly focused on the visit home. Get the pack of sisters off my fucking back. But they’ll buy it.”

“Naturally.” A panicky bubble of laughter threatened to spill up my throat. “Because why wouldn’t your family think we’re actually, really married?”

This time, his face melted into a devastating smile, deep brackets on either side of his mouth that inexplicably made me want to press my thumbs in those grooves. “Trust me, if you knew half the shit my siblings had pulled over the years? This is nothing. They want me to be happy so bad, they’ll believe anything. This morning was the hard part,” he said smoothly. “Convincing my wife that she wasn’t drugged and coerced.” I rolled my eyes slightly, but my cheeks felt warm. “It should be easy enough talking to your family, and it’ll be smooth sailing from there.”

I stared at him for a few long seconds, then burst out laughing.

His brow furrowed when I bent at the waist and tried to stem the sounds that fell from my mouth.

“Oh, Parker,” I said between helpless giggles. “That’s not going to be the easy part. If you make it out of my parents’ house alive, then we’ll talk.”

Chapter 5

Parker

My blushing, hungover bride walked onto the private plane, found a seat at the back, curled up underneath a blanket from one of the staff, and promptly fell asleep, unmoving even during takeoff. The buttery soft leather set was tempting enough for a nap, but instead, I leaned back and closed my eyes, trying to get my equilibrium after the past twenty-four hours.

It felt like someone unleashed a hurricane on my life.

No, not someone.

Me. Didn’t matter that the actual marriage had been a joint decision. This was still weight that I’d have to carry on my own shoulders. A storm that I’d invited inside.

But it didn’t feel like devastation. It didn’t feel negative—all this wild shifting of the electricity in the air. I hadn’t felt like this in so long, with any sort of ferocious anticipation for what would come next.

What a wild card she was. Briefly, I opened my eyes and watched Anya sleep.

In the clear light of day, without the haze of alcohol, she was even more beautiful. High cheekbones and thick, dark eyelashes. Toned limbs and mile-long legs—even though we hadn’t measured, she had to be over six feet tall.

Yeah, close to that, I thought, remembering how it felt to look down into her face at the front of that chapel. We said simple vows, better or worse, richer or poorer, etcetera, etcetera. But it was after the vows that it all felt so terrifyingly real. I could’ve kissed her. Shewantedme to.

But something held me back, a whisper of restraint as foreign to me as the anticipation. I didn’t really know where it came from, but I was really fucking thankful for it when she stripped down to nothing but lace underwear and asked me to screw her into the mattress.

Briefly, I eyed my lap because that little asshole needed to get in line. There was no time for even the slightest of hard-ons, but if anything would do it, it wasn’t even just the eleven-month dry spell.

It washer. At that moment she tore off her clothes, if the ceiling had split open and a spotlight from heaven appeared, angels singing en masse at the sight of her, I would not have been fucking surprised. I’d see Anya’s naked body on my deathbed and remember it fondly as one of the seven wonders of the natural world.

Thank God, her legs were covered because showing up at the airfield in Seattle with a boner wouldn’t help anything. For a few minutes, I sat there thinking about my fifth-grade math teacher—a horrifying woman who regularly gave me nightmares. It helped. Quickly.

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