Page 38 of One More Kiss

ZANE

Where the helldid she go? Better question is what the hell happened between last night and today? Last night was a dream and it’d been a long time coming.

It all started when I finally kissed my best friend just as I'd been imagining since we were teenagers… only it was so much better. Her sweet lips, the taste of her, how soft she felt in my arms. Her moans, screams. Her vows.

I pace back and forth in the suite. Did I fuck us up? She gave me all the signals. Hell, she'd been giving me them for years—just as I'd been giving them to her. I just knew it was time. Time to lay it all out there, and she jumped in with both feet along with me.

So why did she run?

Panic. Jen's known for it when she's unsure and waking up like that was bound to freak her the fuck out. Why didn't she wake me? We talk about everything. Surely, we can talk about this.

"Relax, man. It'll be good," Slade tells me. He's my guitar man, my co-writer, an integral part of Zane Masters. Without him, I'd be shit.

I shake my head, then sit down. He hands me a coffee and sits in the chair across from me.

"I don't know. This is a whole lotta different."

He chuckles. “What it is, is about fucking time. You two and that dance you do around one another is ridiculous."

I lean back, lacing my fingers behind my head.

"Last night's dance was horizontal," Oscar says with a wiggle of his brows. This fucker, our drummer.

I laugh. "Horizontal and vertical."

Oscar groans. "Shower?"

I just shake my head. I'm not sharing that much. I gave him enough. But, yeah, shower. Crazy shower sex. Hard fucking against the wall. It was fast and it was hot as hell. I'm getting hard just thinking about it.

"Fuck!" I growl.

"Maybe she freaked, then saw the media bullshit and just wanted to go find some privacy. You know it's gonna get bad since that fuckhead put out her name," Slade says.

"Yeah," Oscar agrees. "I'm sure there are a lot of Jennifer Smith's in the world, but only one that's from your hometown, and only one of them is your best friend."

"Only one that's in photos with you," Slade adds.

"I know, I know, but I just wish she'd talk to me or, for fuck's sake, answer her fucking phone. Text, at least, if she's not up for a conversation. I just need to know she's okay," I relay.

Oscar nods. "It's the least your wife can do, right?"

I grab a pillow and throw it at him. "Fucker."

They both laugh.

Hell yeah, she's my wife. I can’t help but feel smug about it even if it’s a mess right now. Jen’s a looker. Blonde, blue eyes, lush lips, and a body to die for. On top of that, she’s kind, intelligent, and a huge animal lover—like me.

"I can't believe you got married, dude. Married." Oscar says it like it's offensive and I smirk.

"Come on, man. You knew it was going to happen eventually," I tell him.

"I just can't believe you finally found your balls and went for it," Slade heckles.

I had to bide my time. Make sure it was perfect. And it was. It really was.

"All that turmoil and all you needed to do was kiss her," Oscar mocks. "I told you she was into you."

"I couldn't fuck it up. She's more than just some chick," I remind them.

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