Page 33 of Marry Lies
I can do this. Ihaveto do this. There are people here who are expecting us to be in love. Stupid and reckless, sure, but in love nonetheless. When I snap my eyes open, Miles is watching me with that pinched expression again, so I do the only thing I can think of. Wrapping my arms around his neck, I stand on my tip toes and press my lips against his.
He doesn’t react at first, and while I can’t be sure because my eyes are closed, I imagine his are open in surprise. I’m just about to pull away and call it a chaste kiss when his arms reach up and pull my waist into his body, deepening the kiss and reclaiming my lips as he crushes me against him. His tongue traces my lips, sending a smattering of sparks through me as a wild swirl of desire ignites in every nerve ending.
Just like the first time we kissed.
My skin is suddenly tingling and warm, and all I can smell and taste is green apples. Sweet, ripe, surprising…His hand dips lower, ever so slowly, a searing sensation working through me as his fingers squeeze my arse once.
As he does, we both groan.
Audibly.
I push myself closer as my hands run up his neck and into his hair, grazing over his puckered skin. He groans again, his tongue wild against mine, and every single movement sends something white hot through me. His racing heart beats against my chest, so I know it’s not just me. He runs his free hand around my waist, exploring the soft lines of my back, my hips…before running the other one to my arse. I let out a low, whimpering sound. The intoxicating scent of green apples overwhelms me.
I’ve only ever been kissed like this once before.
In a taxi.
A tautness in my core grows tighter with each swoop of his tongue, and a hot ache grows between my thighs.
My god…
Someone from the crowd audibly whoops and Miles pulls away quickly, as if he’s been burned. Instead of pulling away completely, he takes my left hand in his, pulling me behind him as we walk toward the door. A few people cheer. I’m too stunned to do anything.
What the hell was that kiss? Not that I didn’t expect it, but still…
My heels clack against the black marble as we make our way to the front of the courthouse. Once outside, he waves at the small crowd of reporters and photographers.
Before I can process anything, he pulls my body close to his again, this time side by side. “Smile for the cameras, Estelle,” Miles commands, his voice a low murmur in my ear. Placing a kiss on my cheek, one of his hands snakes around my waist, and his long fingers grip my hip firmly.
It sends a surge of electricity through me, and I smile through my stunned gasp.
He chuckles as we walk toward a black SUV limousine. Once I’m inside, he closes my door and walks to the other side, climbing in.
After he shuts the door, we’re encased in silence. I look up at him as he stares at me from the other side of the SUV, several feet away. Neither of us says anything—he only just watches me as I catch my breath.
I ask the first thing I can think of—the one thing that’s been at the forefront of my mind, even more so than that amazing kiss.
“How did you get her ring?” My voice is tinged with anger. I hardly ever get angry, but for some reason, the fact that he used my grandmother’s ring makes me furious.
“Your father gave it to me this morning.” At his response, I cross my arms and look out of the window as we make our way through downtown Crestwood. Surely, his scheming is behind this. “Care to explainwhyyou’re throwing a hissy fit over your wedding ring?”
“A hissy fit? I think not.” I lean forward. “You hadnoright to use her ring.”
He looks stunned. It should be amusing, but instead, that same concerned expression passes over his features. My eyes rove down to his neck, where that same shiny scar is peaking through. He notices, because he adjusts his collar and covers it up.
I laugh and shake my head. “It doesn’t matter anyway.”
“What doesn’t matter?”
“This. All of it. In a year, I’ll have my money, and you’ll have your reputation. I was just surprised to see it, because—” I close my mouth. “Just forget it.”
Why should I tell him? Spilling my guts to him would only result in him using it against me. I need to keep some sort of wall between him and the things that matter the most to me. I’ve tried to break through his barrier several times, and each time, he’s shot me down.
Why should I let him inside of mine?
I grab a champagne flute and hold it out. “We should toast.”
He looks at me like I’m speaking another language. “I want to know why you’re so upset about the ring.”
