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“Do you, Eden Fitzgerald, take West Abbott to be your husband. To have and to hold from this day forth for as long as you both live?” she asks me.

I inhale raggedly. This is real. My family isn’t here, it’s not a joke. I’m about to get married. On the same night I was arrested. My head starts to pound. Then West rubs his thumb along my wrist again.

Oh god, why does that feel so good?

“I do,” I manage to squeak out. West relaxes his hold on me.

Janice walks forward, holding a box with two rings. Where the hell did they come from? I glance at West. He just shrugs.

Then he slides the ring on my left finger, his own fingers and thumb closing around it for a moment, like he’s afraid it will fall off. Or maybe he’s scared I’ll yank it off.

It takes me three tries to get his ring on. He doesn’t move, doesn’t help, just watches me through hooded eyes as I struggle to get it on his huge finger, like a kid trying to thread a needle.When it’s finally on, I look up at him. There’s the smallest of smiles on his face. I have no idea what it means.

“By the power vested in me, by the state of Nevada,” the officiant says, “I now pronounce you husband and wife.”

My heart kicks once. Then again. Janice claps.

“You may kiss the bride.”

Oh god. No. Why didn’t I think about this part? Janice walks around to the front, her phone trained on the two of us.

For a second the room is filled with silence.

I can’t help but stare at West’s mouth like I’ll have to take a quiz on it later. His bottom lip is fuller than the top. They’re slightly parted, like he’s just let out a soft breath.

Then he nods at me.

He’s really going to do this. My jaw tightens. Janice moves in closer. And my skin flushes a brighter red than the paint I washed off in the shower only an hour ago.

West reaches for my face, his hand softly cupping my chin like I’m made of glass. Then he tips my head up until our eyes catch.

There’s a question in his gaze. Can I do this? Is this okay?

I nod almost imperceptibly, because I can’t think of a single valid reason why he shouldn’t.

West dips his head, his gaze unmoving, as the tip of his nose brushes mine. My heart starts to slam against my ribcage, and all I can think about is the fact that his mouth is less than three inches away.

I let out a breath he can feel. His thumb brushes my jaw, like he’s trying to reassure me.

And then his lips press against my mouth.

He’s soft at first. Like he’s testing me out. But my whole body tingles at the sudden connection. His hand slides down my neck, as I slowly move my mouth, kissing him back.

His fingers trace my spine, vertebrae by vertebrae, then he reaches the dip of my back, pulling me against him.

Without thinking, I wrap my arms around his neck, my body naturally pressing into his. Chest to chest. Stomach to…

A soft grunt escapes from his mouth.

And then everything narrows into a tiny pinpoint. My breath, my thoughts, the ache in my chest. It’s like my body has been waiting for this moment longer than my brain has.

I kiss him hard. Just enough to know what it feels like when I’m the one who starts it. His lips part in surprise but he doesn’t stop me. His hand curls tighter around my waist like he’s anchoring us together. I feel him against me, thick and firm, and it sends a pulse of pleasure between my thighs.

I sigh against his mouth.

And then suddenly he pulls back.

He clears his throat, his fingers twitching like he has no idea what to do with them. Finally, he drags them through his hair, leaving it a little mussed.