Page 115 of Beyond the Stroke

For the first time since we met, Summer’s guard is down. If this is a dream, I don’t want to wake up.

I know it’s best to keep our situation light and playful, but the lust in her gaze is palpable and fuck if it’s not wreaking havoc on my restraint. Pushing off the island, I close the space between us. My hands drop to the counter on either side of her hips.

“So, let me get this straight,” I drop my voice low, “because I don’t want to put words in your mouth, but you’re annoyed that I’m too good looking?”

There’s a beat of silence, Summer’s eyes shifting sideways like she’s thinking hard about my question. Finally, her gaze meets mine.

“Yes. It’s frustrating. I never planned on getting married in the first place and now, I have to deal with a hot fake husband?”

She stares at me defiantly before raising her glass between us and chugging it down. When she lowers it, her upper lip is wet. Instinctively I swipe my thumb across it. Those plush lips that I’ve been thinking about since our wedding day kiss.

“And I’m too nice to you?”

“Something like that.”

She has no idea how much nicer I want to be. How much more I would give her if she’d let me.

“I’m sorry to put so much strain on you,” I say, taking the water glass from her. “So, tell me, wife, what do you want me to do about it?”

Her glare is sharp, but it softens as her eyes flick down to my mouth for half a second too long. It’s not an invitation but it’s sure as hell an indication of what she’s thinking about right now.

My hands find her hips, gripping her there and pulling her closer to the edge of the counter. Closer to me.

“I want?—”

She pulls me to her and crushes her lips against mine. She doesn’t say the word, but she tells me with her mouth.

You.

As my body floods with the relief of having her like this again, I groan.

Summer’s hands push into my hair. And fuck, it feels amazing.

This kiss is different than our wedding day. It’s deep and unrestrained because now we’re prepared. It’s different than the kiss I’d planted on her before she left for the bar earlier because there’s no audience. No one to see how my hand wraps around her neck, angling her where I want her, my fingers applying a slight pressure without restricting her breathing. No one around to hear Summer’s gasps of pleasure when I pull her center flush against me. No one to witness the wild frenzy of a fake couple lost in a real kiss.

Just when I imagine us staying here all night, Summer pulls away abruptly, breathless and staring at me like she just made the biggest mistake of her life. I can see the wheels turning in her head. She’s looking for an escape route.

“I need—I need to go to bed.”

She’s right. We both do. My alarm is only hours away. But when I’m tired tomorrow, I’ll know it was worth it. She’s worth it.

“Yeah, let’s get you to bed.”

I lift her off the counter, expecting to set her on her feet, but she wraps her legs around my waist. Then, her arms around my neck, turning to nuzzle her face into it. She clings to me and I love the way it feels to have her in my arms.

Fuck. If I had to choose my favorite between kissing Summer and holding her in my arms, I’d be hard pressed to decide.

In the bedroom, I pull back the covers on her side and slowly lower her into bed. Then, grab the blankets and pull them up over her.

“You didn’t have to do all that,” she murmurs.

I brush a strand of hair off her face. “Yeah, well, husband duties.”

“Rory?”

“Yeah, Wildflower?” My thumb finds her wrist to trace over her tattoo. When she doesn’t respond, I shift my gaze to her face. I expect her eyes to be closed, but she’s staring back at me. “You okay?”

“Hmm, just tired.”

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