Page 82 of Mess With Me

Sasha saysI doafter her part, then the officiant asks for the rings.

As the woman recites words about constant faith and abiding love, Sasha slides the ring onto my finger, hesitating only for a moment.

I put my hand in my pocket and slip hers onto her finger next.

Sasha stares at it a moment, then looks up at me, eyes wide. “You said it wasn’t special.”

I’ve given her my grandmother’s ring. I knew what I was doing, but it still doesn’t make perfect sense. There’s a division between feelings and logic that’s still murky to me.

“Just keeping you on your toes,” I whisper.

“You have now joined in this commitment of love and devotion…”

The officiant says her piece, but I don’t hear it, because now I’m looking into Sasha’s eyes, locked on to this woman like this is more than what we’re here for.

Part of me screams I need to wake up. But that voice is growing smaller as I bring my hand up to cup her jaw. I watch my thumb brush over her cheek as if this woman belongs to me.

“You may now kiss the bride.”

We talked about this part when I dropped Sasha off at Chelsea’s.

“I’ll just give you a peck,” I said. “Make it look real.”

“On the lips?” she teased. “What happens if I open my mouth just a little?”

I’d glowered at her. “Now’s not the time for this shit, Sasha,” I said, shifting in my seat.

But now my eyes go to her full lips.

The room is silent. Even Imogen is quiet. It’s like the whole world is holding its breath for us.

Open for me, baby.

And they do, like a blossom unfurling.

I lean in, pausing just before our lips meet. “Is this okay?” My whisper comes out rough.

“I don’t know,” she whispers. Her tongue darts out briefly, making heat curl in my belly. “I mean, it is for me, but is it okay for you? It’s not what we talked about, I just—”

I press my lips to hers, cutting her off.

The room erupts with cheers.

But it’s nothing compared to the explosion of nerve-endings firing as I take her mouth with mine.

Nothing has ever felt so right. Not once, not ever.

Somewhere, as my tongue brushes against hers, as her fingers twine in my hair, tugging me closer, I try to remind myself this isn’t real.

But all I know is the woman before me, Sasha Macklin.

The woman I just made my wife.

CHAPTER23

Sasha

“Three cheers for the grumpiest butthead this side of the Quince!”

---