Page 88 of Honeymoon Phase
“Roe... did you hear me?” he asks, and I blink rapidly and refocus on him.
“No, sorry, what did you say?” I look up at him, liking how these heels bring me a bit closer to his handsome face. His brown eyes look greener in that flannel.
“I said I might have to touch you a bit more tonight to really play this off in front of everyone. I mean... we’re still in our honeymoon phase so my family will probably expect some level of affection between us.”
I narrow my eyes at him. “I sleep in your arms every single night, Luke.”
“This is true.” He purses his lips, his eyes dropping to my mouth and I shiver when my nipples pebble at just that subtle shift in his gaze.
“I can handle a bit of touching.” I wink at him and pat my hand on his chest, my palm staying there for a moment, noticing how fast his heart is racing.
“What about kissing?” he asks, his voice deep and gravelly.
“Kissing?” I whisper, feeling an ache bloom between my legs.
He shrugs as his eyes rake over my whole face. “We might have to kiss just a little.”
I nod slowly, feeling drunk on his close proximity. “I can handle that.”
He leans in close like he wants to test that theory and just before our lips touch, a horn honks from outside, drawing both of our attention to the door. Luke looks back at me, our faces dangerously close together. “You ready for this, wife?”
I lean my head up and press my lips to his cheek. “Very ready.”
He hits me with a suspicious look, still not making a move.
“Why do you look so nervous?”
He inhales a deep breath. “It’s my brothers. There’s always a reason to be nervous when it comes to going out with my brothers.”
I laugh and grab his hand, threading my fingers through his and pulling him behind me toward the door, saying goodbye to Rufus on our way. Luke is worrying about nothing. His family is child’s play compared to John Monroe. Plus, we’re all adults. What’s the worst that could happen?
One thing I’ve learned about myself after spending two hours in the local Jamestown bar with my husband and his family?
I like to play make-believe.
I might even love it.
I love the feel of Luke’s hand on my lower back as he holds the door open for me and walks me inside.
I love the way he drapes his arm behind my chair all night, blanketing me in his body heat.
I love the way he leans in and I can feel his warm breath all over my neck when he asks me what I want to drink next.
I love the way he knows what food I want to order off the menu and then asks me what he should order so we can share.
I love the way his hands fold around mine every time the girls fire a million wedding questions at me, giving me that quiet sense of support that he knows I need.
I love the way he watches me when I get dragged onto the tiny dance floor with the girls.
I love the way he pushes a water toward me when I come back to the table.
I love the way he looks at me and doesn’t look away when I catch him looking.
I... want him.
I want my best friend.
I want Luke.
