Next second: six-foot-something of tailored tuxedo and unfair jawline.
And—God.
He smellssofucking good.
Clean pine. Cedar, maybe. Something warm underneath that makes my brain briefly stop functioning like organized tissue and start functioning like soup. And then his hand slides around my waist as naturally as breathing and I immediately have to remind myself this is fake.
Fake husband.
Fake marriage.
Fake touching.
Fake everything.
Unfortunately, my nervous system did not receive the memo and I avoid looking at Priya because she’s absolutely witnessing my psychological collapse in real time. Shit. Shit. Shit.
She’s already distracted anyway, eyeing a guy at the neighboring table with the laser focus of a woman about to make questionable but memorable choices. I’m pretty sure he’s one of Colton’s teammates. Derek, maybe? Or one of the approximately twelve tall, aggressively athletic men whose names my brain refuses to retain despite weeks of exposure.
The guy looks vaguely familiar, though. So, yeah, I think it’s Derek.
Colton leans closer, mouth brushing near my ear and I jerk up.
“So,” he murmurs, voice low enough that warmth skates down my spine, “how are you holding up?”
His thumb strokes lazily against my waist.
Did he always touch people like this?
Or is this specifically designed to ruin my cardiovascular stability?
“Barely survived,” I whisper back. “Priya had to walk me through the ceremony like a nervous hostage negotiator.”
He groans softly.
Then—because apparently my evening wasn’t difficult enough—he nuzzles his face against my shoulder. Actually nuzzles and my entire skeletal system freezes. That cannot be part of the act.
Can it?
Why is he so good at this?
Why does he feel so comfortable touching me?
More importantly: And why do I like it so much?
“I felt guilty leaving you alone,” he says against my shoulder. “But apparently best men are required to stand around looking emotionally supportive for extended periods of time.”
“You did look very supportive.”
“I suffered.”
I finally glance up at him.
Big mistake.
His silvery eyes are warm with amusement.
And there’s something softer underneath.
