Page 35 of Insta Bride

“If you have to ask, you know you won’t like the answer.”

“I didn’t hear you complaining before,” I pressed for reassurance, loving how real and normal our banter had gotten. Being with Elena was easy. No forced anything. I could be me, and she was—perfectly Elena.

“I was being polite.”

“You screamed my name.”

“Did I?” Her long, natural eyelashes fluttered in the moonlight. “Did I call Kye or Why? I can’t remember.”

The woman could bait me into hell and back. “Really? Do you want me to remind you?”

“Do you think you could? I mean—” She’d scratched up my inner thighs until reaching my balls. Hell, even after all we’d done, I’d wanted to rise to the occasion again. “You’re not as young as you used to be.”

“Woman, I’m not as young as I was a couple of hours ago.”

“How long do we have until they turn the camera’s on again?”

“Twelve minutes, but I don’t think they’ll give us a third extension.”

“Not enough time for a decent round, you’ll have to owe me.”

“Do you remember if there was anything in the contract we signed about if one of us died during sex?”

“What’s your best memory of Christmas growing up?” I’d already learned Elena could change the topic without flinching. It meant conversation hadn’t been boring, which also meant I hadn’t gotten bored. None of the usual feelings about wanting to flee from a woman’s bed or arms.

Elena was special.

“You’ll judge me.”

“I already judge you. Give me something other than your morals to judge.”

“What if it is my Christmas morals on the line?”

“No! You can’t ruin Christmas for me.”

“Not ruin, just give you something to aspire to.”

“Hit me with it.”

“I used to time how many seconds it would take to rip off paper from each present. Then I had to match each gift card to the present.”

“You did what?”

“Yeah. It started off as an accident. I’d ripped open all my presents and my grandmother wanted to know if I like the one she’d given me. I had no idea but looked around and figured she’d given me the Tom Sawyer book.”

“Had she?”

“Yes. So, then I started thinking about how people tend to give you the presents that reflect how they see you, not who you are.”

“What present would you give me?”

I hadn’t expected the question.

We’d only known each other for a week—more if you count the mixers and auditions.

Elena.

“Hmm, now you’re really gonna judge me.”

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