“We’ll be up shortly.”
“Thank you.” I place the receiver into the cradle. “You okay?”
Mira winces, turning her back to me. “I can’t unzip myself.”
Oh, hell.
I move behind her, placing one hand on her hip and the other on the end of the zipper sitting between her shoulder blades. She turns her head to watch me out of the corner of her eye,and I drag the zipper slowly down her back with my knuckles skimming her skin in its wake.
This is torture. Evil, really.
Every inch of exposed skin feels like a test of my self-control. My breaths come quick and shallow as she shivers against my touch on her bare skin.
“Thanks,” she whispers once I drop the zipper.
“Anytime.”
I think she smiles, but I’m not sure.
“What were you thinking?” I mutter to myself once she’s gone again. “This is a Brooks-level mistake. How are you going to sleep in the same room with her and not touch her?” I groan. “Fuck.”
It was hard enough, pun intended, watching her walk down the aisle toward me. Nothing prepared me for that visual, and it’s etched into my mind for eternity.
She stopped my heart.
She’s always stopped my heart, but seeing her in that wedding dress, walkingtowardme? There are no words. No amount of planning or envisioning could’ve prepared me for that.
Mira walking to me instead of leaving me?I grin.I’m a big fan.
I remove my tie, unbutton and untuck my shirt, desperate for relief in some form. Everything feels too clingy—too tight against my skin. Hell, even my skin feels too tight against my body.And it’s only day one.
“That’s much better,” Mira says, returning. She’s bare-legged with a giant T-shirt hitting her mid-thigh. “I know this isn’t super sexy honeymoon attire, but since we aren’t having sex, I didn’t think it mattered.”
I pop the champagne and pour us each a flute. The bubbles rise to the top as quickly as my pulse.
“I hate to tell you this,” I say, handing her one. “But a giant T-shirt makes you no less sexy than lingerie.”
She hums, grinning. “Then what are my choices?”
“There aren’t any.” I smile, too, and touch our glasses together. I bring my flute to my lips. “I’d say you’re fucked, but that feels like false advertising.”
She giggles before taking a sip. I love the way her cheeks blush. It’s such a natural thing that reminds me of times when things between us were easy. When there wasn’t emotional baggage and trauma involved, and we could sit on the grass and stare up at the stars without having to say a word. We could just … be.
A knock comes from the door, and I set my glass down. “I ordered you a burger.”
“Pickles and onions?”
“You’ll have to wait and see.” I tip the server and then roll in the cart with our meals. “Look at this.”
Mira curls up on a chair by the window, peering across the Cumberland River. The lights below us are spectacular, and the floor-to-ceiling windows create an unobstructed view of the city. It’s too bad that it doesn’t hold a candle to my wife.
She looks at me. “Look at what?”
I hold up a small round cake with the congratulations printed on top. “They sent us a tiny wedding cake.”
“You’re going to demolish that in the middle of the night, aren’t you?”
“Probably.” I chuckle. “Where do you want to eat?”
