My hand falls reluctantly from her neck.
The cameras around us erupt, shutters clicking, voices overlapping as they shout.
Mr. and Mrs. Hayes! Over here! Kiss her again!
Amelia grabs my hand before I can sulk too hard, herpalm small and warm against mine. “C’mon,” she whispers, tugging me toward the waiting car.
I follow, half-dazed, half-pissed at myself for not stealing another second of her mouth. Flashbulbs explode in my vision as we sprint down the sidewalk, her heels clicking, my arm automatically bracing around her shoulders to shield her from the crush of photographers.
“Smile, newlyweds!” someone yells.
I give a quick shit ass smile and get into the car after Amelia.
The car door slams shut behind us, muffling the chaos.
Glancing over at Amelia, my eyes follow her gentle side profile. Her brows are furrowed as she focuses on her phone, with her upturned button nose and full, plump lips.
Fuck meeeeeee.
Amelia feels me staring at her, glances over at me, and glares at me between her lashes.
Her mood quickly shifts.
She’s a pretty moody person, I’m coming to learn.
The tux collar feels even tighter now. I stretch my legs in the back seat, watching her.
I reach over, sliding my palm along the smooth line of her thigh, lace beneath my hand. “You’re awfully quiet for a newlywed, dollface?—”
She whips her head towards me again, revealing the flash of her eyes. “Don’t.”
Her tone shouldn’t affect me. But Jesus, it does. Heat rises low in my stomach, and I press my thumb against the lace anyway, testing.
Her hiss cuts through the engine's hum. “Maverick.”
Fuck. My cock twitches.
I grin, leaning back like I didn’t just get scolded andturned on at the same time. “Goddamn, you know how dangerous you are?”
She doesn’t answer, exhaling through her nose, eyes fixed on the blur of brick buildings rushing past.
Ice queen.
Completely unbothered, which only makes me want to unravel her more.
My phone vibrates in my pocket. Maggie’s name lighting up the screen.
Of course.
I answer, putting her on speaker. “You better be calling to say congrats, Mag.”
Her voice comes quickly. “Mav, you’re trending, again, and it’s everywhere. Your wedding photos are all over TMZ, Twitter, Instagram—hell, even my grandma texted me. Everyone wants to know who this mystery woman is.”
Amelia shifts, crossing her legs, her nails tapping against her arm, choosing not to look at me.
I smirk, eyes still fixed on her. “You hear that, wife? You broke the internet.”
Maggie keeps going, manic. “They’re calling it the event of the season.”
