Page 35 of His Wild Attraction

The party.

Everything.

He did everything. Things I hadn’t even asked him to see to. Things I was hardly willing to admit I wanted.

I didn’t know how to handle it. I mean this was a marriage of convenience.

Mainly mine.

But Andres made it seem like more. Like this was something he actually wanted and not something I just threw out at him in a moment of desperation.

“Coffee?” he asked, coming towards me with an espresso in his hand.

“Is it spiked?” I asked.

“Just a little,” Andres said, his lips quirked up in a rare teasing grin.

He held the cup to my lips, and my pulse raced.

It was nothing, really.

Just my new husband sharing his coffee with me.

Nothing to write home about.

But my hand trembled as I touched his, allowing him to tilt the delicate ceramic so I could swallow the delicious dark brew.

“Good?” he asked once I’d taken a small sip, relishing the licorice-flavored liquor he’d added to it.

“Mm hm. Sambuca?”

“Anisette,” he corrected me.

I hummed again, and Andres grinned. My lips parted.

Christ, he was good looking.

He downed the rest of the coffee in a single gulp. I watched his throat work and heat flooded my system.

Why was that sexy?

He was just a man drinking espresso, for God’s sake. Not like he was one of those shirtless lumberjacks that kept popping up on my social media feed.

Don’t ask.

Again, I reminded myself it was no big deal.

But that was a lie. I was fooling myself.

It was something. The simple act of sharing coffee was monumental somehow. I felt my pulse quicken and my heart squeeze.

Maybe it was the intimacy of it that left me a little breathless.

“Did you see Sammy before he went to bed?” I asked, knowing how Andres enjoyed tucking him in.

“I did. I must have just missed you. I gave him a kiss goodnight after he’d already fallen asleep,” he said with a shrug.

I smiled indulgently. My son was my pride and joy, and it was one subject Andres and I seemed to have no trouble communicating about at all.

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