Page 35 of Honeyed

“I hear that. It’s why I can’t manage to sever the umbilical cord.” I snort, far too tipsy now to filter my mouth.

Cass sucks on her lemonade. “Can we not talk about umbilical cords? I’m scared enough that this kid is going to pop out of my body like an alien.”

“You’ll probably be glowing like a supermodel during childbirth, shut it.” I roll my eyes because my sister-in-law is the most gorgeous actress on earth.

“That kid is going to be so freaking beautiful.” Gabrielle sighs.

One drink turns into two, turns into three, and I’m suddenly swaying as I make my way back to the couches my brothers are occupying.

I’ve had enough alcohol to put me out for the night, and because I’ve sat on his lap hundreds of times, and because he’s my husband and we’re in public, I plop down on Warren’s lap like it’s my favorite seat.

“Hi, husband.” I smack a kiss on his cheek.

“Hi, wife.” A mischievous twinkle lights those gray eyes.

“You two are adorable,” Cass squees.

I wiggle in his lap, and Warren’s hands tighten on my waist. That’s when I feel it, the hard ridge of him pressed against my ass cheek. My heart and pussy both give a happy dance at knowing I affect him like this and grind discreetly down just to drive the point home.

“You’re in dangerous territory,” he growls in my ear in a voice I’ve only heard directed at me once or twice when it comes to him.

“Do you think I’m afraid?” Twisting my head, I smirk at his stormy expression.

Before I can taunt him further, though, two girls I was friendly with in our teenage years come by our group and squeal at my position on Warren. It’s that point on a Friday night when all the people we grew up with congregate at the Laura and where vision and minds start to get hazy. They coax me to do a shot with them, and I watch as Wilson pulls Gabrielle into an enticing salsa, and Patrick has another drink since his pregnant wife agreed to be his designated sober driver.

I lose Warren for a bit in all of it, the crowd growing as the hour gets later.

Kate and Rebecca were in my grade, and we were close enough in high school. We had a few nights out here and there in our early twenties, and while I typically stick to my family and my best friend, now husband, these two girls were friends. Which is how I end up drunkenly gossiping at the bar with them.

“I can’t believe you got married. To Warren,” Kate blurts as Rebecca giggles at the idea.

“It’s pretty funny, actually.” I giggle and then snort, bubbles of the beer I’m drinking filling my nose.

“Remember when you guys were paired as parents in health class? You had to take care of that fake baby? Warren was so adorable during the whole thing, I totally swooned over him.” Kate sighs dreamily.

“You and the entire sophomore class.” Rebecca giggles.

Jealousy, big and green with talons and fangs, grips my stomach. These two have no idea that while Warren might appear to be my husband, nothing could be further from the truth. Knowing that the entire town wants him and that they could have him when he eventually breaks this off makes me want to hurl.

“I forgot about that.” Warren laughs as he comes up behind me. Instantly, I’m buzzing with warmth and a need for his hands on me. “Mrs. Hodgkins talked so much about how horrible childbirth was that I just wanted to give you, the new mom, a break.”

Every other feeling besides pure, unadulterated want vanishes from my head and heart. Because all I can imagine is Warren as a father, holding a tiny baby and cooing softly to his son or daughter. And how badly I want that to be my baby, too.

“If you are half the father you were as a teenage boy faking the assignment, Alana will be a very, very lucky woman.” Rebecca’s eyes dance with an ulterior motive as she eyes Warren.

It doesn’t escape me that my best friend used to be the most eligible bachelor. But he’s mine now, at least for as long as I can keep him, and even though I consider Rebecca a friend, I want him to myself.

“I’m already a very lucky woman.” I palm his cheek and sink into his body, his arms wrapping around me like it’s a reflex.

“You about ready to go, tipsy?” His cut, masculine jaw tics up with a siren’s grin, and I lean up on my toes to plant a kiss on his lips without thinking.

Only I am privy to the quick gasp of shock he intakes as my mouth meets his, but then he’s leaning in, giving them all a show. Part of me wants to stay in this bar because I know the minute we leave it, I won’t have a reason to do this.

“I suppose. Take me home, husband.” I like using that word way more than I’d like to admit.

“Yes, wife.” He chuckles and bids our high school friends farewell. I hug Cass and Gabrielle, who are heading out soon as well, and wink at Wilson as I watch him chat up an older gentleman at the bar.

The warm night air feels good on my heated face as Warren leads me to the parking lot, and I lace my fingers in his.

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