“Huh?” I lift my head to see her eyes.
“When you said to claim my husband, that’s what tipped me over.” She smiles and runs her hand up the back of my head.
I kiss the tip of her nose. “Oh, yeah? I’ll remember that, baby.”
CHAPTER
TEN
BROOKE
I wakeup to sunlight streaming through the windows and the weight of an arm thrown lazily over my waist. I feel a little disoriented, so I just lie there, staring at the ceiling, cataloging the evidence—his steady breathing against my neck, his thigh tucked between mine like he belongs there, the faint ache in my body that makes heat curl low in my stomach.
Vegas.
Silver dress.
The High Roller.
A wedding chapel and the ring on my finger.
The man next to me.
My husband.
Silas.
The panic starts to rise as I think about the implications of what we did. I try to ground myself before a full-blown panic attack takes over.
Pulling in a slow, deliberate breath, I begin.
I can see five different colors in the painting above the couch—soft blues, a muted green, a streak of gold I hadn’t noticed before, cream, and charcoal.
Four. The feel of the sheets against my naked skin. Silas’s leg draped over mine. My lips puffy from kissing last night. The delicious soreness between my legs from multiple orgasms.
Three. People closing doors in the hallway. The hum of the air conditioner. The sound of Silas breathing.
I inhale again. Deeper this time. The tightness in my chest eases, just a little.
Silas shifts beside me, the mattress dipping under his weight. I turn my head, and when he opens his eyes, he smiles—slow and unguarded, like he was already awake and just waiting for me.
Two. The smell of sex still lingers in the air and the fading smell of Silas’s cologne.
“Hi,” he says, voice gravely from sleep. He takes my hand and places it on his heart.
One heartbeat. It’s not something I can taste, but it grounds me nonetheless.
“Hi,” I say, quietly. The panic dissipates the longer I look into his eyes.
“You okay?” He leans up onto his elbow, and the hand that was resting on my waist moves up to my face, tucking a piece of my hair behind my ear.
The gesture is so sweet it almost makes me want to cry.
I swallow the lump in my throat and nod. “Yeah, I’m fine.”
“Fine?” He shakes his head. “No, talk to me.” He studies my face like he can see inside my soul. “You’re freaking out about last night?”
I try to sit up, but he pulls me down and leans over me.
