Page 55 of Axe-identally Married
I froze, my breath catching. He was upset too. I had been so busy wallowing in my own embarrassment that I hadn’t stopped to think about what he must be feeling.
I was the worst wife ever. So I shut up and let him clean the scrapes.
He was focused and careful, meticulously cleaning the injury, then applying ointment and bandages. His care was sweet, but it only served to make the boundaries between us fuzzier when what we needed was a clear, concise line. Nothing in my life had gone according to plan, so I needed this marriage to stay its course. We’d gone into this with good reasons. Now I had to resist making stupid mistakes that would compromise all we’d worked for.
“I’m sorry I overreacted,” I said as he packed up the first aid kit.
“Don’t be. I shouldn’t have done that. It was out of line.” He kept his gaze averted. His shoulders slumped, and waves of discomfort radiated from him.
Clear boundaries would be good for us both.
I sat back on the couch and inhaled, then let it out slowly, preparing myself for what I had to do. My knee throbbed, reminding me of why this was so necessary.
“We’ve been married for what?” I asked. “Six or seven weeks?”
He froze, pinning me with his dark stare. “Six weeks and four days.”
Okay, then. He wasn’t going to make this easy on me.
“I think it’s been going well. We set out to do something, and we’re doing it.”
“Agreed.” He nodded once. “I like being married to you.”
My cheeks heated at his straightforward answer and the determination in his eyes. I crossed my arms over my chest for fortification. “Okay, so. Um. When we first talked. About everything. Our plan—” I was rambling.Focus, Willa.“Well, I never thought to bring up physical stuff.”
He raised one eyebrow.
“Intimacy,” I clarified, that single word leaving my mouth a bit too loudly. Okay, I was officially making a mess of this.
It had truly never occurred to me to discuss any of this in Vegas. It was laughable, really.
When we laid out the ground rules, I wouldn’t have dreamed of even mentioning sex. It was preposterous to even think about.
Him and me?
Please.
I was a realist.
“Okay,” I said, forcing myself to get this over with. “I never said anything about physical stuff because I figured you weren’t attracted to me, so it wasn’t an issue.”
He made a sound under his breath that could have been a growl. “Incorrect,” he said slowly, and I couldn’t but help stare at his mouth as it formed each syllable. “I’m very attracted to you.”
“Cole,” I hissed as my heart jumped in my chest. “You can’t just say stuff like that.”
His brow furrowed in confusion. “Why not? Didn’t we promise to be radically honest?”
He had me there. But this was not the time to interrogate levels of honesty. Not when my brain was reeling with the realization that he was attracted to me.
Me. I had to work to contain the inner awkward teenage girl who was positively screaming at this news. I’d learned the hard way not to throw myself at any guy who was interested. After a lifetime of never feeling like the first choice, this type of thinghad the potential to send me into a full-blown romantic fantasy. And right now, I could not afford to lose focus.
“I realize I acted impulsively out there.” He nodded toward the door. “But I want to be clear. I meant to kiss you. I’ve thought about kissing you a lot. I regret being so drunk in Vegas because it means I don’t remember what it’s like to hold you, to kiss you, and to put my hands on you.”
My face was flaming now, along with the rest of my body. This was not how I had envisioned this conversation going.
Was I hallucinating? Did I hit my head on a rock when I fell? Maybe I’m unconscious and dreaming. Because the thought of me telling hockey God Cole Hebert he couldn’t have sex with me was preposterous. Girls like me did not reject guys like him.
I’d had sex with a fair number of guys.
